Page 9 of Death is My BFF

“It’s dead. Listen, I get what you’re saying but that mentality won’t get you laid.”

“Marcy!”

“Hey, I’m being honest. You’re great with school, and I’m great with guys. Now, do you want to make out with a hot guy tonight or what?” When I didn’t reply she repeated, “Or what, girl?”

The embarrassment of not having been kissed weighed on me.

I know, melodramatic, sue me. Losing my V card to a stranger or a boy I barely knew was totally out of the question. An innocent kiss, however, that was achievable, even though I’d always wanted to make sure it was right for me. At this point, I wanted to get it over with.

Marcy was right. Men did find me intimidating and deep down, that made me insecure.

This was my senior year, damn it. I could push my pride and morals aside for one night.

“Fine, you win.”

Hissing jokingly at Marcy, I stomped off into the bathroom with the dress—a sexy number with a 1950s edge to it. The bodice was lacy, the waist pinched close to my ribs, and the skirt was short and fanned out without being too puffy like a prom dress. If I bent over, my underwear would show. Not that I was going to be doing any bending over. The heels Marcy selected were modest, leather, and only two inches off the ground, just the way I liked them.

Securing my witch hat, I looked up at myself in the mirror and sighed.

It was official. Halloween had shifted from an innocent contest of who could collect the most candy in their pillowcase by midnight to who could wear the sexiest, skimpiest costume.

And I was winning.

Marcy cupped her hands over her mouth to hype me up. “Okay, legs for days! Aren’t you a snack and a half? You look hot!”

“You think so? How does my butt look?” I shook myself. “Never mind. Tonight, I leave my first kiss to fate. If it happens, it happens.

Don’t try and hook me up, and don’t try getting me drunk because I’m driving home. Last week’s incident proved you can’t be trusted.

I still can’t believe you drove wasted to get a greasy cheeseburger at three in the morning.”

“It was one time!”

“One time is all it takes. It’s not the first time you’ve done something stupid because of Tommy.” As soon as it came tumbling out, I regretted it. Pain pooled in Marcy’s eyes at the mention of her ex-boyfriend, Thomas Gregory. Who, by the way, was the host of the party we were attending. With his deep-blue eyes, blond hair, swimmer’s body, and charismatic personality, the whole school swooned over him. As for me, he had a permanent spot reserved at the top of my shit list.

“I didn’t mean to—” I started.

“Yes, you did,” Marcy snapped and stormed out of my room.

She was silent the entire car ride over. I pulled up quite a few houses behind the Gregory mansion, shocked by the number of cars already here. I gave the parking brake of my old car a ridiculous heave upward to click it into place and turned to face Marcy.

“Listen, I’m sorry. I know you’re upset about how it ended with Thomas. I would be too. But showing up at one of his bangers, again, determined to make him jealous . . . this isn’t going to make things better.” I let out a frustrated sigh, knowing I was not getting through to her. Lately, nothing got through to Marcy about him. “Thomas is a jerk, all he cares about is himself and his rep at school.”

“I am moving on, Faith,” Marcy said. Funny, she never seemed to believe herself. “I know this sounds stupid, but I just need to show him I’m moving on. He has to see how much better I’m doing without him.”

“That’s not healthy, and you know it,” I said. “You’re trying to win him over again through jealousy.” Her reddening face meant she was about to flip on me. It was the reality check she needed. Marcy got her heart broken by Thomas, and I was sick and tired of her finding ways to win him back. “Believe in the amazing catch that you are and forget him. If you keep trying to get his attention by sleeping with his friends, you’re never going to heal.”

She glared out her passenger window.

I wrung my hands on the steering wheel. “Look at all these cars.

It’s going to be insane in there. Why don’t we get some pizza and have a Friday movie night like old times? We haven’t had one of those in a while. Who needs to grind against sweaty guys with beer breath when we can watchBuffyand eat junk food until we fall into a stupor?”

“Sleeping with his friends?” She turned to me, unleashing her anger as it finally boiled over. “Who the hell would have toldyouthat?”

Her choice of words stung, as if I had nobody else but her as a friend. Which was true. Marcy was my only friend. Unless my cat counted.

“You and Tyler. I overheard someone in the school bathroom,”

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