Page 109 of Such Sharp Teeth

I put my cigarette out in the ashtray and step down off the picnic table. I take two steps closer to him. Another step so my nose is an inch from his nose.

“Why don’t you prove it?”

He drops his cigarette and kisses me.

It’s a sloppy kiss.

Too much tongue. Too busy. He breathes heavy through his nose. His hand is on my throat, and his grip is hectic. I’ve got my hand on his chest, and I can feel his heart. I can hear his pulse. I can taste his adrenaline. It’s sweet. Awakens my appetite.

The juxtaposition of sensations is thrilling.

The exchange is wild.

I love a no-strings random hookup. This is my sport. I’m varsity, MVP. I should be enjoying this. But it doesn’t feel the way I want it to feel. The way I need it to feel.

He takes his hand from my throat and brings it to my chest. Bold.

I don’t appreciate the squeezing. He bites my lip, or maybe I bite his. And the taste of blood is all it takes. My thoughts turn. My stomach rumbles.

Does he know? How fragile, how weak he is beside me? That I could bite off his slippery, clumsy tongue? That I could peel off his chapped lips? Crush his greedy fingers to dust in my fist?

He pulls away, and I open my eyes to the glint of teeth, his grin.

This grin suggests he’s ignorant of danger. Suggests he assumes he is stronger. Assumes he is safe. I wonder what that’s like, to assume safety.

He reaches down and begins to lift the hem of my dress.

I step back before I do something I regret.

“Thanks for the cigarette,” I say.

I go back inside and straight to the bar. I order a whiskey on the rocks.

Ash comes over and puts her arm around me.

“Rory,” she says, “are you okay?”

“Stellar. Where’s Mia?”

“She left with that guy. Rory, I—”

“Let’s get pizza and play Skee-Ball,” I say. So that’s what we do.

The rest of the night passes in a haze of detachment, the events rendered surreal by sadness. At some point, Ash calls Seth to come pick us up.

And then I’m in the backseat of his car, and he’s got Billy Joel playing, and I say something like “You would.”

Then we’re back at Ash’s.

“Sleepover! We can stay up all night and watch movies and eat snacks and . . .” She passes out on the couch before she gets a chance to pull it out for us.

I sit in the recliner and pull a blanket over my head.

“I could put you in the guest room,” Seth says.

“I’m fine here, thanks. Hey, do you have any jerky?” I could really go for some meat.

“Jerky?”