The Fragile Ordinary. Samantha YoungЧитать онлайн книгу.
of miscreants.
And Tobias King.
Tobias had his arm around a girl I didn’t recognize, a beer bottle dangling from his hand. He stared at me, frowning.
“Ye awright, Comet?” Stevie called. Alana Miller, a scary, would probably take my head off if I looked at her the wrong way, girl in the year below me had her arms around his waist.
I managed a nod at Stevie and then threw a reluctant glance at Tobias, who had dropped his arm from the unknown girl and was staring at me intently. Flushing harder, I turned from them and started to walk down the esplanade.
“What the fuck is she wearing?” I heard a girl cackle, and there was more laughter.
I hunched into myself and picked up speed.
That speed turned to full-out running once I knew I was out of sight, and I didn’t stop until I was at my front door. It was only once I was inside my bedroom that I managed to relax somewhat.
And then I slumped onto my bed and fought the urge to cry as I wiped at my mouth and shuddered.
That was kissing? That horrible, wet, slug-like act was kissing?
Every time I got to a scene in the book where the hero and heroine finally kissed, it made me flush hot in a good way, and my chest filled with this delight, this giddiness that was hard to describe.
I had yet to read a book where the heroine got her face munched on!
“Ugh.” I shuddered again.
Of course my first kiss would suck. Literally. I don’t know why I ever expected anything else. And this was exactly the reason I should have stayed home tonight—so my illusions wouldn’t be shattered by a presumptuous nineteen-year-old boy who had not received permission to put his mouth anywhere near mine!
I yanked off my clothes, only slowing to take care with my expensive boots. Just as I was slipping into my pajamas, my phone made a little jingle of a noise, alerting me to a text.
Vicki : WRU@
I sighed and quickly replied. I went home. Tired. I’ll put a key under the mat for you. xx.
Two seconds later it pinged: RUOK xx.
Yeah xx
Although I didn’t like the idea of putting the key under the mat, there was really no other way for my friends to get in the house other than for me to stay awake all night. And I didn’t want to. I wanted to sleep so I could forget the fact that my mouth had just been attacked.
On that note I flossed and brushed my teeth. Thoroughly. And then I rinsed it multiple times with mouthwash. Staring into the mirror, I got a flashback of the feeling of Ethan’s kiss and shuddered again. “Ugh!” I made a face at myself.
Tomorrow I was going to do a reread of my favorite romance just to get this awful real-life imagery out of my head.
* * *
I awoke with a start, my heart in my throat, the blood whooshing in my ears.
“It’s just me, babe,” Vicki’s voice whispered in the dark, but it sounded thick and cracked.
“Vicki?”
Down the hall I heard water running from a tap while Vicki’s silhouette solidified out of shadow as my eyes adjusted to the dark.
She pushed the covers back and climbed into the bed. The denim of her jeans rubbed against the light fabric of my pajama bottoms, the floral perfume she wore mixed with the scent of beer enveloped me, and the soft, tight curls of her hair tickled my chin as she wrapped her arms around my waist and pressed her face to my collarbone.
I felt her body shake.
I felt something wet drip onto my skin.
Sleep deserted me at the realization that my best friend, who rarely cried, was sobbing quietly against me.
Concern kicked my heart into speed and something ugly twisted in my gut as I closed my arms around her and held her tight. “Vicki?” I was afraid. Afraid to ask what happened, all manner of dark suspicions lurking in my mind.
She held on tighter but didn’t say anything, didn’t relieve me of my fears.
The flush of the toilet brought my thoughts back to Steph as I heard the bathroom door open and her stumbling steps down the hall. My bedroom door swung open and shut, and Steph’s dark figure rounded the bed and got in at the other side of me.
Not even a minute later her drunken snores filled the room.
“Vicki...what happened?” I dared to ask.
I wasn’t sure she’d answer.
But then...
“Jordan,” she whispered tearfully. “He wanted to have sex. I said I didn’t want to, and then he said I was too young for him and...he went off with some girl from his class.”
Dipshit.
Arsehole.
Wanker!
I tightened my grip on my friend. “I’m sorry he did that.”
She cried a little harder, and I tried to soothe and hush her. After a while I felt her body relax. I was sad for her. I hated that a boy had treated her so poorly when he was lucky Vicki Brown had even noticed he existed.
Yet, there was a part of me that wasn’t surprised.
In fact, it just drove home to me why my book boyfriends were a million times better than the real thing. Tonight I’d gone to a party for someone else because I’d made a promise to try harder. However, years ago I’d made a promise to myself, and that promise was painted above my headboard.
To thine own self be true.
Be true to yourself.
Standing in the corner of a party, talking to a boy who bored me and pretending that he didn’t, allowing him close enough to violate my lips... I hadn’t wanted to do any of those things. I hadn’t wanted to go to the party in the first place! And look where it got me.
Worst night in a long time.
From now on, I did what I wanted to do.
I would remain true to myself.
Stay at home reading a lot of books and writing my poetry.
Even if everyone, including my best friends, thought it made me the biggest antisocial weirdo in Porty.
THE FRAGILE ORDINARYSAMANTHA YOUNG
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