Kiss Me

“It was worth it.” His eyes glitter at me.

“Which part?”

“Being late.”

“How so? You didn’t get in trouble.”

“No, but I learned some French on my own last night.” Dazzling smile.

Look away. Just look away from the light.

“Oh really? Let’s hear it.”

“Vos lèvres sont mon béatitude.”

“I don’t know what béatitude means.”

“Really, Miss I’m So Fluent in French?”

“I’ll figure it out.”

He smiles half a smile. “Looking forward to knowing how you feel about it. I also got on the committee.”

“Oh, wow, that was fast.”

“Well, if it means I get to spend time with you without your boyfriend around, it can’t be all bad. I don’t suppose you missed the kiss and he died?”

“No such luck.”

 I repeat what he said in my brain. Translating it. “So your lips are my . . . what?”

“Not telling.”

I raise my hand.

Miss Praline says, “Yes, Keatyn?”

“What does béatitude mean?”

“We can discuss that after class. We need to focus on today’s lesson. We have a lot to cover.”

I turn around quick and say to Aiden, “Aiden? Is it a bad word?”

“I doubt I would say a bad word about your lips.”

“Although it doesn’t really sound like a bad word. Isn’t that something religious? Oh, wait, I’ll look it up on my phone.” I pull my phone out of my bag and click on a French translator app. I’m frustrated that I can’t come up with a simple word.

Miss Praline says, “Keatyn, you know the rules. No phones during school.”

“I’m looking up a French word in French class. This is research.”

“Give me your phone,” she says, walking up to my desk with her hand held out.

“Merde,” I mutter, not quite under my breath.

“You just cursed in French, Miss Monroe. What’s wrong with you today? I’m taking your phone and giving you a thirty minute detention.”

This pisses me off.

“Seal,” I say.

“What?” Miss Praline asks.

I talk louder. I’m pissed. “I said seal.”

“Why?”

“What’s the French word for seal, Miss P?”

“Phoque.”

The class laughs.

I grin at her. “Exactly what I was thinking.”

Her face looks shocked at me, her perfect little French student. “Miss Monroe! Make that two thirty minute detentions!”

Aiden decides to get into the mix for some reason. He’s still laughing. “Wait, so the French word for seal is phoque? Like fuck?”

“Aiden! You’re in detention too!” Miss Praline yells.

He looks all i

“Why?” he says. “Surely you can’t give me a detention for speaking French in French class. That doesn’t make sense.”

She gives him the squintiest, maddest eyes she can make and says, “Thirty minutes, Aiden. Now, does anyone else want in today?”

I seriously don’t know what is up all my teachers’ butts today. I don’t know if they got yelled at this morning, or are hung over, or what, but they are all crabby and piling on the homework all at once. We already have that group project Riley and I have to do for History. In Math, we have fifty problems to do, plus a new book to read for English. I seriously do not have time for all this.

As we’re walking out of class, Aiden says, “So I guess we can do tutoring in detention?”

“Guess so.”

“See ya, Boots.”

In jail together.

3:15pm

I’m sitting in detention next to Aiden. He leans toward me and whispers, “So did you figure it out yet?”

He is dying for me to know what my lips are.

“No, I can’t get my phone back until after detention. I guess it’s in some kind of phone jail. I’m pissed. I was using it as an educational tool. It’s ridiculous. If I get on Student Council that will be my first issue.”

He hands me his phone. “Here, you can use mine.”

“You really want me to know what you said, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“‘Your lips are my something, right?”

He says it again in French, and he can’t speak French worth a shit, but this he says beautifully, almost poetically.

I grab his phone, start to type into Google.

The detention teacher, who has been completely ignoring us up until this point, chooses this moment to look at me. “No phones during class time or detention. Give me your phone, Miss Monroe.”

“Um, first off, it’s not my phone, and secondly, he was letting me borrow it to look up a French word for class.”

“I don’t care. Rules are rules. Give it to me.”

“No offense, but this is bullshit. Aren’t we supposed to be able to do our homework in here, and isn’t technology part of our world?”

“You just earned yourself another thirty minutes, missy.”

I sigh as he takes Aiden’s phone from my hands.

Aiden grins at me. “You’re feisty today.” Then he laughs. “Our phones are in jail together.”

“Yeah, well, when you get out of here, you can go rescue them. I’ll be here until next week.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. You have to pay twenty dollars to get your phone out of jail. Twenty per phone. So you’re go

“I owe twenty, yes. But it’s your fault your phone got sent to jail. You wanted me to know what it was so bad. Why don’t you just tell me?”

“Well you’re supposed to try and be a little sneaky when you use it in class: hide it under your desk or something, not just hold it up and show the teacher you’re using it.”

“Shut up and do some homework. Oh, and write down your email for me. I want you to read what I sent Brad about ideas for the first themed weekend, so you’ll be prepared for the meeting in the morning.”

“I already had Brad forward me your email. But, you don’t have to pretend to want me involved. I know you just wanted me on the committee so you can hang out with me without your boyfriend around.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re so right. I’m dating a gorgeous senior who is crazy about me, and I’m trying to figure out ways to spend time with you.”

Happy endings.

6pm

When I go to get my phone out of jail, it has already closed. I am so pissed because now I won’t be able to get it out until tomorrow morning.

But when I get back to my dorm, it is lying on my bed surrounded by a whole bunch of little purple wrapped candies. Chocolate candies with the words Hershey’s Bliss on the front. I take one out and pop it in my mouth, letting the chocolate melt on my tongue. Yum.

Then I look at my phone, which has a bunch of texts from today. I reply to a few, touch up my makeup, put on some perfume, grab my speech notecards, and hurry to the library.

Dawson is sitting at a table, waiting for me.

I give him a head nod, then walk up to the librarian, and ask to sign in for one of the private study rooms.

She asks me, “Purpose of the room.”

I hold up my notecards and tell her to practice my speech for Student Council. She asks who will be in the room with me. I point to Dawson, and she narrows her eyes at me. I can tell she is wondering.

So I pretend to look around the library. “Hey, it’s not very busy in here, maybe when I’m done with him, you could listen to my speech too. Maybe give me some pointers.” Then I pour it on. “You know I’m new here, and I’m, like, really nervous about it. I can’t believe I got talked into ru

I can tell by the look on her face that this does not sound fun to her.

She glances at her watch. “Uh, I’d really love to.” She looks up at the sky, obviously trying to come up with an excuse. “But I have some things to do. New books to catalog and things.”

The librarian is a bad actress.

But I know that now she will not want me to finish with Dawson quickly. And also will not be checking to see if we are done because she knows if she does, I will make her listen. It should insure almost total privacy.