Shut Up And Kiss Me (gxg)

26. Public F*cking Statement

        THE NEXT MORNING, I CAME TO THREE conclusions.

        The first was that I had kissed a girl for the first time, and liked it.

        The second was that I hated Monroe a little less.

        And the third was that I'd . . . well, there was no easy way of saying it. I had stood on a table and announced to a party full of drunk seniors that I was bisexual.

        So I rolled out of bed, expecting to receive the consequences of a hangover, and instead found myself face to face with Claudia.

        In that instant, I came to a fourth conclusion.

        "You ditched our Halloween movie marathon last night," she said.

        "Claudia, I—"

        "No." She made a motion to silence me. "There are only two explanations I will accept. The first being that you were abducted by aliens with giant green schlongs who forced you to work for twelve hours straight on the reproduction of cum glowsticks in the contribution of society." She inhaled dramatically. "The second being that you were bing-bang-bonging Monroe all night. So which was it?"

        Beneath the humour, I could see the lingering hurt in her expression. I had really let her down by forgetting about our tradition.

        "I'm sorry," I said. "I was drunk and—it's a long story, but I basically came out as bisexual at Skylar's party. It was . . . God, that was terrible of me to forget."

       "So what I'm hearing is, you weren't making cum glowsticks or bing-bang-bonging Monroe?"

       "I'm really, really sorry."

       Claudia's eyes flickered away. "I was waiting for you, you know. After midnight. You've never not come home in time."

       "I'm so sorry," I said.

       I felt like an asshole. My little sister had probably been bundled up in blankets on the couch, wondering if I would text back. And . . . I'd ditched her. To get drunk. And stand on a table. And bandage Monroe's hands.

       "Yeah." Claudia glanced away. In the late morning light, her blue eyes were the colour of a sun-warmed ocean. "You better make up for it."

       An idea sprang to mind. "What do you want for your birthday?"

      "Now you're talking."

      Claudia's birthday was in a little bit over a week. "I'll get you whatever you want."

      "Cash." She grinned. "Cold, hard cash."

      ON THE MONDAY AFTER HALLOWEEN, I was speed-walking to math when Aaron intercepted me.

      With absolute horror, I heard Taylor Swift playing from the speakers.

      "Our song is the slam of screen doors, sneakin' out late, tapping on your window . . ."

       "No," I breathed.

      In the middle of the crowded hallway, Aaron knelt down, holding a bouquet of roses.

      "I was a jerk," he proclaimed.

      Aaron, no, I mouthed at him.

      A few other students stopped walking. I heard a few people snickering—which was silenced by Skylar shoving them into a locker—and Brady Williams saying, "Yeah, Aaron! Get your girl!"