Home > Kissing Lessons(4)

Kissing Lessons(4)
Author: Sophie Jordan

Washing her hands with expensive-looking hand wash that smelled of cucumber and mint, she assessed herself in the mirror of the bathroom she had just barricaded herself in. Staring at her reflection, she ignored the knocking at the door and instead propped her hands on the edge of the sink. “What are you doing here?” she asked her reflection, as though the person looking back at her was someone else. Someone who could give her an explanation.

So far she wasn’t having a good time, and that had been the goal.

She didn’t owe Dorian anything. She didn’t owe any guy anything. She put herself first because if she didn’t, no one else would. She’d learned that lesson when most kids had been learning to ride a bike.

No guy took priority in her life. She’d watched her mother get lost down that rabbit hole ever since she could remember, chasing after men and their false promises only to end up tossed aside at the end, a pile of broken pieces that Hayden had to gather up and patch back together. Enough.

Turning away from the mirror, she exited the bathroom. As she moved down the hall, a guy rounded the corner and his eyes lit up when he saw her. He walked an uneven line toward her, indicating he’d had more than a few drinks. “Heyyy there.” He stopped in front of her, his shoulder falling against the wall. He wagged a finger at her. “I know you.”

“Yeah?” She didn’t know him.

“You’re the hummer queen.”

She released a gust of breath and crossed her arms over her chest. She knew people called her that. Guys. Girls. Everyone. Ever since eighth grade, when the rumors started about her giving some guy a BJ in the back of the school bus, it had been uttered indiscreetly behind her back and even directly to her face.

“That so?”

“Yeah.” His gaze dropped, rolling down her body. “How about you show me your skills, baby?”

Ugh. Gross.

“How about I show you what else I’m good at?” She didn’t even care that her agreement with him was tacit—that she was the “hummer queen.” It just spoke to how little she cared what people thought about her. She knew rumors could destroy lives. If one let them. If one cared. Lucky for her, the opinions of others never mattered to her. Why should she care what people she didn’t care about thought?

He jerked his chin in invitation, licking his lips obscenely, his gaze fixating on her chest. “Yeah. Show me. What else you good at, baby?”

“Castration.”

His gaze shot back to hers. His swagger deflated as the single word sank in.

Without another glance, she walked into the party, searching for the nearest exit, ready to bail. There had to be a back door out of this place. Away from this party with its beautiful, carefree . . . and increasingly drunk people.

She found a way out through a set of French doors leading onto a patio with a burbling fountain. A fountain. Actual people lived like this. Unbelievable. It really was astonishing to think that she went to school with people who had fountains in their backyard. Crazy stuff. In her neighborhood, there were no fancy lawn fountains. She couldn’t even keep someone from stealing the rickety lawn chair off the tiny slab of concrete that served as her front porch.

Hayden marched past the fountain, searching for a way out, but then stopped and backed up a few steps.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she squared off in front of it and grudgingly admired it, wondering if it was one of those wishing fountains. It seemed unlucky to walk past a fountain without tossing a coin in it, just in case. She didn’t need bad luck in life. She’d been born under an unlucky star. Her mother told her that plenty of times. Apologized for it, in fact—as though that were to blame for her lot in life. As though her mother might not bear any responsibility.

Hayden didn’t have money to toss away, but she didn’t need to risk bad luck either. Or rather . . . worse luck. You know, in case her mom was right and her stars really were that unlucky.

She dug around in her pocket. She’d bought a burrito for two dollars and fifty cents from the corner store for dinner, but she must have left the change in her car. She checked her wrist wallet. No change there either. Not so surprising. Money was always tight. A coveted thing. People said money couldn’t buy happiness, but that was usually people who had plenty of it. Or at least enough.

Not people like her.

Not people who knew what it felt like to go to bed without dinner.

As soon as Hayden had turned fourteen, she got a job. She’d been working ever since.

She didn’t do it so she could have extra money to shop for shoes at the mall. She did it for food, gas, car insurance, groceries. Last month she actually took herself to the dentist. If she wanted tampons or toothpaste, she had to buy them herself.

Sometimes Mom would surprise her and bring home groceries, but Hayden knew better than to rely on her for those things. Whoever said the best things in life were free never had to scrape off the moldy edges on bread just so they could have something to eat.

Hayden lingered in front of the fountain. She never counted herself as superstitious. That was her mother—reading her horoscope every day, driving into a ditch to avoid a black cat, and throwing spilled salt over her shoulder. Still, in some secret, buried part of her, Hayden hated to pass up the opportunity to improve her fortune.

A sound caught her attention, breaking the spell. The scratch of something over loose gravel. Hayden shifted on her feet, looked around, and then spotted a shoe peeking out from the other side of the fountain.

She inched around, following the shoe up to its owner—a girl sitting on the ground with her back propped against the stone base of the fountain. Her wide Bambi-brown eyes stared straight ahead into the night. She looked young, but she probably wasn’t much younger than Hayden. Then again, Hayden thought every girl in high school looked young. Because Hayden felt so very old. She’d lived too much, seen too much. Hayden was eighteen, but she didn’t feel young.

The girl’s lips were moving, but her words were an inaudible whisper.

“Hey there,” Hayden greeted. “You got a penny?”

Bambi stopped her muttering and blinked up at Hayden like an owl, evidently seeing her for the first time. “A penny?”

“Yeah.” She wasn’t above bumming a penny off someone. Not if there was even a remote chance it could improve her fate.

After a second of hesitation the girl searched through the small handbag at her side. “Here you go.” She extended a coin to Hayden.

Hayden accepted it with a nod of thanks and stepped back several feet. Hayden could feel the girl’s eyes watching her.

Taking a bracing breath, she made her wish. She kept it simple. General. Nothing too specific. No sense being greedy. For my life to suck a little less.

Not that wishes ever came true. She knew that.

When she was young she used to wish for big things. She didn’t waste wishes on small things like a winter coat or art supplies, no matter how much she might want them. She wished for specific things like for Mom to stop drinking and get a good job that she wouldn’t lose five minutes later. Things like a new house. Or for her father to suddenly materialize and be like one of those TV dads. The last one was absurd, she knew. The guy had bailed before she was even born. No way was he suddenly going to stroll back into her life and be a responsible father now.

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