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We met had a strong Spanish accent, but luckily that was my second language, so we spoke easily. It’s probably one of the main reasons we became best friends. We watched each other survive our pimple-face awkward stages, puberty, first crushes, first heartbreaks…we went through it all together. Hell, I was there when Noah kissed the one and only girl -Sloppy Becky Rolando- and watched him go through three months of soul searching afterward.
The memory has me smiling to myself, biting my lip and looking down at my hands as I think of the mortification on his face when Becky shoved her tongue into his mouth. Yeah, it was consensual, but I’m pretty sure Noah had no clue kissing could feel so foreign. We sure as shit learned two things after that.
One, Becky was a sloppy kisser, hence the monikerSloppyBecky.
Two, Noah was definitelynotinto girls…or their tongues.
I blame Becky for the unforgivable loss all women have suffered due to her lapping tongue.
I can’t hold back the snicker that leaves me. I slap a hand over my mouth and glance at Noah, finding him glaring at me like I just popped a squat on his grandmother’s grave.
“Really, chica? You’re laughing right now? Wait, have you been bullshitting me this whole time?”
I chuckle and force composure, but the weed has the giggles running through me at the moment and I can’t stop from grinning like a fool as I answer him.
“No bullshitting,guapo, I was just in my head, thinking about you and Sloppy Becky.”
His face is priceless, a mask of complete horror at the forbidden topic and I can’t help it. I burst out laughing, making gross kissy faces at him, sticking my tongue like a snapchat filter before screaming when he grips the back of my neck and yanks me down. Before my slow brain can catch up to his movements, my chest slams down on the tops of his thighs, his fingers dig into my neck painfully as he growls in my ear.
“You swore an oath to never speak of that again. If you think you can bring up forbidden topics and the jet out of here, you’re wrong,chica, because I’ll follow you even into death and make sure you take my punishment.”
With his free hand, he swings down onto my ass in six quick hard slaps that have me squirming and panting, ready to bite the crap out of his thigh. He’s done this to me before, but it’s so rare that he has to truly be pissed with me or so beyond frustrated with me that he resorts to physical punishment.
It was funny when we were kids and he used achanclarather than his hand, but now…fuck me, I don’t have the fucking courage to admit how confused it makes me, so I do what I do best, I joke.
“Oh yes, daddy, harder!” I scream, making him jump up and taking me with him. His eyes glitter with emotion.
“I swear to fuck, your mouth is something else. C’mon, let's go get some drinks. I’ll come up with a plan to keep you here cause there’s no fucking way I’m done with you yet.”
He walks off leaving me alone with only the sound of my ovaries exploding and my heart cursing my feminine parts.
Damn, how I wish he was into me.
A couple of hours and a six pack of beer later, I find myself in the middle of a heated debate between Rico and some douche from school about who the best rapper of all time is. Of course, Rico goes with Megan Thee Stallion while douche chooses Tupac. I don’t disagree with either of those choices, but I know without a doubt Rico chose that queen because she’s fucking hot as sin, everything Rico Suavé dreams of. After all, his mind takes up residency in the gutter 24/7, expecting anything else from his hormonal mind is a fool’s wish.
I stand, tired of the bickering, and snatch the blunt they were passing back and forth during their ridiculous argument and walk off to find a quieter spot to chill.
“Hey, puta! We were smoking that!” The douche yells at my back before his painful grunt rents the air followed by Noah and Rico’s angry voices.
I keep walking, stepping over discarded beer bottles and a couple making out…or are they fucking already?
The bonfire is held on the Celorios’ private property on the edge of the city, the land has no buildings aside from what was once the barn that held all the cows the previous landowners had. I’m guessing the place was once a dairy farm. I’m unsure what the property will be turned into, maybe nothing considering the Celorios haven’t set foot here since purchasing some odd years ago, so it’s been used to host our parties.
In the middle of the twenty or so acres is a small lake -or big pond, depending on how you see it- and it’s where I’m headed now. The grass around the bed of water is marshy and will suction you like wet cement, so some of the past partygoers placed large logs on spots that won’t leave your shoes stuck in the mud. I find the closest one and sit down alone before relighting the blunt I stole. I turn at the sound of Noah calling my name and grin when he’s accosted by none other than Sloppy Becky. Noah is too nice to her for his own good, so he stops and chats with her, entertaining her because he never had the heart to tell her she kisses like a slug.
“Who kisses like a slug?” A voice startles me out of my trance.
I’m too high to really scream in fear, but that doesn’t stop me from staring wide-eyed at the guy standing ten feet away. How the fuck did I not see him there?
He’s dressed in all black with a leather and suede jacket, black cargo pants tucked into high-top buckle boots. His long brown hair hangs around his face giving him an eighties hair band look. The sleeve of his jacket has an even darker outline of the skull. There’s not a hint of color on him. His face is covered by shadows with the bonfire being at his back.
When he turns to me, probably wondering why I haven’t answered him, I can see he has a tattoo beneath his right eye, but I can’t make out what it’s supposed to be. It looks like an upside-down triangle, the kind you see painted on a clown.
Forcing myself to acknowledge him rather than stare like a fool, I clear my throat, “Erm, what?”
Smooth, Val, you don’t sound like a moron at all.
The guy chuckles softly before snapping his arm forward, releasing a rock that skips along the surface of the water before sinking.
