The Fragile Ordinary

Our eyes were on level with one another, and I realized Ethan was the same height as me. He had a rangy, sinewy physique, however, that gave the illusion of greater height. The dimple that popped in his cheek with his lopsided grin was all kinds of charming.

He brushed his dark hair off his forehead. “I’m Ethan.”

“Comet,” I said quietly. And I’d like to leave now.

“That is such a cool name.” Ethan grinned harder. “Really suits you.”

It really didn’t. “Thanks.”

We stared at each other and I blushed. Again.

Ethan’s eyes brightened. “So...you go to Blair Lochrie with Vicki?”

I nodded. Words! My head was filled with bloody words, and yet I was taking so long to come up with ones that sounded okay that the silence just stretched between us.

A gaping, yawning chasm of silence.

Mortified, I looked anywhere but at the boy in front of me.

“So, uh, is that a cartoon character on your shoe?”

Stunned he was still standing there, I shrugged. “Kind of. It’s Alice from Alice in Wonderland. She’s really a book character more than a cartoon, because Lewis Carroll published the novel in 1865 and the Disney version came out eighty-six years later, although technically my heels are the Disney version of her...” Shut up! Someone shut me up!

To my wary surprise, Ethan nodded like I’d said the most fascinating thing ever. “Cool.”

Sensing it was my turn to ask a question I blurted out, “Are you an art student?”

He shoved his hair out of his face again, and I had to curb the urge to advise him he should just cut it if it was annoying him. “Aye. Photography. But I’m more focused on my band, right now. We’re called Lonely Boy, inspired by the song from the Black Keys. We’re kind of The Black Keys meets the Arctic Monkeys meets Babyshambles. Our musical aesthetic is alternative punk-dance-rock wrapped up in a social conscience. We’ve been playing a lot of gigs in...”

As it turned out, there were some boys you didn’t have to say anything to. You just had to pretend to be interested in what they were saying.

* * *

After an hour of listening to Ethan, lead singer of Lonely Boy, wax poetical about his life in the band, I excused myself to use the bathroom. I had a headache and needed the reprieve. On my way out, Steph cornered me.

“What does biomorphic mean?” Her pupils were large, her skin was flushed, and she was swaying a little.

“How much have you had to drink?” I nodded to her beer.

“Just a few.” She waved me off. “Comet, hurry, what does it mean?”

“Biomorphic? Why?”

She stamped her foot like a petulant child. “Because the cute art guy I’m talking to keeps calling his work biomorphic, and I’m just smiling at him like an idiot because I don’t know what it means.”

I took her beer. “You’ve had enough. And it means taking living things, like plants, the human body, and making abstract images from them.”

“You are so smart!” She kissed my cheek and hurried toward the kitchen at the end of the hallway, not even aware I’d taken her beer. I ducked back into the bathroom and poured the rest of the bottle down the sink.

Yes, I was that girl at the party.

Buzzkill girl.

This time when I stepped out of the bathroom I was stopped by Ethan.

He grinned and touched my arm. “There you are. I thought someone else stole you away.”

My cheeks grew hot again as I shook my head.

And then he was kissing me!

My first kiss, and it just happened!

No warning. Nothing!

And it was awful.

It was like he was trying to eat my mouth and wriggle his tongue in it at the same time!

Thankfully it didn’t last long, and he pulled back to smirk at me. “Let me get you a beer. Don’t go anywhere.”

The skin above my top lip and below my bottom was wet with his saliva.

Get the hell out of here, Comet! And I listened to myself. Without thinking of Vicki or Steph, I hurried past the bodies in the crowded hallway and darted outside. Running down the steps, I didn’t even care if my Alice heels broke from my manic escape. I just wanted out. I threw open the main door to the building, and it banged against the wall. Loudly.

“Whoa!”

I skidded to a stop at the shout, noting to my horror the crowd of kids standing near our local pub, the Espy. Embarrassment flooded me when I realized it wasn’t just anybody standing there. It was Stevie and his gang of miscreants.

And Tobias King.

Tobias had his arm around a girl I didn’t recognize, a beer bottle dangling from his hand. He stared at me, frowning.

“Ye awright, Comet?” Stevie called. Alana Miller, a scary, would probably take my head off if I looked at her the wrong way, girl in the year below me had her arms around his waist.

I managed a nod at Stevie and then threw a reluctant glance at Tobias, who had dropped his arm from the unknown girl and was staring at me intently. Flushing harder, I turned from them and started to walk down the esplanade.

“What the fuck is she wearing?” I heard a girl cackle, and there was more laughter.

I hunched into myself and picked up speed.

That speed turned to full-out running once I knew I was out of sight, and I didn’t stop until I was at my front door. It was only once I was inside my bedroom that I managed to relax somewhat.

And then I slumped onto my bed and fought the urge to cry as I wiped at my mouth and shuddered.

That was kissing? That horrible, wet, slug-like act was kissing?

Every time I got to a scene in the book where the hero and heroine finally kissed, it made me flush hot in a good way, and my chest filled with this delight, this giddiness that was hard to describe.

I had yet to read a book where the heroine got her face munched on!

“Ugh.” I shuddered again.

Of course my first kiss would suck. Literally. I don’t know why I ever expected anything else. And this was exactly the reason I should have stayed home tonight—so my illusions wouldn’t be shattered by a presumptuous nineteen-year-old boy who had not received permission to put his mouth anywhere near mine!

I yanked off my clothes, only slowing to take care with my expensive boots. Just as I was slipping into my pajamas, my phone made a little jingle of a noise, alerting me to a text.

Vicki : [email protected]

I sighed and quickly replied. I went home. Tired. I’ll put a key under the mat for you. xx.

Two seconds later it pinged: RUOK xx.

Yeah xx

Although I didn’t like the idea of putting the key under the mat, there was really no other way for my friends to get in the house other than for me to stay awake all night. And I didn’t want to. I wanted to sleep so I could forget the fact that my mouth had just been attacked.

On that note I flossed and brushed my teeth. Thoroughly. And then I rinsed it multiple times with mouthwash. Staring into the mirror, I got a flashback of the feeling of Ethan’s kiss and shuddered again. “Ugh!” I made a face at myself.

Tomorrow I was going to do a reread of my favorite romance just to get this awful real-life imagery out of my head.

* * *

I awoke with a start, my heart in my throat, the blood whooshing in my ears.

“It’s just me, babe,” Vicki’s voice whispered in the dark, but it sounded thick and cracked.

“Vicki?”

Down the hall I heard water running from a tap while Vicki’s silhouette solidified out of shadow as my eyes adjusted to the dark.

She pushed the covers back and climbed into the bed. The denim of her jeans rubbed against the light fabric of my pajama bottoms, the floral perfume she wore mixed with the scent of beer enveloped me, and the soft, tight curls of her hair tickled my chin as she wrapped her arms around my waist and pressed her face to my collarbone.

I felt her body shake.

I felt something wet drip onto my skin.

Sleep deserted me at the realization that my best friend, who rarely cried, was sobbing quietly against me.

Concern kicked my heart into speed and something ugly twisted in my gut as I closed my arms around her and held her tight. “Vicki?” I was afraid. Afraid to ask what happened, all manner of dark suspicions lurking in my mind.