How to Make Out

by Brianna Shrum

  Drew freezes. “Don’t.”

  “You slept with my girlfriend in your bed, and you want me to stop?” He pushes him again.

  Drew hardly twitches. If anything, his stance is firmer. I can see his fist curling at his side.

  “Listen, man. I actually like you. So don’t touch me again, ’cause I really don’t want to hurt you.”

  Seth’s lips pull back into an almost snarl. “You don’t want me to touch you? Then don’t touch my girlfriend, dick.”

  Drew’s jaw clenches and his eyes spark. I’ve seen this look before. I can tell what’s coming, but I’m frozen in place.

  “Settle down there, Cro Magnon. Defending your woman’s honor or whatever it is you’re trying to do. She’s been your girlfriend for about two minutes. She’s been sleeping in my bed for two years.”

  Seth pulls his arm back and throws a punch. And just as I figured, Drew sidesteps it with very little effort, so Seth’s fist pounds against the wall. Drew shakes his head and straightens, rolling his shoulders, and when Seth rebounds from the wall, Drew swings. Hard.

  His fist slams into Seth’s face with a thud and Seth falls. Drew shakes his head again and walks down the hall without looking back. When he sees me, he doesn’t slow down. He just quietly says, “Sorry about your boyfriend’s face.”

  My mouth is hanging open like a cartoon’s. And I can’t face Seth right now. I don’t even want him to know I saw. So I tuck tail and turn. I’ll walk home.

  21. How to Fix a Broken Thing

  Hey April. What if I just came and picked you up in my dad’s car right now? Would that be cool?

  Sure. See you in a few

  I snatch the keys from their hook and shut the front door behind me, then barrel down the road to April’s house. I choose to ignore the dread pooling in my stomach over seeing Seth, whenever I do inevitably have to see him, and just let myself be happy to see April. It’s silly to be this excited over seeing her, probably. But it’s been how long since I hung out with another girl who was not Stacey?

  When I pull in her driveway, she’s sitting by the window. She notices I’m there, and my palms go all sweaty and shaky. I roll my eyes at myself. What am I so nervous about? It’s not like I’m planning to lose my virginity to her tonight or something.

  She hops in the car and smiles hugely, which somehow makes me more nervous.

  “So. Where are we going?”

  I wiggle my fingers at her.

  “Manicures?” she guesses.

  “I think that’s the best course of action,” I say.

  She stares down at her cuticles and sighs heavily. “Yes, my winter hands are out of control.”

  Then there’s a silence that stretches on for the longest sixty seconds that have ever existed. My heart starts to flutter, and I can finally pinpoint the crappy feeling in my stomach, the lead ball that’s taken up residence since I picked up April. Guilt.

  I can’t stop thinking that she’s going to just up and start yelling at me before we get to the mall, like she did back in class. I don’t even think I can be a great participant in any conversation, because I’m just waiting for her to bring up the party and the total phone silence for … when was the last time we even talked?

  So, I’m sitting there, silently ticking the minutes away, hoping she doesn’t bring up anything. When she doesn’t, of course, I bring it up.

  “I’m really sorry about—”

  “So, the last couple weeks—”

  We stop and look at each other for a second.

  “You first,” she says. Oh great. Thanks for that.

  I keep my eyes on the road. This is partially because, well, I’m driving. But more so because it’s awkward. “I’m sorry about the whole party thing. It was really crappy of me.” I take another deep breath, knuckles white on the steering wheel. “And I’m sorry I haven’t tried to call you or text you or anything since.”

  “To be fair, I could have called you.”

  “Yeah, but I was the one who did the stupid thing to begin with. Kind of my job to make first contact, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, you’re right. This was totally your fault; I was just trying to be nice.”

  “Hey!” I say, hitting her on the shoulder. She laughs and I break into an easy smile and turn up the radio.

  When we get to the mall, April literally leaps from the vehicle and grabs my hand, moving toward the building at such a rapid pace, I’m totally stumbling across the parking lot. The random spots of ice here and there do not help the situation.

  She lets go of my hand and bursts into the mall, energy radiating from everywhere around her. I, unfortunately, fall into said doors from the sheer momentum. But it’s cool. She’s excited, I’m excited, and a door and nose are both slightly worse for the wear. Things could be worse.

  We walk together down the tile halls, occasionally bombarded by the smells of Starbucks or cookie pizzas or enormous amounts of leather wafting out from Brookstone. But, after passing store after store and avoiding one person with a European accent and unbelievable smile trying to wrangle us into buying $150 curling irons, I detect the familiar scent of acetone.

  We both prance in and the lady at the front raises her eyebrows a little when she sees April. Admittedly, the giant turquoise outline of her hair is eyebrow-raise-worthy. April either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.

  “Do you guys have time for two walk-ins?” she asks.

  “What service?”

  “We,” she says, grabbing my shoulder, “are in desperate need of manicures.”

  “Tips or polish?”

  I go for tips. April, to the surprise of no one in the room, heads straight for the neon polish shades, twisting her lip ring as she considers. After much deliberation, she raises a bottle of lime green and smiles triumphantly.

  “Can I get tips in this?”

  The lady raises an eyebrow again. If she doesn’t like the color, I don’t know why she stocks it. Either way, she nods, and April and I go over to the chairs and sit. A girl and a guy emerge from somewhere in the back, and the older, judgy lady sits back at the front desk. I am not disappointed.

  The guy sits in front of me, and the girl in front of April. She has a pink streak running through her hair, and her nails are painted with this crackle stuff that was big in the nineties, and again a year or so ago, but not so much now. She’s perfect for April.

  The guy picks up both of my hands and smiles. “Beautiful hands,” he says. He winks, and I blush. Then they go to work.

  “So,” April says, “tell me about your boy drama.”

  I groan. “It’s just … a lot of ridiculousness. Seth and I are together now, you know.”

  She stiffens barely, almost imperceptibly, but I see it. “Yeah, I figured when I saw you guys holding hands and sucking each other’s tongues off in the halls.”

  “Yeah. Well. Anyway. He’s pissed at me now because he found out Drew and I kissed—”

  “Wait. What? You kissed Drew? When? Where? Oh my gosh, how did I not know this?” Her eyes widen, and I think some of the excited surprise there is genuine, but mixed in with that is a thread of hurt, betrayal. How did I not tell her right after?

  I grin anyway, pretending along with her that there’s not this awkward ribbon of hurt between us. “Yeah, we kissed.”

  “That’s it? No. That is a terrible story. I do not accept your offering. When?”

  “A few weeks ago.”

  “Was it just, like, a ‘My aunt kisses me like this when she leaves after Thanksgiving’ kiss? Or a world-rocking, feel it all the way down to your toes kind of kiss?”

  Now I’m thinking about it all and my skin is prickling. I can feel the blood rushing to my cheeks.

  April grins deviously. “I knew it. I knew you guys would hook up eventually.”

  I can see the girl working on April’s nails stifle a giggle.

  “We didn’t hook up. We kissed. That’s it. Well, not totally it. But anyway—”

  “
That’s not it? What else? You’re obligated to tell me. It’s in the best friend contract.”

  I look around the room and lean into April’s ear and whisper it. “We made out in the woods. And it was good. Unbelievably good. And he …” I sigh, embarrassed to even be talking about this, just because it’s never been me saying these things. To anyone. Ever. “Let’s just say I was half-naked by the end of it. And so was he.”

  She snaps her face toward me, eyes huge. “Which half?”

  “April!” I hiss. Then I roll my eyes. “The top half.”

  “No bra even?” She’s talking mostly low, but she is definitely not making as much of an effort as me to be quiet. I swear the woman at the front is about to throw nail polish remover all over her.

  I lower my voice even more. “No. No bra.”

  “Renley, Renley. What has happened to you in the last few weeks? My little baby’s growing up.”

  “Ugh, shut up. Anyway, so I wasn’t cheating on Seth or anything. But Seth found out about it, and he got all pissed off for some reason.”

  April scoffs. ’Cause yeah, he was being totally ridiculous.

  “So we talked it out, kissed it out, and I thought we were good. But then after school, I walked by the science hall and there’s Drew and Seth talking. Not in a friendly way. So Drew let it slip that I spent the night at his house last night—”At that, April balks again, but I push on through.“—and Seth tried to hit him.”

  “Bad call,” April says.

  “Yeah. Drew knocked him to the ground with one punch.”

  “Well, obviously.”

  “I know. I didn’t even go help him up or anything. I can’t face him now. What am I going to say? ‘Hey, love. I was telling the truth. Nothing’s going on with Drew. Also we kissed and I spent the night in his bed last night, and Drew was in his underwear. We’re just friends. How do you not get that?’”

  April laughs. “Yeah, what was that about? I mean, I know you spend the night over there all the time, but you do have a boyfriend. That’s kind of not cool.”

  My shoulders fall. “I know. And seriously, nothing happened. I was just having a really hard time last night and it’s not like I could come talk to you. So I talked to Drew, and I fell asleep.”

  That stiffness is back in her again, but she covers it with a pseudo-sympathetic smile. “Well, Seth will get over it. And if he doesn’t, screw that.”

  “Yeah.” I lean my head back against the chair as the manicurist starts applying the tips. “Hey, we haven’t even talked about you. What’s going on in your life?”

  She bites her lip and says, “Oh, nothing really.”

  “Lie.”

  “Nothing. Cash and I are still going out. Still saving up for NYC. That’s it.”

  “How’s your brother?”

  She looks away from me. “Fine.”

  “And?”

  She makes an exasperated noise and looks back at my face. “He’s … well, he’s decided to join the army. Just like I knew he would.”

  I’m not sure what to say. “Did … when does he go?”

  “He heads to basic in December. And now he’s spending all this time with all his stupid friends and he’s just totally ignoring me. I don’t even care.”

  I don’t believe that for a second. Tears well up in her eyes, threatening to spill over. I jiggle my leg nervously. When April cries, I just have no idea how I’m supposed to handle it. I don’t think giving her a hug is appropriate. I mean, especially not right now—my hands are kind of occupied. But she’s not a huge hugger, and I think I’ve seen her cry twice ever. So when she does, I always just end up sitting there like an idiot.

  “I’m really sorry, April. That sucks.”

  “That’s the thing. I’m not allowed to feel like it sucks. It’s not like he’s just going off to Italy for a year to find himself. He’s going to serve the country and do this great noble thing. And I know it’s great. And I know it’s noble. And that’s all Mom and Dad ever talk about, so if I freak out, it’s like I’m anti-patriotic. And I’m not.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m just scared. That’s all. It’s not a huge thing.”

  “Well, it kind of is,” I say.

  She rolls her eyes. “That doesn’t help. Don’t make this bigger than it is. My brother is leaving and it’s fine. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” When I catch her eye, it’s like she’s saying, Not to you anyway. You weren’t even there when I found out.

  I feel a sharp stab of shame in the pit of my stomach, but cover it up with a smile. “Fro yo after this? It cures all, you know.”

  She smiles back, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Sure.”

  22. How to Morph into an It Girl

  I sit in front of my computer, scrolling through my blog. It’s getting popular, to say the least. The view number is crazy, and my PayPal account is crazier. In fact, when I run the numbers in my head, I’m … I’m there. I don’t need another dime, as long as my dad and Stacey are willing to contribute a little to the NY fund. And we talked about that at dinner last night for like an hour. Well. I talked about it. Their contribution has been confirmed. A huge smile spreads across my face and I twirl around in my office chair a couple times, then get back to the keyboard.

  I shuffle through a couple questions. DELETE. DELETE. Save for later. And then I’m done. For the money, this has been next to no hard labor. I smile, pleased with my entrepreneurial genius. But the joy is short-lived. I hear a knock at my front door, and my stomach drops. I know before going downstairs who it is.

  “Hey, Seth,” I say when I open it. He’s in a heavy coat. Snow is swirling around outside and I can feel the chill sweep into the house, snaking around my arms and legs.

  “Can I come in?”

  “Sure.”

  He avoids looking at me when he walks past me into the entryway. “You wanna come upstairs?” I ask.

  “Okay.” He slips off his jacket and hangs it by the door, then walks up the stairs, trying way too hard to seem nonchalant.

  I breathe deeply in and out and follow him up, fidgeting more as we get closer to my room and the inevitable confrontation that lies within.

  “How’s your nose?” I ask. It’s red still, and somewhat purple. And his left eye looks a little weird. It’s only been a day, though, so I don’t know what I expected.

  “Fine. What do you mean ‘how’s my nose?’”

  I heave a giant sigh and sit in my computer chair. “I saw the whole thing. Between you and Drew.”

  He nods, not looking nearly as surprised as I assumed he would. “I thought I saw a glimpse of blonde fleeing the scene when I got up.”

  “So,” I say.

  “So,” he parrots.

  “What do you want to do?”

  He looks out the window for a minute, then back at me. “I mean, I don’t want to break up. At least I don’t think I do.”

  I swallow hard, trying like the devil to get past this giant lump in my throat. “I’ll tell you anything. Ask. I swear I’m not going to lie to you.”

  He looks me hard in the eye. “What happened the other night? You slept over?”

  I should have figured he’d start there, but honestly, I was hoping he’d do this lie-detector style. Start with some test questions. What color is the sky? What month is it? What’s your full name? Do you enjoy kissing me?

  “I was just having a sucky day. Really sucky. Just parent stuff, and April and I were on the outs—”

  “Who’s April?” he asks.

  That catches me off guard. How can my boyfriend not even know who April is? Unless … holy crap, I haven’t mentioned her name or hung out with her at all since we’ve been together. That hits me like a punch to the gut.

  “Uh, April, she’s my best friend.”

  “I thought Drew was your best friend.”

  “Well, yeah, Drew is my best guy friend. April is my best girl friend. There’s a big difference.”

  “Anyway …” he
prompts.

  “Yeah. Anyway.” I look down at my fingers, fidgeting furiously. I wish he was holding them. “April and I were going through some stuff. And my mom is just … well, she’s not like your mom. So that sucked, too, and it was really late at night but I was about to totally lose it, so I climbed up on my roof and started crying and Drew heard and felt bad. So he let me come over and hang out. And I fell asleep. That’s it. I swear, he didn’t try anything. And I was fully clothed.”

  “Was he?”

  “… No. But he wasn’t naked either.”

  Seth sits, then, leaning back against the wall for a little while, kneading his temples. “I am just so not okay with this.”

  “I know.”

  “And what is going on with you two? He loves you. You say you don’t love him. But then you go over and spend the night in his bed, which by the way, is something he says has been going on for two years. Is that true?”

  “Yes. Yes, but shouldn’t that tell you that it meant nothing when I went over there the other night? We have never slept together, except, well, literally. But you can ask him and he’ll tell you. It’s just something I’m used to.”

  “Do you get how screwed up it is, though? If you found out I was spending the night at Taylor’s house, even though we’ve never had sex, you’d be pissed.”

  “I know I would. I’d probably dump you, honestly. I guess … I guess I’m just banking on you being more tolerant than me.”

  He scrapes his teeth over his lip, hands lazily clasped over his knee. “I don’t know if I can just ‘be tolerant’ of this, Renley.”

  I feel tears pricking at the back of my eyes and look away.

  “I’m really sorry,” I say weakly.

  “Please don’t cry.”

  “I’m just so stupid. Like, what is wrong with me? I’ve been crushing on you since forever, and after two weeks I’m already screwing it up for a guy I don’t even want to be with.”

  He looks up at me, a glimmer of hope in his eyes, and I swallow back the tears I am refusing to let come. “You don’t? You can look at me and honestly tell me you don’t want to be with him?”