Blissful

"So... Blush, was it?" His amber eyes narrow just slightly in amusement, knowing he's wrong but daring me to correct him.

"It's Bliss. Rhymes with kiss." I retort, before realizing my mistake. "Which you should under no circumstances do. To me, I mean." My face is redder than my faded hair and it only gets brighter as he chuckles.

"Darn. Lip to lip action with redheaded strangers is kinda my move, princess."

Continuing my streak of saying the completely wrong thing every single time I open my mouth, the words are out before I even realize them. "It's a dye job, if that's a turn off."
---
Blissa's life was not exactly... average. Of course, it had every normal aspects to it. High school drama, a boy-obsessed best friend, an obnoxiously perfect older sister... so cliché, in fact, it might have been funny. There's just one little kick...

Bliss wasn't exactly fully human.

Being a descendant from a mythical creature sounds nice (?) on the surface, but when you're so far down the line that you don't inherit any cool powers or special skills, it's a little less glitz and glam than one might think.

Well, there is that one thing, but it's not a particularly enjoyable trait.

Anyone who kisses Bliss dies.

Puts a litttttlllleeeee bit of a damper on senior prom, doesn't it?