Page 42 of The Perfect Wrong
This is what happens when you try to kiss a prince, Delia. You turn into a toad.
Sigh.
Marnie can definitely never find out about this, or I’ll never live it down.
In some alternate universe where Dad never met Chris’ disaster of a mother, maybe he’d be picking me up right now.
In this one, all I can do is stare sadly at the screen, fighting the terrible urge to text him. Another brilliant idea.
Oh, hi, Chris. I’m sorry dinner sucked monkey balls. Sorry your mom’s a witch and my dad hangs on her every word like a lost puppy.
Sorry I’ll never be able to kiss you again.
Sorry I didn’t slap you and make your head spin when you shoved your hands where they don’t belong.
Sorry I effing liked it.
See?
There’s nothing to say. Nothing good. Nothing sane.
I bite my lip, itching to throw my phone against the wall.
Night sounds filter through my cracked door, the ocean whispering its secrets or just laughing at mine. I can’t decide.
But I sit up and drink some water, dragging myself over to my easel. I should do something more productive than trying to marry cartoon vampires.
The stormy scene on the beach I’d started painting a few days ago might be just the distraction I need.
I break out my paints and work on adding detail to the small black and white puff of a dog sitting by the rocks, staring at the unsettled horizon.
White dog like innocence.
Grey sky like sorrow.
Blue lightning like my sad little—
A noise makes me turn.
At first I think the soft whooshing is just the night outside vibing with my heart and offering its beach breeze.
But it’s odd how I don’t feel it.
I shrug and get two more brushstrokes in before I scream.
The rough hands landing on my bare shoulders almost make me faint.
Chris spins my chair around gently, pushing a finger against my lips.
“Don’t. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you, princess, but we need to talk. Then you can go back to your pretty picture,” he says, soft amusement shining in his eyes as he looks past me at my painting.
He doesn’t ask twice.
As soon as he lets go and I suck in a breath, I stare up in stunned disbelief before I look at his only possible entry point.
The door to my balcony is wide open now, and so is the screen.
“Seriously, what did you do?” I hiss, struggling to keep my voice down. “Climb a tree? Jump to my balcony from yours? Do you know how high up we are? You could’ve snapped your neck!”