Page 28 of Stuck-Up Big Shot
The words themselves are shocking. The image conjured in my head is incomprehensible. I shake my head, narrowing my eyes, and scrunching my face in confusion.
“I don’t get it. Blow them like you blow out birthday candles?”
Mel rolls her eyes at my apparent stupidity and pushes back from the table, heading over to the counter to grab two bananas hanging from the fruit rack.
I watch her as she peels back the layers on one before handing it over to me, which I accept with uncertainty. Then she peels the other and stands in front of me to demonstrate.
“Okay, pretend this is a boy’s penis.” I nod dutifully at this description, glancing between the bananas in our hands before returning my gaze to Mel.
“This is what you do.”
As I watch her desecrate the fruit with her mouth and tongue, I wonder to myself why in the world any girl would do this? If this is what sex is supposed to be like, I will never do it.
Aren’t boy’s private parts dirty and gross? I mean, they hold them when they pee and play with them like they’re Lightsabers. This, I know for a fact, after seeing Teddy and Cooper having a sword fight with their wieners when I walked by the boy’s bathroom at theYin the third grade. And their penises looked nothing like this banana in my hand.
The banana slides between Mel’s lips, gliding in and out, her spittle making the fruit go soft and mushy. But she continues until at the very end, before biting off the tip of the banana and chewing it with a satisfied grin.
“There. Now it’s your turn.”
How in the world did I get myself into this? It’s one thing to watch my friend demonstrate the proper techniques of blowing a banana, but for me to do it too? Geesh, this is getting more and more awkward.
Mel takes my hesitation as defiance and puts one hand on her hip and lets out a haughty huff of irritation.
“Sutton, if you don’t learn now, you’ll screw it up the first time you’re with a boy. You don’t want him to tell everyone what a baby you are, do you?”
This is a rhetorical question with a hypothetical boy because I am never planning on doing something like this with anyone. Ever. You can count on that.
I inhale through my nose and release the breath through my mouth, opening it just wide enough to nudge the banana inside, wrapping my lips around the soft but firm substance and sucking awkwardly.
The noise I make has Mel cracking up hysterically, so I add more for show. I moan lewdly, swiping my tongue out and around the fruit, closing my eyes and swirling my hips like I’m playing with a Hula Hoop.
But then out of my peripheral vision, I see Miles standing at the archway into the kitchen, his expression holding absolutely no humor or laughter like his sister’s.
With my lips still seated firmly over the banana, my eyes dart to his, where I see a tempest of icy blue ocean swirling in his gaze. His lips part ever-so-slightly before he presses them together and clenches his jaw tight. His nostrils flare, and his heated gaze penetrates through every particle of my body.
The hold I have wrapped around the banana loosens, and it falls to the ground with a smooshie thud, while I stand still in awkward silence. Miles’s face contorts, his features sharp and in warning, as he glances between Mel and me.
His voice is a bark. Tight and angry. “What the fuck are you two doing in here?”
With no warning, he strides in with purposeful steps, bending down to sweep my banana off the ground and then yanking Mel’s out of her hand. She is laughing uncontrollably, seemingly giving no shits at being caught doing something so dirty.
“Just go away, Miles. We’re only practicing for when the time comes.”
Miles disposes of the uneaten fruit in the garbage bin with a curse before spinning back around to glare at us. Mainly at his sister, but with darting glances at me, to ensure I know I’m included in his big brother speech. He steps in close, practically overtaking us with his tall, lean body that smells like fresh clean boy and a dusting of body spray.
I gulp and my body wars with the mixed signals rushing through my bloodstream like a current of electricity. There are zings of elated excitement in places I’ve only been vaguely aware of down “there,” and then there is the crushing pain as if I’ve been slapped across the cheek, caused by the level of disgust in his tone and harsh words.
“This is not what good girls should do.” His voice shakes with vehemence. “What the hell is wrong with you, Mel? Do you want to be known as the town slut?”
Panic washes through me now, a wretched horrifying terror shooting through my veins begging for this to be over, or better yet, never have happened. Wishing Miles never would’ve walked in on this scene.
No, no, no.This wasn’t even my idea. I’m a good girl, not a slut. Neither of us is like that.Please, I beg of Miles silently. Don’t believe this is who we are. We’re just kids, playing and pretending we’re adults.
The sound of Mel’s defensive, mocking laughter has me nearly jerking away from her. Her face has turned to stone, defiant, and refusing to be reprimanded like this. Refusing to accept the shame her brother pours over us like a waterfall of hypocrisy.
She jabs an angry finger into Miles’s T-shirt covered chest. “Don’t you dare say that to us. You’re the one who was down in the basement last weekend getting lord knows what STD’s from that little skank, Jessie. Don’t be so damned two-faced, Miles.”
Her comment seems to hit a nerve, and Miles steps back as if he’s been attacked by a snake, his stern features softening until his whole demeanor changes. Melodie, for her part, stands her ground, crossing her arms over her chest defiantly.
