In The Backseat

Chapter 5: Tasting Anger

The next morning, the sun filtered through the curtains, soft and peaceful—completely inappropriate for the level of rage simmering inside me. I had spent half the night tossing and turning, replaying the kiss over and over again in my head. Each time, it made me angrier. It wasn't just that Calitrope had kissed me; it was that she had done it without a second thought, as if my first kiss was just some throwaway moment she could use for her own petty, jealous reasons.

And now? Now she was snoring like a contented bear, sprawled out on her bed, completely oblivious to the storm brewing a few feet away. I glared at her from my desk, resisting the urge to throw something—anything—at her. Maybe her math textbook. At least that would serve some dual purpose.

I mean, who does that? Who kisses someone in the middle of a party, completely disregarding their feelings, and then just... passes out drunk afterward like nothing happened?

I stared at her, willing her to wake up so I could finally let her have it. She had to know what she'd done, how much it had affected me, how much it mattered. But of course, she remained blissfully asleep, drooling on her pillow.

This was going to be an uphill battle.

It wasn't until later in the day that Calitrope finally rolled out of bed, groggy and disoriented, looking like she'd been hit by a truck. Her hair was a mess—well, messier than usual—and she rubbed her eyes like she was still trying to piece together where she was.

I sat at the small table in our dorm room, arms crossed, waiting for her to acknowledge me. Waiting for her to remember.

She stretched, groaning dramatically. "Ugh... What time is it?"

"Almost noon," I replied, my voice clipped.

She glanced at me, her brows knitting together slightly. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Oh, finally.

"Like what?" I snapped, my anger bubbling just under the surface. "Like I've been waiting all morning for you to remember that you stole my first kiss last night and then just passed out drunk without so much as an apology?"

Calitrope blinked, staring at me as if I had just spoken in another language. For a brief moment, I could see her trying to put the pieces together, her face still hazy from the hangover. "Wait, what? We're still on about that?"

"Still on about that?" I echoed, my voice rising with every word. "Yes, Calitrope, we are still on about that. You kissed me, and I've been fuming about it all night. This isn't just something I'm going to drop."

She rubbed her temples, wincing slightly as she dragged herself out of bed. "Vee, I told you I didn't mean to make it a big deal. I was just trying to piss off Tatiana. You know how it is."

"No, I don't know how it is!" I shot back, standing up now, my anger finally boiling over. "That was my first kiss, and you treated it like some casual, throwaway moment. You didn't even ask me! You just... did it."

Calitrope blinked again, still half-dazed from her hangover, and leaned against the wall for support. "Okay, I get it, but... you're really this mad about it?"

Was she serious?

"Am I really this mad about it?" I repeated, my voice shaking with frustration. "Yes, Calitrope, I am. You took something from me. My first kiss, without even thinking about how I felt. Do you know how much that matters to me? Or do you just not care?"

She winced again, probably more from the headache than from guilt, but at least she seemed to be paying attention now. "I didn't think it was that big of a deal. It was just... a kiss."