Shut Up And Kiss Me (gxg)

36. Motherf*cking F*ck

     ON THE LAST NIGHT OF the trip, all four of us sat around a high table at a bar. 

      How we'd gotten in, when all of us were minors, was beyond me. It had been Cody's doing.

      "I'm dating the bartender," he explained, nodding over to the man sliding drinks behind a countertop. Ruggedly handsome, with stubble and dark eyebrows, he winked at Cody. He had to be about nineteen. "Or, more accurately, fucking him."

      "Does that mean we can order drinks?" I asked.

      Cody shook his head. "Wouldn't go that far."

      "He's okay with fucking you, but not with giving us alcohol?" Skylar's eyebrows raised higher. "Jesus." 

       "He thinks I'm eighteen."

       "Do you want him to catch a statutory rape charge?"

       "Hey! I'm practically seventeen. My birthday's January 11th, remember?"

       "Practically seventeen isn't the same as seventeen," I argued. 

       "Oh, well." He sighed dramatically. "Let's not talk about the technicalities of how we've arrived at this wonderful restaurant, shall we? As long as we're not bothered by those pesky supervisors, who cares?"

        Skylar leaned forward. "I saw Mrs. O'Hara and Mr. Winter together."

        "So?"

        "So they ducked into a storage closet. And I heard brooms rattling."

        "You did not," I said. "That's . . ." A shudder rippled through me. "I absolutely don't want to think about that."

        "Well, speaking of teachers, I saw Coach Roberts." Cody grinned widely, teeth flashing. "Flirting with a man at a bar."

        "Really?" Skylar and I exchanged a glance. "He stares at the girls' asses during gym class."

        "Yeah, well, don't discount the fact that he could be bisexual."

        Skylar lifted a toast—although, pitifully, it was Sprite. I clinked my glass against hers. 

        "Fuck me," Skylar cheered.

        "Fuck that," I said.

        "Fuck it," Aaron agreed, lifting his glass towards ours.

        And with a final clink, Cody announced, "Fuck this!"

        A few people sitting at nearby tables glanced up. A couple on a date, an older-looking family. Maybe they were giving us dirty looks, but who the fuck cared? These were my friends, and I'd never see the rest of these people again.

        "This ski trip passed by in a blur," I said. "Holy shit."

        And just like that, I was thinking of my favourite night: When Monroe and I had sat in the bathtub, legs tangled up with each other. Only her green eyes had been visible through the metallic pink face mask, and I'd laughed so hard my stomach had hurt. Afterwards, still in our bathing suits, we'd taken a bath together.

       My body flushed hot at the memory. In such close proximity to her, I'd had to force myself to breathe evenly.

       We'd used a lavender bath bomb. The purple had spread, vibrant tendrils, until it engulfed the clear water entirely. I could no longer see beneath the surface, but I'd barely noticed, because Monroe's gaze had been fixed on my mouth.