𝟬𝟮𝟭 The Lamb and the Slaughterhouse

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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONEThe Lamb and the Slaughterhouse

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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The Lamb and the Slaughterhouse


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WHEN RHIANNON WAS fifteen, she had her first kiss on the Ferris wheel at the county fair, with a boy who smelled like Old Spice and chewed cinnamon gum. His name was Daniel. He used way too much tongue. She remembered staring up at the metal beams overhead and counting bolts to get through it, wondering if all kisses felt like being licked by a wet sock.

It sucked, because she wanted her first kiss to be special, just like the movies. And because the setup was there — the air saturated with a strange mix of kettle corn and cotton candy, the lights from the Tilt-a-Whirl flickering in her peripheral vision as they rose higher into the sky — but the feeling wasn't. She'd write it down in her diary with a wistful sigh though, hearts and stars and lipstick kisses stamped on the corner of the page, pretending it'd been nice enough. Deep down, she knew the truth: it didn't spark. It didn't burn. It didn't make her feel anything except slightly nauseous and vaguely annoyed. It wasn't until a few months later, during a slumber party, that the idea of kissing actually felt interesting.

Rhiannon had been curled under a wool blanket, watching Grease, the raciest movie she'd seen at the time, when she said they should practice. Lori said yes. It only happened once. It was soft and a little awkward. And yet, Rhiannon had laid awake for hours after. So that's what it's supposed to feel like...

The point is, none of the kisses she's ever had since then held a candle to this.

The current moment.

Because she had forgotten how to function.

She could've sworn she was hallucinating. Or that she had stumbled into a dream. That was what this moment felt like, it was soft around the edges and misty and unreal. She couldn't think straight. Not when Steve Harrington was kissing her. He was kissing her like real couples do, and her mind had dissolved into mush, rendering her completely and utterly defenseless. She guessed that was what a good kiss could do — make her forget all sense of time and space.

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