Kissing Frogs - A Tropical Fairytale

So long, South Beach...

"An average of seventy-four species become extinct every day, which was one good reason but not the only one to hold someone's hand..."

― Nicole Krauss, The History of Love

Chapter One

I slam the classroom door behind me. It bangs louder than expected and I dart a guilty look over my shoulder. The door stays shut as the reverberations echo down the hallway, empty except for a gorgeous guy in a tight white shirt leaning against a row of banged up blue lockers, looking like he just stepped out of a Hollister ad. My heart, still hammering from the conversation I just had with Mr. A, thumps even harder. I still can't believe that the most popular guy in school is waiting for me. Apparently he can't believe it either, because an annoyed expression crosses his face as he looks up from his phone.

"What did Mr. A want?" he asks, jamming his cell in the pocket of his Sevens.

I drop my bag and, with shaking hands, attempt to open my lock. I'm having trouble remembering the combination.

"I'm failing bio," I say, finally yanking the lock down after several tries. The statement sounds absurd to my ears.

"So?" Miles asks.

"So Miami is out," I whisper, one hand going to my mouth as if to keep the words from escaping.

"What?" His cobalt eyes take on a sharp quality, matching his voice. "What did he say?"

"He wants me to go with the stupid conservation club down to Panama, to help some endangered frogs or something." I'm not too sure of the details, having been knocked on my ass about my grade. I toss battered textbooks in my locker, and rest my forehead against the back of my hand, breathing in formaldehyde and failure.

"Did you tell him you can't go?"

Lifting my head, I look at him. "Tried, but he said if I wanted any chance at passing, I have to do a report for extra credit and make up all the missed lab time." Unfortunately Miles's free period coincides with biology, which means I don't always make it to class.

"Everything's booked and paid for, Jess," he says slowly, like I'm two years old. "The flights, the condo on South Beach." He cocks an eyebrow full of innuendo. "It's our last spring break before we graduate."

"I know, I know." My stomach churns. "It's just that if I don't get my grade up then Berkeley's totally off the table..." I examine my reflection in the locker mirror. Blue eyes bulge in a face tinged with green. I look like one of those frogs Mr. A was yammering on about.

"I thought you didn't want to go to Berkeley anymore?" Miles says. I turn to him and he tucks a piece of pale blonde hair behind my ear. "I thought you wanted to stay home with me."

I hesitate, unsure and unwilling to explain that before we met I was an entirely different person. Someone for whom Berkeley had once been the ultimate prize. Someone Miles wouldn't have looked twice at.

"It's just that my dad will freak when he finds out," I finally say. That's an understatement. I have no idea how I'm going to break the news to my father that his princess, former straight A, all-state spelling bee champ who'd skipped a year, is now failing grade twelve biology. I'm having trouble wrapping my own head around it and I know about the missed assignments. "He'll make me go when he hears."

Miles shrugs, his fingers sweeping hair the exact shade as mine to the side. We have the same stylist. Lorenzo's been a bit heavy-handed with the platinum lately. "Shitty," he says. Surprised, I inspect his perfect face. The incensed outrage I'm expecting on my behalf, or at the very least, at the interference with his plans, doesn't materialize. "Maybe this is a good thing," he says instead, shifting his bag on his shoulder.

"What?" I blink at him.

"Maybe we could use a break." His statement hits me in the face like a bucket of icy water.

"Are you serious?" I splutter.

"Yeah, you'll be in Panama, I'll be in South Beach — we might as well both have fun."

"Are you saying you want to hook up with other people?" My voice takes on a high-pitched frequency. I'm surprised all the dogs in the neighborhood don't come running.

He looks down at his Converse shoes then backs up. "That's not what I'm saying."

But it is. It's exactly what he's saying.

"Miles, can we talk about this?" I struggle to bring the hysteria down a notch as pieces of my new life, the life I've fought so hard for, crumble around me.

"It's really not such a big deal, Jess."

My mouth opens and closes like a goldfish.

"All I'm saying is, it's just for a week or so, right, babe?" He follows up with a sexy smile. Scratch that — an arrogant smile.

Don't do it, Jess. Don't.

"And all I'm saying is, you're just an asshole." I shut my locker with such savagery it pops back open, narrowly missing my face. Mr. A pokes his head out of the classroom, gray irises owl-wide, framed by matching silver circles.

"Everything okay out here?" He looks from Miles to me but retreats when he sees my wild-eyed expression. "Ah, I'll just be in here if you need..." He closes the door, cutting himself off.

"Jess, wait." Miles calls after me as I start for the exit. "You're right, that was a total dick thing to say. I don't know what I was thinking." I stop, turn and look at him — the guy all the girls want to date, the guy who's supposed to take me to prom, the guy who surprised me with a trip to Miami for my birthday.

"But you were thinking it all the same." My voice cracks.

"I was just teasing you," he says, not quite able to make eye contact.

But I've been teased before. Extensively. And I know the difference between a joke and a statement that smacks of truth. The question is: do I let it go? The fact that my boyfriend just admitted to my face he wants to hook up with other girls while he's in South Beach? I should just let it go ... Don't all guys think like that?

I walk back to him and pick my bag off the ground, my eyes locking with his.

"I'm keeping Lorenzo." I turn and walk away. Away from him. Away from the reality I spent the last few years creating. It's either that or drop-kick him in the balls.

I don't get far.

He grabs my arm and spins me around. "Fine. Screw biology, screw Berkeley and screw the frogs!" he says, jaw set, eyes narrowed. "Go tell Mr. A you're not going."

He marches me up to the classroom like I'm a delinquent and raps on the door. Mr. A opens it and looks at us, his left ear red from pressing it up against the wood. "Yes?"

I open my mouth but nothing comes out. Miles prods me in the back. I jump.

"Hi, Mr. A I just wanted to let you know..." I hesitate, glancing at Miles, then back to Mr. A. "...that I'd be happy to join the club down in Panama for spring break."

Author's Note: Welcome to my book! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it! If you do, please don't hesitate to vote, comment, follow or share with a friend! If you want to connect on Social Media you can find me @alishasevigny on Insta, Twitter and FB. 

Happy Reading!

xoxo

Alisha