“I hear you nearly fucked Parrish again yesterday,” Lumen blurts, eyes glittering as she leans forward. Her girlfriends—there are too many, and they’re like a revolving door anyway, coming and going so I don’t know their names—titter and gossip behind their hands.
With a groan, I sink down in one of the theater chairs and let my head fall back, eyes closed. As soon as I walked into the building today, everyone was staring at me like it was my first day all over again. I got a lot of high fives though, and some serious nods, acknowledgements of my newfound clout. How this happened, I’m not sure. I guess telling a bunch of people to fuck off on a live feed, and then demanding a famous novelist eat a bag of dicks will do that to a person.
“Is that what I said when I texted you?” I grumble, wishing she’d keep this to herself. Unfortunately, everything of interest that happens is something Lumen believes should be shared with the world. “I said that Chasm walked in on Parrish and me making out.”
“Should I be jealous?” Lumen asks, standing up and then moving over to sit on my lap. For the life of me I can’t decide if she actually has a crush on me or is just using me. She throws her arms around my neck and leans in close. “Parrish doesn’t stand a chance if I turn my full charm on.”
“Is that so?” a voice asks from behind me, and I let out an embarrassing shriek. Lumen smirks at the newcomer; clearly she could see him come in the theater through the back door.
“Hello Parrish,” she drawls, leaning close and nuzzling her cheek against mine. “Did you come to see what my girlfriend and I were up to?”
“Doesn’t daddy hate lesbians?” he asks, but Lumen just laughs.
“The whole world hates lesbians—they’re the only group on the planet that doesn’t need, want, or care about dick. Unfortunately for me, I’m bisexual. If I could choose my sexuality, I guarantee you that I’d have picked ‘lesbian’. Besides, what my dad doesn’t know, doesn’t hurt him.” She presses a sweet-smelling kiss to my cheek before standing up.
What Parrish is doing in the theater today is beyond me. Did he come looking for me?
I turn around to glance at him, but he may as well be in a lecture hall listening to the mating habits of banana slugs. That’s how bored he is right now.
“Hey, have you heard that song by Ashnikko? “Slumber Party?”” Lumen asks innocently, and then she makes a V with her fingers and sings the line about … well, it’s about giving someone else’s girlfriend cunnilingus on her couch.
This, at least, gives Parrish a slight tightening of the face that tells me he does care at least a little.
“Are you here to apologize to Dakota for abandoning her yesterday?” Danyella asks blatantly, and my face pales. Parrish turns slowly to look at her, like she’s something small that needs to be squashed. To be fair, he looks at most people that way. He must decide that arguing with Danyella is too much, reverting back to his lazy sloth behavior as he turns back to me.
“Your boxes arrived. Tess wants you to come home early today to deal with it.” He looks at me like he didn’t say all sorts of confusing things to me, about Chasm, about Lumen … I snatch my book bag off the ground, knocking loose the metal heart pin. With a sigh, I pick it up and hook it back to the strap. Considering the way Tess has been acting, I should just throw it out.
Too bad I’m not that sort of person.
“You’re such a coward,” Danyella murmurs, but Parrish pretends not to hear her.
“Since you’re grounded again, I guess I won’t see at my house on Friday?” Lumen calls out, but I just turn around and toss her an overexaggerated grin.
“Don’t count on that—there’s always a chance for escape.” I salute her and then, because I know Parrish is watching, blow her a kiss.
“Is it really okay to pretend to be a lesbian now?” he snaps coldly as I join him on his way out the theater doors. I cast a look his direction, hefting my bag up my shoulder.
“Did I say I was a lesbian? I’m bisexual. About a two on the Kinsey scale, you colossal dickhead.”
He grits his teeth and ignores me, but when I reach out to grab hold of his arm—I just want to talk—he reacts like I’ve gut punched him. Parrish tears his arm away from me and stumbles back, breathing so hard he looks like he’s on the tail end of a marathon run.
“Don’t touch me,” he chokes out, dropping his bag to the ground to rub at his arm. You’d think I just backhanded him or something.
