Shut Up And Kiss Me (gxg)

6. F*ck This

        JUST KIDDING. THAT DIDN'T  actually happen.

        Monroe just blinked at me, before a confident smirk tugged on the corner of her mouth. I had never found a smile so attractive.

        But the hallucination of her kissing me . . . that couldn't be healthy, could it?

        I was no expert on sexuality, but I was pretty sure that imagining what her mouth would taste like on mine was definitely not straight.

        Did she recognize me from the day in the parking lot?

        Did I want her to recognize me?

        I remembered the way her fingers pulled through her ink-black hair as she undid it from her ponytail. I remembered how vivid her green eyes were in the rain. The blood on her knuckles, the ferocity in her eyes . . . it made her hot as hell.

       Monroe. Fucking. Kingston.

        Obviously, I was just a straight girl admiring another girl's looks.

        Nothing more to it. 

        It took me too long―an awkward amount of time too long―to realize we were just staring at each other.

        Or was I just staring at her?

        "I should definitely, um, go," I said.

        Monroe's smile was so sharp, so confident, that my eyes wandered over the shape of her lips, tracing over the curve of her soft, luscious mouth, the way it moved . . .

        The way it moved.

        She was speaking―and I hadn't heard a word.

        A thought came to mind: Skylar calling herself a gay disaster. 

        "Yeah, I should go," I blurted out.

        And then Monroe really did lean in.

       This isn't a hallucination. Oh, my God. This isn't a hallucination. 

        Her lips were against my jaw, I lost the ability to breathe, and she whispered, "This should help your problem."

        As inspiration for my wet dreams?

        But she didn't pin me against the locker and fuck me senseless, like my dirty mind pictured. I didn't even realize what she had done until she stepped back.

        I could only stare at her knuckles. And it dawned on me that she had struck my locker open with only her fist.

        Behind me, the locker door creaked.

        I might have said thanks, but it was more likely I just stammered incoherently.

        "No problem," she said coolly, and when she was gone, I sank down against my locker, hugging my knees to my chest.

        Was this what they called a gay awakening?

      "YOU'RE LATE." JORDANA'S ARMS WERE  crossed, her pink lips pinched into a scowl. "You know how important practice is with Battle of the Bands coming up."

       It was what the school district had named their music competition. Probably to make it sound much cooler.

       "Back me up, Olivia," said Jordana, shooting Olivia a death-defying glare. "Talia is eighteen minutes late."