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ebongawk · 2 days ago

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gimme kiss #41 😎

41. A kiss out of spite

"Chrissy will you–– Hey, man move it–– Will you please just talk to me? Chrissy! Babe, wait up!"

Chrissy was resolute in her marching through the party, red solo cup held above her head to avoid knocking into the swaying bodies. Avoiding the possibility of covering either herself or someone else in wet.

Though she'd swapped her vodka soda out for a water as soon as she saw Jason walk through the doors of the house party they were apparently both attending. She'd have to be sober if she wanted to remain resolute in this breakup.

Her defenses never failed to fall when she got tipsy, and she absolutely refused to take Jason back again. No way, no how, no sir. He was an asshole, and yeah, it had unfortunately taken her most of high school and half of college to realize it, but she couldn't exactly un-realize it now.

Of course, he would just happen to be at the one party she decided to attend this semester since the breakup. After vetting his calls for the past three months and being conveniently out of her apartment whenever he came around (she sent a silent thank you to Heather and Robin for playing up how busy she was as she hid in her bedroom while he was at the door), of course he was doing his absolute best to grab her attention here, of all places.

In public.

It would be mortifying if it wasn't so sad.

Dipping into the basement, Chrissy made her way through yet another throng of bodies before shoving herself into a small clearing. A deep inhale and an exasperated exhale ignited a chuckle from across the way, and Chrissy glanced up.

Oh.

What a pretty boy.

Blinking some of the haze out of her eyes, Chrissy watched the way he tilted his head to one side in curiosity as his eyes darted from her feet to her face. Then, making the trek again but far, far more slowly, Chrissy felt something heated curling dangerously in her stomach.

"All good, toots?" he asked, his voice just loud enough to carry over the din of noise. "Seems like you just ran a marathon. Not all that to find little ol' me, I assume?"

Those dark eyes were alight with some unnamed mischief Chrissy suddenly found herself desperate to identify. He was alone, sitting in the corner of the basement with a cigarette between his lips and a half-beaten lunchbox at his feet. Like some nefarious prince on a deserted island, there was a strange berth of space around him. People milling about but never daring to get too close.

But his question was like a welcoming hand stretching the distance. He'd lowered a moat over crocodile-infested waters and was waiting for her to cross.

She didn't hesitate his extension of refuge.

Plopping wearily down on the small stool he had cleared for her next to his armchair, Chrissy groaned as she rubbed her temples. Setting the red cup at her feet and taking yet another deep, slow breath.

"So, uh," the guy began, sitting forward until he could catch her eye before she let her head droop between her knees. "You come here often?"

Snorting, Chrissy rolled her eyes.

"What, dingy basements at parties?"

"Dingy basements in general." He sat back, crossing his arms over his chest and drawing Chrissy's attention to the stretch of his t-shirt beneath the leather jacket he wore. "Not to, y'know, toot my own horn, but they're kinda my domain, and I've never seen you around."

Once more looking her up and down and igniting that same detrimental heat in her gut, he winked at her. Chrissy almost swooned, cheeks growing warm under his obvious appreciation.

"I'd remember," he finished.

Clearing her throat, Chrissy crossed her legs and smoothed her skirt down.

"I'm not a frequent flyer, no," she admitted. "I don't often even come to these parties, to be honest, but––"

"Ah," the boy said, grinning. "Knew it. You looked like more of an upstairs gal. Never deigned these poor basement dwellers worthy of your presence."

That wasn't necessarily a lie, and Chrissy pursed her lips to quell her indignation. Basements had reputations at parties like this. It was where dark corners lit up with the haze of marijuana and various other substances.

"I don't hold myself to that high of a standard," she muttered instead, making the boy laugh.

"Well, color me lucky, I guess," he chuckled. "That your first foray into the dark might've put you in my path, I mean." Waggling his eyebrows, he let his gaze dip down, then back up. "Maybe having a pretty thing like you on my arm will drum up some business."

"Business?" Chrissy questioned just as her eyes, for the first time, glanced away from the boy and toward the stairs. Pulled by peripheral motion, Chrissy watched from her perch as a familiar head of blond hair came flouncing down each step. Half-hidden by the crowd, he hadn't yet seen her, but she had the vantage point to see him searching for her.

"Oh, nuggets," Chrissy whispered, glancing frantically around for a better hiding spot before Jason found her. The boy at her side seemed to clock her sudden spike of anxiety, his eyes following hers to the new arrival and narrowing.

"Hey, princess, you alright?" he asked, leaning toward her. "You, uh, need me to, y'know, take care of anything?"

His insinuation went entirely over her head as the panic set in, but a different idea somehow managed to infiltrate the static mess of her thoughts.

"Would you kiss me?" she asked, her voice pitched with desperation. The guy's eyes widened impossibly, drawing attention to the thick, unfair ring of eyelashes that framed them. Eyes darting toward Jason, who was facing the other direction, then back again, Chrissy punctuated her question with a little, "Please?"

"Fuck," the boy muttered, ashing his mostly-ignored cigarette in a nearby tray and tangling his fingers in her hair. "Yeah, uh, yeah, sure, whatever the lady doth request."

He tried to pull her in, but the distance between his chair and her stool was too great. Chrissy scrabbled to her knees, hitching a leg over the arm of the chair and half-landing on his lap. The boy chuckled, the sound mingling with Chrissy's giggle as he rested his free hand on her waist and drew her in properly.

"This alright?" he asked, his lips centimeters from hers. Making her heart drum violently in her chest. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the exact moment Jason noticed her, picking his way through the room with demands that people move out of his way.

"This is perfect," she responded, letting her eyes linger just long enough to grab Jason's attention before she was turning back and closing the gap between her lips and the boy's.

And she forgot, all at once, that she was trying to get back at her ex-boyfriend.

He was a flavor she was unaccustomed to, but suddenly craved. Cigarette, yeah, but it was more than that. It was a deep earthiness melded with something minty, like he'd been chewing gum, maybe. Chrissy moaned, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling herself closer. Sliding from her awkward perch on the arm of the chair and completely into his lap, Chrissy lost herself entirely in his kiss.

He felt so incredibly solid. The hand in her hair pulsed slightly, fingertips gently scrubbing against her scalp with every breathy sound she made. His other hand on her waist squeezed slightly, his palm warm and pleasant on the slight amount of skin she had showing between her top and her skirt. His thighs were sturdy beneath hers, muscle hidden beneath all that black denim.

Someone said her name, she was pretty sure. Yelled it, actually, making the boy growl as he pulled away from her dazed, bee-stung lips.

"Hey, man, fuck off," the boy demanded. "I'm trying to have some quality time with my girl."

Without the hush of the boy's kiss calming her mind, she could hear Jason behind her positively seething.

"Your girl?" he asked, his voice pitched with anger. "She's my girl, dick!"

Still, he dared not intervene. The guilt of his own actions outweighing his apparent claim over their dead relationship. Trying to resuscitate one half of a heart that had happily flatlined months ago.

Looking at her, then over her shoulder with a little smirk, the boy shrugged. Every gesture he made was so incredibly close, and Chrissy cataloged them all in her mind. Filing them away for later dissection.

"Really doesn't seem to be the case, my guy. Why don't you run along home to your little jock itch teammates and try to circle jerk the infection away, huh?"

Jason said something else, but Chrissy didn't hear it. Because the boy was pulling her back in, the heavy rings on his fingers tangling in her hair as he angled her head in just the right way to slip his tongue past her teeth. Chrissy moaned, her body going fully molten in his hands as he drew her in and drank her down, sip by sip by sip.

Far, far too soon, he was gently easing himself from her embrace again. Eyes on her for a long moment before darting away ever so briefly to scan the room.

"Pretty sure he's gone," the boy murmured, his lips nearly close enough that she could feel every syllable. Or maybe it was just the vibration of him, the way he'd somehow, miraculously, already tuned her boy to feel it. "Christ, toots. That fucker an ex of yours, I'm assuming?"

"Unfortunately," she sighed, forcing her fingers to untangle where they'd come to rest on the nape of his neck and slide down his chest. She gently smoothed out the lapels of his jacket. "For, like, months now, but he doesn't seem to take the hint."

"Oh, I think the hint was definitely taken this time, sweetness," the boy smiled, his thumb tucking beneath her chin for a brief moment. "And if not, I mean. I'm always open for a round two, y'know?"

"Yeah?" she asked. "You gonna be in every dingy basement of the party I happen to attend every four-to-six months?"

"Maybe," he shrugged, his eyes glinting with that same unnamed mischief. "Wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility. These assholes are paying for my college education, after all."

"And if, um," she began, her hands curling around his shoulders. "If I said I wanted round two... despite an audience." Dropping her head, Chrissy looked at him from under her lashes. Attempting to appear as coquettish as possible. "Or, maybe, regardless of an audience?"

The curl of his grin was echoed in her stomach, her insides twisting and morphing until they were the exact same shape as his teeth.

He was going to eat her alive, and the only thing she'd be able to say at the end was thank you.

"Yeah?" he asked. "You, uh, thinking now, or you thinking four-to-six months from now?"

"We can start with now," she shrugged, "and see where we're at in four-to-six months."

The boy threw his head back, letting out a long, loud cackle that had Chrissy clinging to him through her own laughter.

"Eddie, by the way," he said, sticking his hand in the scant space between their torsos. Sporting a wide, feral grin that made Chrissy forget all about her discomfort of the night.

Curling her fingers around his, Chrissy shook his hand.

"Chrissy," she introduced herself.

"Chrissy," he repeated, and she was fascinated by the way his tongue curled around her name. The way his lips parted on the second syllable, accentuating the second 's' in a way no one ever had. "Gorgeous."

"I bet you say that to all the girls that fall into your lap and beg you to kiss them to chase away their exes."

"Only the especially gorgeous ones," he shot back easily. "Hey, uh, not to be, like, too forward, but can I kiss you again?"

Her smile tasted sweet on her own lips. She wondered if Eddie would say it tasted the same.

"Not too forward," she soothed. "You can, um. You can kiss me anytime you want, Eddie."

"Shit, baby, don't threaten me with a good time."

kiss roulette!

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