Kiss Off

Chapter 8

I pull my knees to my chest, a move that's meant to make me feel a little more protected, but it doesn't. The basement is too tight, the air too thick, and Bryson too close for me to feel even the slightest bit safe when it comes to my feelings. It's places like this that are dangerous for girls like me. Girls who are used to pursuing guys and getting what they want. Girls who don't fear their response. Girls who are so accustomed to being denied that the sting barely registers anymore. Places like this are dangerous for girls like me because there's no opportunity for interruption but every opportunity to talk... and talk... and talk.

I'm not going to be able to keep it all in.

In dark, quiet places, people tend to do the only thing that feels natural: fill the void. And it's always in these situations where words are uttered that no others have heard. Risks are taken and simple chatter manages to dive beneath the surface beyond the comfort zone. Topics are unpacked that would normally never even be touched. And yet, here I am... on the verge of making every single mistake I know I shouldn't.

"Did you hear what I said?" I whisper into my bent knees, my vision blurring as I focus too hard on an indecipherable object on the other side of the room. When Bryson doesn't respond, I tilt my head to peer up at him and clarify with, "when the tornado hit?"

Now it's his turn to look uncomfortable as he turns his attention away from me. His eyes narrow in on a nail-ridden plank a few inches from his feet. I can see his thoughts stirring, forming perfect sentences. He doesn't want to break me, but he also wouldn't lie. That's both the worst and best part about him. Bryson would never lie.

I'm readying myself for the stake to the heart and the devastation of hearing his disinterest. I can already hear the excuses: He's only ever seen me as a friend. Or, I'm not his type. Or maybe there's already someone else. Maybe he made it official with Claudia.

Instead he seems to shrug off all his perfectly formatted responses with a simple, "yeah."

I nod to myself, wrapping my arms more tightly around my legs.

"It's funny," I start to say, "I'm not even sure how I became the way that I am. I don't have a tragic backstory to explain away all my weird quirks, or even a precise experience that molded me into this person. But, I remember my first rejection. It was Timothy Hersh." I take a deep breath before diving into the story. "It was at a birthday party. Anna Sweeley was turning nine and decided she wanted the entire class to join her at the water park that Saturday.

"I had liked Timothy for a couple of weeks and figured it was time to make a move, so when we both ended up at the top of the waterslide together, I simply took his hand. You would have thought that I'd just slapped a dead fish into his palm with the way he looked at me." I laugh at the memory that once caused me such pain. "There was so much disgust on his face. All he said was, 'ew', and flung my hand away before bolting for the slide and disappearing into the water. I didn't even bother going down the slide after that. I missed the birthday cake and gifts because I'd locked myself in a bathroom stall so I could cry. Honestly, I'm not even sure what convinced me to leave—probably my mom screaming for me to get my butt in the car. I don't remember. All I remember is how terrible that one boy made me feel. Just a simple 'ew' and a part of me had shattered."

I comb my fingers through my ponytail and chance a look at Bryson. He's not looking at me, but I can tell he's been listening by the contemplative look on his face.

"Pretty pathetic, huh?" I shake my head at myself, hating how weak I'd been back then.

Bryson starts to answer but his words get caught in his throat. I watch him pull his collar up around his face to shield himself from inhaling any more dust as he coughs into the fabric. With an embarrassed grin, he wipes the back of his hand across his mouth.