Melt With You

by Addison Moore

  “No thanks. I’ll save the theatrics for the drama department.”

  “Are these seats taken?” Stacey comes over with Michelle and Kelly.

  Crap. I’ve successfully managed to avoid Kelly when possible, with the exception of the classes we’re in together—the team projects she’s managed to land us on, seeing that manipulation is her superpower. If there’s one reason I can’t wait for graduation to get here, it’s Kelly Masterson. And, if there’s one reason I can wait for graduation to get here, it’s Melissa Malinowski.

  Kelly bares her fangs at Melissa, and suddenly I’m not so interested in theatrics myself.

  “I’ll have a draft of my part of the report done this evening.” Kelly bats her lashes at me.

  She’s my partner in U.S. Government—not by choice, but I’m sure her aforementioned manipulative superpowers played into it somehow. Kelly always gets her way. Nevertheless, we’re constructing a fifteen-page essay together on human rights. It’s a time kill—one that Kelly is happy to dwell in forever. Her English skills pretty much suck. She actually writes the words like and totally into her portion of the essay. Suffice it to say, our grade will not be totally bitchin’ as she proclaims.

  “So, like, when’s the cast coming off?” Kelly doesn’t beat around the bush.

  Stacey leans in. “Three fucking weeks.” As if she, too, is exasperated by this dilemma.

  “Just three?” Kelly steals a fry off my tray.

  “That’s right.” Melissa says it so sweetly I want to scoop her up and spare her of trying to have a conversation with this barracuda. “I think he’s going to put me in a walking boot, but my mom says—”

  “Homecoming is Friday,” Kelly cuts her off, never taking her eyes from mine. “You going?”

  “Yup. You?” I continue the artwork I’m pursuing over Mel’s leg. It started off as Snoopy, but it’s sort of morphed into a wicked looking Superman.

  “Only if you’ll take me.” Kelly never was one to waste an opportunity.

  I look up at her before glancing to Mel. Melissa has already made it clear we should both go stag. Not sure why she was so staunch. I was all set to ask her to be my date, but I think that maybe all the extra time I’ve spent with Kelly lately has her spooked.

  “I’m headed there after the game.” I give Superman horns just for the hell of it. “A group of us are just going to hang out.” I glance at Mel again because she just so happens to be in that group. After the last few games, all of which we’ve slaughtered the opposition—Mel and I just head back to my house and hang out, listening to music, and trying to beat one another’s score on video games. I fucking love this girl. It’s like I cloned myself and turned into a hot chick. We’re that much alike.

  I freeze just as I’m about to put the cap onto the Sharpie—thunderstruck. I blink over at her in shock. I love Melissa.

  It’s incredibly ironic that this thought, this very real emotion just hit me like a brick while in the middle of a conversation with my ex. I love Melissa Malinowski.

  A laugh rumbles in my chest. A goofy grin surfaces, and there’s no way I can fight it.

  “What’s so funny?” Kelly snipes as if I’ve deliberately done something to incite her wrath—as if Mel and I had an inside joke and she were the unfortunate butt.

  “Nothing.” I take a breath. How in the hell am I going to tell Melissa this? My heart soars. It feels as if a weight just lifted off my chest. Our eyes connect, and it’s as if we’re the only two people at the table—in the room.

  I love Melissa. Deeply. Hard. I love her easy ways, her beautiful—fucking beautiful face, her cutting sense of humor, and her excellent taste in music. We should say screw homecoming and do something together, just she and I.

  Kelly raps her knuckles over the table, pulling me out of my love-struck stupor.

  “So Mouse-akowski, you going?” Kelly openly sneers at her.

  “Be nice,” I growl.

  “Yes.” Melissa shakes her head at me as if to say it’s fine. She’s too nice for her own good. One of these days someone needs to bite Kelly’s head off. I’d love for it to be Mel. “In fact, I already have my dress and my shoe.” She wiggles the toes on her left leg.

  There goes the idea of it being just the two of us, but in a way I’m glad. I wouldn’t want Melissa to miss homecoming, especially the dance. I know it’s a big deal to girls, and I want to make it special for her. I plan on it.

  “Oh, like really?” Kelly cuts a quick glance to Michelle and gives the hint of an evil smile. “So, like what kind of dress?” Kelly bears her fangs, but Melissa doesn’t seem to notice. She simply describes her gown, white with heavy lace, a pink bow in the back, and Kelly laps it all up as if it were just the knowledge she were hoping to procure for her wicked scheme. Although, I bet what she really wants to know is if I’m sleeping with Mel. She already has Russell and Frankie crawling up my ass trying to get information.

  Kelly laughs right in Mel’s face. Knew it.

  “I meant the designer.” She smirks. “Who’s the designer?”

  “Oh, gosh, I have no idea.” Mel blinks at me as if asking is she for real? “I bought it at Contempo. How about you?”

  “Gunne Sax.” She gets up, and Michelle follows along like a good little pet. “They don’t sell those at Contempo, do they?” She leans in to me as she starts to take off. “Stop embarrassing yourself with that thing,” she whispers. “I’ll save the last dance for you.”

  Michelle laughs as they walk away. “I’m so sure.”

  And Kelly snarks, “Like bag those toes.”

  They take off, and I tap my artwork on Mel’s cast. “Hope you like monsters.”

  Her brows inch up a notch. “One just left the table.”

  Melissa always knows the right thing to say.

  Now to figure out how and when to say those three little words to her that are suddenly eating a hole in my heart.

  I love you, Mel. A dull smile rides on my lips as our eyes magnetize.

  She gives a simple nod as if she heard, her eyes never leaving mine.

  Sometimes it feels as if we don’t need words at all.

  * * *

  Homecoming is late in October this year, just a few days from Halloween, so that means two huge party weekends back-to-back. Then, after that, it’s just two more games, and we’re done for the season. I’ve always thought football season was a bit too short, but this year it seems to have flown by, leaving me wondering where the heck the time went.

  The game is raw, visceral, the fog rolls onto the field, giving it a haunting appeal, and for whatever reason, the eerie effect charges me. Hell, it charges the entire team with an energy we haven’t seen before. We take the win from Lincoln like stealing Halloween candy from a baby. After the congratulatory head-butts, the endless high fives, I bullet through the crowd, right toward the stands, still pumped with adrenaline.

  I give a howling roar as I come up on Mel and snap off my helmet. She jumps up to meet me, and I spin her, taking in the flowery scent of her hair as if it can get me high, and it does.

  “You were freaking awesome!” she shrills. Her hair fans out from her face a good half-foot. Her eyes are wrung with electric blue liner making them glow, and she looks damn beautiful.

  “I think you’re pretty awesome.” And then I do it. I crash my lips to hers right here on the field, in front of the entire student body, my friends, my parents, my teachers, and, yes, my ex-girlfriend. But I don’t really care who might be watching. I just dive into Melissa’s mouth and take what’s mine. I want every single part of this girl. I’m ready to move this party to the next level, and I hope she is, too. A perfect win followed up by a perfect girl. This is definitely a homecoming to remember.

  After what feels like an eternity, I bounce her to the ground. “You want me to take you home to change?” The entire school is making a quick exit to get ready for the dance.

  She bites down on her lip, her lashes fluttering a mile a minute. Melissa b
lushes a deep burgundy that’s evident even in this dim light, and it makes my stomach squeeze tight.

  “I’m taking off with Heather. She’s offered to help.” She holds out her broken leg. “Save a dance for me?”

  I wince. “Only the slow ones.”

  “Those are the only ones I need.” She whacks my ankle with her crutch before taking off, and I start jogging for the gym, only to have Kelly intercept me.

  She’s like a gnat I can’t get rid of.

  “Like, what the hell was that all about, Miller?” Her eyes are alive with fury. Her hair stands straight up in the front like a frozen sheet of ice, and I can definitely feel a chill radiating off her. “I thought you were being nice to that girl while we’re on this ridiculous break, but you’re fucking making out with her? And not even behind my back!” A psychotic laugh escapes her. “You just disrespected me in front of God and all of my friends. You are so not cool, Joel Miller. So not cool.”

  Crap. “I’m not disrespecting you. I promise you, that wasn’t my intention.” As much as I’d like to go off right now, I know the shitstorm is only going to rain down on Mel if I do.

  “Then, like what do you call it?” She jams her fist into her hip. Kelly was pissed about something for the entire duration of our relationship, and oddly this argument makes it very much feel like I’m still in a relationship with her.

  “I call it moving on.” I walk past her. “You should try it sometime.” As much as I want to have a dignified conversation with Kelly, I know that isn’t going to happen anytime soon. And I, for one, don’t have time to entertain crazy tonight. I need to get home, get some decent clothes on, so I can hang out with a girl I’d much rather entertain—Mel.

  * * *

  It takes more time to shower, shave, and change into a monkey suit than I thought it would. Who knew that having to put on a jacket and tie essentially means I turn into a wuss when it comes to grooming? I arrive at the gym a full forty minutes late and find Russell and Frankie hanging out by the door like a couple of dorks.

  “You two holding up a wall? You’re a bunch of pussies.” I sock them each in turn, light, but with some meat to let them know how much I care.

  “Dude, you’re fucking Hercules.” Frankie cups his arm where I hit him. “Don’t do that again, or I’m going to have to go old school on your ass and call up my boys from San Ramos.”

  “All right. No evoking the fear of San Ramos in me tonight. I’m here to have a good time. Where are all the chicks? And why aren’t you two scoping them out?”

  I do a quick, yet thorough sweep of the vicinity for Mel, and my heart stops when I spot her. A light shines down on her from above making her look like a bona fide angel. Her hair is up in the back, and that white lace dress she’s wearing hugs her curves in all the right places, cutting into her like an hourglass. Her eyes are more of an exaggerated almond shape tonight, heavy on the makeup, but it looks good on her, and her lips shine a dewy pink. She’s swaying to the music, some new wave crap I know for sure she’s digging, and my heart soars seeing her so happy, so damn beautiful.

  “Like what you see?” Russell slaps my shoulder. “Dude, take her down. Why haven’t you bedded that chick yet?”

  “Because she’s not just some chick.” I flick his hand off me. “We’re taking it slow.” As in not even discussing the prospect of sleeping together. Maybe I’ll bring it up tonight. I wince at the idea. That would be just like me to say I love you, then ask to jump her bones. I’m pretty sure that would go off like a nuke in my face.

  “You take it any slower, and your dick will invert.”

  It feels as if I’m already suffering this deforming fate, but it’s not true. I’ve been putting Rosie Palm to good use while a dirty reel goes off in my mind starring Mel and me. I should probably feel bad about the whole thing, but I need that release, and she’s the only girl I want to think of while getting it.

  “Don’t worry about my dick.”

  A slow song comes on over the speakers, “Careless Whisper,” and half the girls have a music-inspired orgasm. Peter goes over, and just like that, he starts dancing with Mel.

  Frankie swats me. “Dude, what the hell is he doing?”

  “Gunning for a broken nose?” Russell flatlines, even though he couldn’t care less who Mel is dancing with. “You are aware that he and Amy broke up this week.”

  “No shit?” My stomach explodes into a ball of acid. “You think he’s putting the moves on Mel?”

  “Mel?” Frankie belts out a laugh. “Dude, you guys are at the nickname phase of your relationship. You’re like a minute from banging that chick.”

  “Shut up.” I smack his arm before taking off. Usually, I wouldn’t mind Frankie and Russ talking that way. Heck, we’ve done it so many times regarding so many girls that it’s practically in our vernacular, but Mel, she’s off limits when it comes to that.

  I tap good old Peter on the shoulder, hard, really hard, and he graciously gets out of my way. As he should. I scowl at him a moment as he backs away, then quickly grin at Melissa. I can’t help it. She sponsors several degrees of insanity in me.

  “I swear, you look like an angel.” I cup a hand over her waist and hold out the other while threading our fingers. Just seeing her this close makes me feel as if I’m free- falling. She’s that beautiful. “You’re gorgeous.”

  Her body presses close to mine, and it feels good to hold her like this, to sway to the music while her warm breath falls against my chest.

  Her face darkens, even in this dim light. Melissa bites down on a smile—her signature move, and I secretly love the fact I’ve elicited that response.

  “You clean up nice yourself.” She leans hard on her crutch and runs her finger down my chest. “I wouldn’t mind seeing what’s underneath there sometime.”

  My heart gives a solid thump. Green light. That’s what I’ve been waiting for.

  “Your wish is my command.” We finish out the dance, her sweet perfume intoxicating me the whole while. The music picks right back up with a gyrating rhythm, Chaka Kahn’s “I Feel for You,” and I make a lame excuse to head over to Frankie who’s standing by the refreshment counter.

  “Close call,” he muses. “She almost had you. I’ve seen you bust a move. It’s not pretty.”

  “I don’t see you out there.”

  “That’s because I save all my moves for the bedroom.” His hand does the wave, and ten different girls sigh in his direction. If Frankie gets any more bedroom action, his dick might actually fall off.

  “There you go.” We watch as the girls bump and grind on the dance floor, with only a few brave male souls jerking right there with them.

  I snatch a Solo cup off the counter and down it. Tastes like lemonade that someone washed their feet in. “Geez. Who made this? Tastes like Kelly took a piss in it.”

  We share a laugh just as a horrible scream comes from the opposite end of the gym. I turn to find a girl drenched from head to toe lying in a pool of red.

  It’s Mel.

  7

  Like a Virgin

  Melissa

  Pig’s blood.

  It’s all I can think, even though I innately know this is nothing more than heavily syruped Hawaiian Punch. Someone has taken a page out of Stephen King’s playbook and doused my beautiful, beautiful dress with artificial coloring that neither this once white fabric nor this girl will ever forgive. I’m sprawled over the gym floor with my legs in two different directions, my hair plastered against my head.

  The Go-Go’s “Our lips are Sealed” starts up, loud and proud through the speakers, and I’ll forever connect this happy-go-lucky song with this hopelessly miserable moment.

  “Melissa!” Jennifer shrieks as she leaps onto me as if somehow throwing her body over mine will stop the proverbial bleeding. Too late. I’ve taken a hit, and I’m covered in what might as well be human plasma.

  “My dress,” I whimper as Jennifer pulls me into a hug.

  “Forget the dress. Wh
o do I have to kill?”

  Before I can get another word out, Joel helps scoop me up. He helps Jen up, too, as we try our best to shake off the excess syrup quickly growing sticky. An entire mob of school administrators doubling as chaperones attack me with paper towels, and I’m swiftly shuttled outside.

  From the stage, the microphone lets out an ear-piercing scream as Mr. Sardona admonishes the crowd. Great. He’ll probably use this nightmare scenario as a writing prompt for his class come Monday morning.

  “Kill me,” I whisper as Joel helps dry off my cast. The paper towel brigade dissipates, and soon it’s just the three of us standing outside.

  “I’m so sorry.” He gives my cast one final buff, exposing its new brilliant pink hue. “Let me take you home.”

  Jennifer plucks me away from him as if pulling me from the ledge of a cliff. “I’ll be the one taking her home. We’ve seen what happens when she hangs out with you!”

  “I refuse to go home. I don’t want my parents to see me like this.” It’s true. Mom had so much hope for me tonight. She even mentioned something at breakfast about me being crowned homecoming queen. I’d hate to burst her tiara-based delusions so soon into the night. “I want to at least wait until they go to bed.”

  “We’ll go to my house,” Joel offers.

  “Are you kidding?” Jennifer shouts. Her nostrils flare with her rage as if Joel just offered to set my hair on fire. “You and your stuck-up friends have done enough for her!”

  “Would you stop? He wasn’t anywhere near me. I was going to the bathroom, and I stepped on a loose board or something. The table tipped sideways. It was a total accident.”

  Jennifer’s mouth falls open. “You really believe this, don’t you?”

  “I know this. It was just me being a klutz. Wrong place, wrong time. We all know I’m prone to that.” I kick up my lead foot.

  Her eyes steady over mine. “I’ve known you since kindergarten, and you’ve yet to have such a crappy year.”