Frog Kisser

chapter five

Outside Gretchen's house, I was wearing my mother's floral raincoat, two different shoes and a glare that I aimed at the house pulsing with music. Drunken young witches stumbled down the porch. A few guys on the yard were levitating their drinks to their lips while casting a never-ending pour spell. It was either a race to finish or to whoever was going to vomit first.

I clutched my phone in one hand and keys in the other. I didn't have a plan. Didn't even know how to spell "plan" with only red in my vision and blood on the brain. I let my body do the thinking, turning off my thoughts for the first time in my rotten life. Totally blank, I floated into the party, wadding through the bodies.

Until I found Jeremy.

Jeremy on the couch getting straddled by some blonde guy. And they weren't talking. No. Their mouths were too wrapped up in each other to be able to speak. Tongues too preoccupied with shaking hands. Jeremy's hand slipped up this guy's back and my stomach wanted to escape up my throat.

All the music in the house was sucked out. I lost all the color and voices, and I was drifting in a vast abyss of darkness, growing colder by the second.

Some random girl was walking by and I asked, "Hey, can I have this?"

I didn't wait for their response. I snatched the cup and walked right over to Jeremy, dumping whatever was inside on his head.

"What the fuck?" Jeremy asked.

"Yeah! I agree!" I threw open my hands, motioning to all of it. Not knowing where to start. I was shaking at this point, which made my words come out all mangled and frayed. "What the fuck?"

"This must be Calvin," The blonde sighed, climbing off my boyfriend.

"Great. They know about me, which means you talk, which is somehow worse than thinking you two just dry hump each other all the time."

The homewrecker snorted. "Yeah, he's just like you said."

"Okay." I put a hand up to this guy's face because I really didn't want to look at how attractive he was or how gorgeous his blue eyes were any longer. He looked like a Ken doll. I hated him. "You have to start talking less. Jeremy, I've had a few relationships end and once they end, they've over. And usually, my ex-boyfriends wait until it's over to find someone else and live happily gay ever after with someone that isn't me—"

I had glanced at the other guy for a second when I realized something. "Oh, gross. We have the same haircut."

Jeremy meekly smiled as if he never noticed until now. "It's a good haircut."

"You're a bad haircut," I snapped without thinking, which earned me several raised brows. Despite the warmth pooling in my cheeks like molten magma and I'd suffer third degree burns, I couldn't stop myself, "You're a human bowl cut, wrapped up in a rat tail and a mullet."

"Cal, let me explain," Jeremy said in that way where I was supposed to calm me down, but it riled me back up. How was I supposed to be calm in this situation? Or maybe Jeremy was just trying to look mature in front of this blonde guy. But I was passed maturity. I was passed a civil conversation. I was leading closer to arson or capital murder.

Red in the face, I could see the ends of my hair turn a shade of black I had never seen before. "Don't call me that. Only people who care about me get to call me that and you obviously don't. Have a nice life Jeremy, I hope this guy cheats on you with someone who can actually make a man orgasm."

Someone nearby did a spit take.

Finally, I had a win.

I spun around and tried to disappear inside the horde of bodies. It was so unbearably loud in this house, so hot, I thought I was going to lose it. Then, in the corner of the room, I spotted David leaning against the wall and talking to that girl from earlier in the day. She said something and he laughed. Really laughed. No feigning amusement to be polite. His eyes crinkled and he showed her his dimples.