Shut Up And Kiss Me (gxg)

30. Santa F*cking Claus

       "OH, HI," I SAID, SCRAMBLING to stand up again. "Um. What's up, Aaron?"

       I was going for the casual approach. 

       I didn't think it was working.

       Aaron's eyes focused on Monroe. And then on me.

       There was suddenly a great deal of lint on my clothes. I astutely avoided Aaron's gaze as I began to pick at the fabric.

       Except Aaron growled, "I thought I told you she was bad news, Talia."

       I tried very hard not to look at Monroe's face. "She's not—um. This was an—accident."

       "Yes," Monroe said coolly. "An accident."

       Back in the kitchen, I could hear the clatter of plates stacking and trays being emptied into the sink. Dessert was going to be served soon.

      "Let's, um, go," I tried.

       But Aaron's gaze was fixed on Monroe. He said, "Really? Hitting on my girlfriend? What the fuck?"

       "Oh," I said. "She wasn't—"

       Monroe took a dangerous step towards towards him. There was something about the way she held herself now, as if she was itching for a fight. "You want to talk about Talia?"

       "I know you were flirting with her!" Aaron seemed to be gearing up for a fight, too. Fuck. Fuck. "Leave my girlfriend alone. You don't deserve her."

       Monroe grinned then, and I knew Aaron was this close to getting beaten unconscious. It didn't matter that he was over six feet, built as the football captain, and over two hundred pounds. If they broke out into a fight, I would put my money on Monroe.

        Did that make me a bad girlfriend?

        Or . . . just an honest one?

        "Why's that?" Monroe asked softly.

        "The drugs," he spat. "Or the jailtime. You were out on the streets for two years, Monroe. You think I don't know what you did to survive? Sure, you're here now, but it wasn't pretty." He was suddenly standing close enough to her to reach out. "My dad might believe the best of you, but I know you were doing bad shit. You're not a good person."

         "Don't you dare," Monroe breathed. "Don't you dare tell me anything I did after my parents' death made me a bad person. You have no idea how I survived."

         Don't do it, Aaron, I thought. Don't do it. Don't do it. Don't do it. 

         With one finger, he jabbed her chest.

         It wasn't as a bad as a shove, or a punch, but it was so much more mocking. And infinitely more condescending.

         That finger said, You're nothing.

         I saw Monroe stiffen. "You have ten seconds to stop touching me," she whispered. 

         "You might have the rest of the world fooled, but not me," Aaron hissed. "You were wild as a sophomore, and I don't believe you changed. Not really. Not where it—" 

         In a move so swift it was barely more than a blur, Monroe punched him.

       ONCE, WHEN WE WERE IN SIXTH grade, Aaron and I played a game of hide-and-seek tag. In hindsight, it was a pretty stupid idea for a two-person game. But we made it work.