Shut Up And Kiss Me (gxg)

8. F*cking Hell

       MONROE STOOD NEXT TO  her motorcycle and beside her, Skylar bounced with hyper, excited energy.

       From here, I couldn't hear what they were talking about. But the way Skylar grinned, tucking a lock of violet hair behind her ear, I knew this was it.

       She was going to try and kiss Monroe.

       Our stupid September goal. Kiss a stranger. 

      "I'll see you at Aaron's later," I promised Cody. And my traitorous legs began making a beeline right towards Skylar and Monroe.

       What the hell was I going to do? 

       Why did I even care?

       But those weren't the right questions, not as fierce, hot courage seared in my veins. I didn't know why I cared, but I did.

        And I was about to do something really, really stupid. I just didn't know what.

      "Oh, really?" Skylar was teasing. "I bet I could drive this motorcycle around the block. How hard could it be?"

       "It's a little harder than it looks," Monroe said with a laugh that made every nerve in my body vibrate.

        "Hey," I interrupted.

        A few of the kids lingering in the area paused. Conversations stilted. Maybe it was the way I braced myself, ready for a fight, or the heat in my words. Maybe there was a sign on my forehead that read: EXPLOSIVE.

        "Monroe," I greeted coldly.

        "Talia?" Skylar touched my shoulder. "What's up?"

        I should have said, I don't want you to go through with this. 

        I should have said, I think I might like Monroe, and I'm not comfortable with this.

        I should have said, Please don't kiss her. 

        I should have said anything.

        Because what I did instead was much, much stupider. 

        The conversation they had been having earlier―what had that been about?

       The motorcycle. 

       Skylar had bet Monroe that she could ride this motorcycle around the block.

       I lifted my chin, gearing myself. What better way to stop the kiss from happening than by putting myself in imminent danger?

       Oh, God. I was crazy.

       Skylar's eyes widened. I didn't know if she had guessed―or if she just knew how impulsive I could get―but she shook her head frantically.

       All I needed was a distraction.

       And the thought of Skylar's lips against Monroe's, the thought of Monroe cupping Skylar's jaw with her tattooed hand . . . it lit the world with white-hot rage.

        So before I could think better, I told Monroe, "I bet I could drive your motorcycle."

        AS A TEENAGER,  I learned two lessons the hard way.

        The first: I should never, ever tell my parents about my love life.