KISS A STRANGER. KISS a fucking stranger.

       Why did the thought of that make every nerve in my body thrum, every muscle in my back stiffen? It was stupid. It was beyond stupid. And―

       I really didn't want Skylar to kiss Monroe.

       I knew I should say something, but in gym class on Tuesday morning, it was all Skylar could talk about. Kissing Monroe―and Homecoming.

       "Talia? What dress are you going to wear?"

       The problem with being infuriated for absolutely no reason was that I wanted to bite Skylar's head off. "I'm not going."

       "What? We've been to every single dance since ninth grade! You can't just break our streak now."

       "I don't feel like it," I growled.

       "It's this Friday, you know." Skylar raised a patient, pink-tinted eyebrow at me. "You are absolutely not backing out."

       I was being a bitch, and I knew it. Besides, it wasn't Skylar's fault that I was questioning my sexuality. It was Monroe's.

      Just like that, I had a new place to direct my anger.

      Monroe fucking Kingston.

      "Alright, sorry," I said. "I'll come, it's just―I really don't have anything to wear. Nothing fits anymore."

      Skylar gave me a once-over. "Talia, as your best friend, I'm just going to tell you: it's your boobs."

      "What?"

      "She's right, Tal!" Cody said, jogging over. "You went from an A cup to a C cup over the summer."

      Skylar was already nodding before she rounded on Cody, who was dressed in fire-painted black jeans and a flannel. "Cody? What the fuck are you doing outside? You don't even have gym."

       Cody tossed his black hair, sapphire eyes bright under the piercing grey sky. "I'm ditching first period. I feel lonely―all of you have gym except for me."

       "Wait! Let's go back to the part where you said I have C cup boobs."

       "Oh, Talia," said Cody, sighing. "Everybody has noticed it. You're just oblivious."

       "But―"

       "Especially Aaron," Skylar added. 

       Aaron, across the field, was wrestling―shirtless―with one of his teammates. 

       Skylar let out a wolf whistle, capturing the attention of everyone in the fifty-yard field. The boys began to laugh, and some of the girls running ahead snickered, but―

       Coach Roberts yelled, "Decker! Tori! And―Beckham? What the hell are you doing out here?"

       "Giving the girls company," Cody said with a wink. "Do you need some too, sir?"

       "Cody, you can't flirt with everything that moves," hissed a girl nearby, Giselle Something. "And please, for the love of God, not our gym teacher too."

       Cody ignored that, and even from a distance, I could see the coach turning almost as vibrant a shade as his neon orange tracksuit.

       "Go seduce him," I said. "Maybe he'll give you a free pass."

       Cody kissed my cheek and trotted off. "Maybe I'll try for more than a free pass . . ."

       He was gone.

       My eyes slid to Skylar, who was biting back a smile. Just like that, we erupted.

       "I mean, Coach Roberts isn't bad-looking," Skylar tried.

       "I guess under that neon orange tracksuit, he's kind of . . . handsome?"

        "If you can get over the fact that he looks like Vector from Despicable Me."

        "And the fact that he's, like, forty-five and living in his mom's basement . . ."

        "Hey! Middle-aged men have that rugged look going for them. I wouldn't mind a sugar daddy."

        "Sure, but then you'd also have to deal with the fact that he's a man."

        Skylar's eyebrows lifted higher, but I didn't realize what that expression was for until I thought about what I had said.

        Too late to take it back.

        I shrugged, attempting to play that off. "I'm craving frozen yogurt. And now that Coach Roberts is occupied . . ."

        Skylar's eyes lit up, and she leaned over to plant a kiss on my mouth. "Talia, how often do I tell you you're a genius?"

        "Not enough." 

        PINK GRASSHOPPER HAD BEEN  our favourite frozen yogurt shop since ninth grade.

        Now, arms laced together, I skipped a little over the sidewalk. The sky swirled above us, glisteningly bright.

        "Sky, how'd you know you weren't straight?"

        The question came out nowhere. I didn't even realize it had left my lips until Skylar turned.

         Her smile was soft now, no hint of teasing. "Because―women."

         I thought about it. Every detail I had noticed about pretty girls, from their red hair to their brown eyes to their long legs. And Monroe. Monroe.

         Wasn't all that normal, though?

         "Think about this," Skylar said. "Picture kissing a girl."

         My heartbeat rocketed.

         "And then think about dating one. Getting to hold her hand. Touch her jaw, trace her wrist, lay your head on her chest. How do you feel?"

         My mouth opened. Closed.

         "Could you imagine doing that for the rest of your life? Would you be happy marrying a girl?" Skylar squeezed my fingers. "Think about that, alright, Talia?"

         I nodded slowly, looking ahead. Pink Grasshopper loomed right around the street. From the corner of my eye, I knew Skylar was looking at me.

        A hint of her teasing returned. "And . . . while you figure your shit out, I promise I won't tell anyone."

       "Well, no shit."

       "Hey, that's supposed to be reassuring!"

       "Sure, if you weren't my best friend of five years. And I didn't know about your secret Jacob Black obsession." 

      "I swore you to secrecy!"

      "Or your Pokémon phase."

       "Everyone had a Pokémon phase."

       "Not in grade nine they didn't."

       "I was trying to impress Lila Bard, okay?"

       "And I'm sure that mission was accomplished when you showed her your four-hundred-something Pikachu cards."

        Skylar's pink hair eddied around her face. For a second, she looked almost like a painting with her big doe eyes. "Talia, that just shows how ignorant you are. They weren't all Pikachu cards. Squirtle was definitely cuter."

      "PRACTICE LATER?" OLIVIA ASKED. "I made a new song, and I was thinking of an album―"

      My mind flashed back to Jordana.

      I shook the thought away and smiled at Olivia. "Of course. I'm looking forward to it."

      My books clutched tight in my hand, turning with my eyes still on Olivia, I didn't see it until it was too late.

      The bell rang, and I crashed into Monroe.

      Shit. Fourth period. 

      Math was my last class of the day, and―

      And I was touching the soft, warm leather of Monroe's jacket. We had tumbled over together in the crowded hallway―and I was on top.

       Beneath me, Monroe's smile turned wicked.

       I had only been this close to her once, and I―hadn't noticed her eyes. I'd thought they were green, but they glimmered like a forest coated in liquid sunlight, warm and honey-tinted. Flecks of gold and hazel interlaced that startling emerald, and for a moment, I was lost.

       Then someone said, "Talia?"

       Aaron. Oh, shit. Aaron.

       "Yeah," I said breathlessly, my voice small. Too small. I forced out, "Yeah, I'm―just―"

       I couldn't look up. Couldn't look away.

       And Monroe watched me as if she knew.

       As if she could read my mind.

       Fuck.

       "Do you need help?" Aaron asked, as the rest of the students slipped down the corridor. I felt his presence, the strong figure that was Aaron, my Aaron, my best friend, but―

       "I've got her," Monroe said.

       I might have exploded into a thousand golden fireflies.

       Monroe's arms braced mine, but instead of pushing me up, she flipped me over.

       And suddenly, she was on top of me.

       "My books―I have to―get to class―" But math had never seemed less important than when Monroe fucking Kingston was leaning over me, her black hair framing her sharp face.

       Why . . . was there a sudden pulse between my legs?

       Monroe ran the pink peak of her tongue over her bottom lip. As though she could imagine tasting me.

       I died. Went to hell. Came back. Died again.

       I had never wanted to be kissed so badly. To feel her lips intertwining with mine, soft and hot and―

       "I'm straight!" I blurted out.

       It was just me, Monroe―and Aaron.

       Monroe pulled back slightly. Lifting an eyebrow. But before she could speak, Aaron cleared his throat and said, "Of course you are, Talia. But why are you―?"

        Somehow, for the first time, I managed to tear my eyes away from Monroe.

        Aaron stood at a distance, as though he'd be ready to jump if Monroe started murdering me. 

        Not that I'd have minded that. If she murdered me. 

        I was just about dead already.

        "Um." I swallowed. Hard. "Math." Right. Math.

         Fuck, I was late.

         And I remembered my earlier decision. Why was I just laying here, tongue twisted, like some lovesick ninth grader? I was furious with Monroe fucking Kingston.

       At the moment, I couldn't exactly remember why, but I clenched that anger tight in my fists. Letting it run like liquid fire through my veins.

      I shoved Monroe off me―smooth skin, hard chest, pull her in and kiss her, kiss her, kiss her―and yanked myself to my feet. 

      "Talia, are you alright?" Aaron asked, as I bent down to gather my math books.

       Monroe knelt down, too. 

       "I don't need your help," I said coldly.

        Her hand brushed against mine. Electricity coursed through my fingertips.

       "I think you want it," she said, a smirk tugging at her mouth.

        "I don't want anything from you."

        Her eyes flickered. I couldn't read the emotion in her eyes. I didn't want to.

        "Talia?" 

         Aaron. Right.

         "I'll walk you to class, okay?" His eyes lingered on Monroe as though she was a rabid dog. Like she might leap and bite.

         "I'll see you at home, golden child," Monroe said.

         And I was suddenly reminded of the fact that they were cousins.

         "Stay away from her," Aaron said in a low voice, once we were outside my math classroom. "She's . . ."

        Hot. Sexy. Making me question my sexuality?

        "Unsafe," he said finally. "She got caught up in bad stuff two years ago."

        Against my will, I was curious. "Drugs?"

        He shook his head. "No, it―it's just better. If you keep her at a distance."

        I hadn't known it then, but that would be impossible.

        And then I wondered if this had anything to do with what I had seen that day downtown. Her knuckles bruised, cut and bloody. Beating a man twice her height in the parking lot.

        The way she had smiled at me in the rain.

        You look like the most dangerous thing around, I had said.

        I wondered, now, just how right I had been.

        Except my new math teacher, who looked eerily like King Joffrey, was suddenly standing in the window of the door.

        He knocked with one white fist.

        "Talia Decker. Would you be ever so kind as to actually join our class?"

        Aaron laughed silently as he backed down the corridor, and I gave him the middle finger before I opened the door to hell.

       I'M STRAIGHT. I HAD ACTUALLY  said that. I had opened my mouth and said, I'm straight!  Those words had come from my voice. I had imagined kissing her, and I had said, I'm straight.

        Was I in denial? Probably.

        But as the bell rang, and I shielded my eyes against the sun, walking with Cody to the bus stop, I still couldn't believe it.

         I'm straight. 

         I had said that. In front of her. The hottest girl in school. Who had been leaning over me.

         Why had I done that? Why?

         Maybe I was straight. Maybe that was all this was. Or maybe . . . maybe I needed to experiment.

         "Talia, I need your honest opinion."

         I blinked away the stabbing sunlight. "What's up, Cody?"

       "Do you think I have a shot? Of getting into art school?" There was something almost vulnerable in Cody's tone. "Just tell me honestly."

       "For photography?" I remembered Cody's collection.

       "Yeah, I was thinking of applying . . . you know, all the stupid university fairs got me thinking, and . . . if I suck―"

         "You don't," I said suddenly. "You don't suck."

         A glimmer of mischief. "I sure do."

         "Oh, God, Cody," I groaned. "But seriously, yes. I do think you have a shot of getting in. I've seen your pictures and I swear it's like you're a professional."

        Relief dampened Cody's voice. "Thank God. And on that note . . . how do you feel about a photoshoot?"

        I froze. I had never liked getting my picture taken. "A photoshoot," I mumbled.

        "Not now, but in January. On the train tracks, when it's snowing . . . come on. You know it's not a choice."

        I did know. It wasn't like I could say no. And if this meant a lot to Cody, then fuck it.

        "Whatever," I said, cracking a grin.

        Cody bumped me with his shoulder, and I thought about him as a photographer in college. His tall, slender figure, clicking a camera in a snowy landscape. Probably wearing painted jeans, maybe with a dragon on the back pocket, a coffee not far behind. He'd love his life.

        The image brought a smile to my lips.

        Until I saw Monroe. And Skylar.

>>>

Yeah, this is definitely going to go well.

From the moon and back,
Sarai