not great at reading the situation, mate. Here’s a little hint: fuck off.”
The charm dissolved. He glanced at me again, seemed to see me for the first time. I mentally cringed in anticipation of what came next. When a girl doesn’t fall to pieces over some pheromone-drenched caveman, she’s one of two things. She’s either ugly like me, or—
“Not worth it,” he said. “Couple of dykes.”
All I saw was the blood. I didn’t even see Blythe hit him. Just a brilliant bouquet of liquid red petals bursting in his face.
People surged around us, yelling, grabbing, stopping thefight, and in the chaos I got pushed to the back of the crowd. Someone had Blythe by the elbows, holding her while she writhed like a wildcat. They lifted McStud to his feet as he spouted off about suing the club and the drunk slut for all they were worth. Blythe didn’t flinch. In her eyes I caught a maniacal glint of delight.
“You stupid cunt,” she crowed at him. “You can’t slut-shame me if I love being a slut.”
Two minutes later, bouncers dumped us all on the street.
———
By the time McStud ducked into a cab with one last Cro-Magnon glower, all the fight had drained from Blythe. We sat on a curb in a pool of warm whiskey streetlight, heads hanging, hair tumbling over our knees. Blythe flipped her cigarette box end over end. Nervous habit.
“Armin’s going to kill me,” she said.
I held out my hand for a cig.
We lit up, sent smoke spiraling into the light. A police siren wailed far away, keening and lonely, melancholy.
“Why’d you hit that guy?” I said.
“Because he’s a fucking useless prick.”
I raised an eyebrow. She raised one back.
“And it improved his face.”
We started giggling.
“It’s not funny,” I said. “They’ll ban us for life. They’ll deport you.”
“So stop laughing, you lunatic.”
“I can’t if you won’t.”
This made her laugh harder. She tried to take a drag and smeared blood on her lip.
“You’re bleeding,” I said, alarmed.
“It’s mostly his.” She scrubbed her hand over her mouth,spreading that rusty redness, then smiled, more of a leer. “Am I still pretty, Laney?”
God, yes. “You look feral.”
Blythe threw her head back, roared hoarsely at the sky. Sweat glazed her neck, freckled with stray glitter from the club, like stardust.
“Why’d you hit him, really?”
She scraped her cigarette on the pavement, painting a trail of sparks. “Because he deserved it. Because of how he treated you.”
“Not because of that slut stuff?”
“A girl who likes sex is a slut. A guy who likes sex is a stud.” Blythe crushed her cig messily, a confetti of ash and ember spraying up over her hand. “Double standard crap. I’m doing my part to spread feminist enlightenment.”
“One broken nose at a time.”
We laughed. But I thought, You hit him when he called us something else.
I flicked a pebble into a sewer grate.
“Don’t let them scare you off,” she said.
“Who?”
“Blokes like that. They think they’re entitled to my attention because God gave them a dick and the world owes them beautiful women to put it in. They feel threatened by you.”
My heart quickened. “Why?”
“Because they don’t understand us.” She squinted into the streetlight. “You and I may as well be speaking our own language. You’re the only one I can really talk to about anything. About everything.”
The blood on her mouth looked like smudged lipstick. On me it would’ve been deranged, but on her it was weirdly beautiful. Even sitting still she was a hurricane. Always going two hundred miles an hour, so gorgeous in that haphazard,unwound way, the kind that pulled you in and then shredded you up.
“Want to know the truth?” I said. “I’ve been dying to show you my book. But I’m terrified, too, because then you’ll really know me.” I looked at my hands, my fingers ticking nervously. “I hide myself in my words. There’s a cipher, and one half
The charm dissolved. He glanced at me again, seemed to see me for the first time. I mentally cringed in anticipation of what came next. When a girl doesn’t fall to pieces over some pheromone-drenched caveman, she’s one of two things. She’s either ugly like me, or—
“Not worth it,” he said. “Couple of dykes.”
All I saw was the blood. I didn’t even see Blythe hit him. Just a brilliant bouquet of liquid red petals bursting in his face.
People surged around us, yelling, grabbing, stopping thefight, and in the chaos I got pushed to the back of the crowd. Someone had Blythe by the elbows, holding her while she writhed like a wildcat. They lifted McStud to his feet as he spouted off about suing the club and the drunk slut for all they were worth. Blythe didn’t flinch. In her eyes I caught a maniacal glint of delight.
“You stupid cunt,” she crowed at him. “You can’t slut-shame me if I love being a slut.”
Two minutes later, bouncers dumped us all on the street.
———
By the time McStud ducked into a cab with one last Cro-Magnon glower, all the fight had drained from Blythe. We sat on a curb in a pool of warm whiskey streetlight, heads hanging, hair tumbling over our knees. Blythe flipped her cigarette box end over end. Nervous habit.
“Armin’s going to kill me,” she said.
I held out my hand for a cig.
We lit up, sent smoke spiraling into the light. A police siren wailed far away, keening and lonely, melancholy.
“Why’d you hit that guy?” I said.
“Because he’s a fucking useless prick.”
I raised an eyebrow. She raised one back.
“And it improved his face.”
We started giggling.
“It’s not funny,” I said. “They’ll ban us for life. They’ll deport you.”
“So stop laughing, you lunatic.”
“I can’t if you won’t.”
This made her laugh harder. She tried to take a drag and smeared blood on her lip.
“You’re bleeding,” I said, alarmed.
“It’s mostly his.” She scrubbed her hand over her mouth,spreading that rusty redness, then smiled, more of a leer. “Am I still pretty, Laney?”
God, yes. “You look feral.”
Blythe threw her head back, roared hoarsely at the sky. Sweat glazed her neck, freckled with stray glitter from the club, like stardust.
“Why’d you hit him, really?”
She scraped her cigarette on the pavement, painting a trail of sparks. “Because he deserved it. Because of how he treated you.”
“Not because of that slut stuff?”
“A girl who likes sex is a slut. A guy who likes sex is a stud.” Blythe crushed her cig messily, a confetti of ash and ember spraying up over her hand. “Double standard crap. I’m doing my part to spread feminist enlightenment.”
“One broken nose at a time.”
We laughed. But I thought, You hit him when he called us something else.
I flicked a pebble into a sewer grate.
“Don’t let them scare you off,” she said.
“Who?”
“Blokes like that. They think they’re entitled to my attention because God gave them a dick and the world owes them beautiful women to put it in. They feel threatened by you.”
My heart quickened. “Why?”
“Because they don’t understand us.” She squinted into the streetlight. “You and I may as well be speaking our own language. You’re the only one I can really talk to about anything. About everything.”
The blood on her mouth looked like smudged lipstick. On me it would’ve been deranged, but on her it was weirdly beautiful. Even sitting still she was a hurricane. Always going two hundred miles an hour, so gorgeous in that haphazard,unwound way, the kind that pulled you in and then shredded you up.
“Want to know the truth?” I said. “I’ve been dying to show you my book. But I’m terrified, too, because then you’ll really know me.” I looked at my hands, my fingers ticking nervously. “I hide myself in my words. There’s a cipher, and one half
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