Page 63 of The Underachiever’s Guide to Love and Saving the World
brYCE
We spent all day turning people back into themselves. Courtney and I didn’t get a chance to have the talk we both knew we needed. The now what talk where we had to face our feelings and the choices we made that got us stuck here.
By sunset, most of the city had been turned. Skeletons caught those forced to run from the cure. The dragon was off, netting stragglers. The mouse already had plans to march onward in the morning to liberate, and perhaps destroy as a result, the rest of the kingdom.
As I walked through the city, I took in the change we’d wrought.
Instead of villagers calling good day to each other, arguments broke out. Curse words zipped up and down alleys. Pent-up aggressions burst free at last. Lines were drawn and feuds formed. With the king gone, anarchy ruled.
Because the king was gone. With his mind clear, the king had a midlife crisis, realizing that his whole life, he had followed in the footsteps of his father without ever pursuing his dream of becoming a bard.
He’d drawn up a business plan to use his fame from being king to springboard his music career.
Meanwhile, Amy was thrown in prison, and everyone was pleased to be able to complain, loudly and at length, about the number of council meetings it was going to take to decide what to do with him.
When I looked up, I found I’d reached the courtyard where Courtney and I first appeared.
“Hey.” Courtney stood behind me. The fading sun lit her face in hues of gold and turned her short hair electric blue.
“Hi.” I didn’t know what else to say.
We stood there awkwardly.
With resolve in her eyes, she stepped forward, jabbing a finger my way. “You and I are never going to be one of those couples sung about in songs that bring out the best in each other. We don’t make sense, not on paper and not off it.”
“Talking about all the ways we suck as a couple is such a weird way for you to declare your feelings, Courtney.”
“I’m not done.” She avoided my eyes and gritted her teeth, like talking about her feelings made her experience physical pain. “Why can’t we be a couple who brings out the worst in each other? Why do we have to look pretty on paper if we’re so happy being miserable together?”
“We don’t have to do a thing we don’t want to,” I said, experiencing the same sort of realization you have when you grow up and move out and discover you could eat ice cream three times a day if you want to. Courtney was my ice cream—probably bad for me, but worth the stomachache.
She stepped forward and ran her fingers along the hem of my shirt. “I don’t wanna do the thing where we change. You know when people who are friends don’t want to get together because they’re scared of losing their friendship? You and I are like that, except I don’t want to lose my enemy.”
I nodded. What we had was fun and easy. It could stay that way.
“Love can’t fix us, or anything else for that matter.” Courtney raised our palms between us, interlocking our fingers. “Love is just glue that holds crap together.”
“My broken fits with your broken.” I brushed a soft kiss to her temple, and she sighed and shut her eyes.
“Yeah, but not like puzzle pieces, fitting together to make something whole. We don’t complete each other or any of that bullshit. We’re more like trash.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Trash, huh?”
The way she smiled, you’d think she’d learned I’d died and was already plotting how many firecrackers to set off at my funeral.
“Yeah, we’re trash. Shattered glass and chewed bubble gum and crumpled newspapers.
My mess and your mess, thrown together to create a priceless piece of art.
Maybe a lot of people look at it and don’t understand, but the people who matter—you and me—we get it. ”
Her smiling at me filled me with such intense joy that I could hardly stand it, so I pressed my lips to hers until she stopped, until words melted to soft sighs, and all that was left was her and me.
Kissing her didn’t feel like something new and exciting.
It felt like something old and precious and nostalgic.
That one particular feeling that sometimes surfaces but you can’t quite catch.
Like when a certain smell hits you, but you can’t place it, but you remember an old feeling of sunlight and safety and simplicity. Kissing her felt like those times.
We kissed, slow and lazy, until our sighs grew heavy, and our lips swelled.
When I looked into Courtney’s dark brown eyes, I knew she felt what I did.
She buried her hands into the hair at the back of my neck, and I tightened my grip on her waist. We stumbled against the nearest building, losing ourselves in each other.
With nothing immediately threatening our lives, the peace was so peaceful it almost hurt.
I murmured something about how, if anyone tried to interrupt us, I’d show them how much of a villain I was. Courtney fondly told me to shut up, and I gently said she was the fucking worst.