Page 67 of Kiss Collector
Quinton steps down and slides an arm around both of us. “Y’all can stay here, you know.”
“There you go.” I point to Quinton and smile big at Lin. “Problem solved.”
She slides away from him and crosses her arms. “That’s fucked-up, Zae.”
I move into her face, feeling the sudden whoosh of a buzz. “Don’t talk to me about fucked-up.”
Again, guilt flashes across her face. “I’m sorry!” she says through gritted teeth. She moves closer, whispering so only I can hear. “Dean didn’t write those poems, Zae. He didn’t even know they were about you.” She sounds almost apologetic, but my whole body tenses with horror.
“Youaskedhim? You told him I thought it was him?”
She pushes her hair behind her ears and turns her eyes down, as if she’s realizing how much of an idiot that makes me look. The sting of betrayal swirls with the liquor in my belly, burning like acid, making me dizzy.
She shakes her head. “No. I mean—”
I move past her and the other people watching to pour myself another cup. I hear Lin let out a growl of frustration as she stomps away. Several people laugh, enjoying the drama. I cannot drink fast enough. I’ve only really been drunk once before, and I remember how numbing it was when it hit me. I need that again. I cannot believe they talked with Dean about the poems. It’s beyond humiliating. The demoralizing feeling flooding my system is the same as I felt the night Wylie cheated.
Sierra and Meeka sidle up, their lips glossy and bright with smiles. Oh, no.
“So,” says Sierra as I drink. “You and Joel?”
She takes a sip and eyes me over the rim, but I can see the calculation in her gaze.
“No,” I tell her. “Just friends. Why? Do you still love him?”
Her nostrils flare and her eyes go wide. The laugh she emits is caustic. “I never loved him.God.”
Meeka laughs at that notion and studies me. “Someone said y’all kissed outside.”
“No, we didn’t.” What is wrong with people and their big, stupid mouths?
“But you’re into him,” Sierra teases. “This makes two parties that you’ve been spotted at together.”
“Talking. As friends.” The words are sour on my tongue. I blame the alcohol, not the fact that the feel of Joel’s lips still lingers.
“All right,” Sierra says. “If you’re not into him, prove it. Kiss someone else.”
I spin around to see who I can prove my innocence with, and the room spins with me. I reach for the counter, and Meeka and Sierra laugh.
“Whoa, girl,” Meeka says. I nearly smile, despite how annoyed I am, because the alcohol is finally hitting me. And not a moment too soon.
My attention goes straight to the loudest voice and biggest smile in the room.
Quinton. Star point guard. Buzz supplier.
I go right up to him, pressing my body to his and putting a hand to his cheek. His smile falls as he peers down at me, frozen. To be honest, half the reason I’m all pressed against him is because I suddenly feel unbalanced, my equilibrium off. I try to blink away the memory of just how much alcohol he dumped in that punch.
“Can I help you?” he says in a low voice.
“Kiss me?”
His full, tender lips come straight down onto mine, and hiskiss is slow and sultry. The entire kitchen raises an “OHHH!”
Someone yanks me from behind by the belt loop. Meeka. She puts an arm around me, almost protectively, and says to Quinton, “I don’t think so.” The look she gives him is filled with warning, and he grins as he holds his palms up.
Meeka turns me away from him and the room goes splotchy. Voices mute and warp. Figures are fuzzy and shadowy. I rub my eyes.
“Now look what you’ve done,” Sierra says. She runs her thumbs roughly under my eyes to get off the mascara.
