Kiss My Ass

Carlyle King was never the popular girl. Hell, if she was being honest, she would admit that no one knew who she was. She wasn’t a loner, she was just quiet. Or, that’s what she would tell people, anyway. Which didn’t really help that her best friend (best male friend, anyway) was the most attractive guy in school (or so people would argue…not that she thought so or anything…right?). People would’ve thought that all eyes would be on her.

But they weren’t.

Not that she was complaining. After all of the antics that Gaskarth (because why would she call him by his first name?) had pulled, along with his best friend, Jack, she wasn’t really thrilled to be associated with him. Although, well, she wasn’t embarrassed, she just didn’t like to have attention on her. But Alex and Jack were the class clowns; more than that, they were the school clowns. They loved the attention and they loved to have fun. Which wasn’t bad. It just wasn’t…what Carlyle wanted.

It didn’t help that her other best friend, Erika, was dating Jack. And she was just as rambunctious as he was. Again—not a bad thing. And maybe Carlyle could admit that sometimes she wondered how she and Erika had been friends for so long since they were so different. But whenever something went wrong, Erika was there, and that’s when Carlyle was reminded that it didn’t matter if their personalities were off kilter; what mattered was that they were always there for one another.

Of course, even though Carlyle was extremely different than most of her friends, she still loved them to death.

+

“Hey, whore.”

Carlyle slammed her locker shut, meeting the bright blue eyes of her best friend, Erika. “Hey.”

Erika smiled and opened Carlyle’s locker (because why would she use her own locker that was inconveniently on the other side of the school when she could commandeer her best friend’s?), grabbing her books from the bottom. “Have you seen Jack?”

Carlyle shrugged. “He and Gaskarth are probably making out under the staircase,” she suggested.

Erika sighed. “God, again?”

She smiled. “No, really. We have to meet before English with our teacher. Apparently the presentation we had yesterday was inappropriate,” she said with a shrug.

“What did you guys do?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Erika protested. “It was all Jack.”

“It’s always Jack,” Carlyle agreed. Because, really, it almost always was.

Erika sighed. “Well. If you find him, gently remind him that we’re late.”

“Shouldn’t you…be going now?” she asked.

She shrugged, leaning against her locker. “If he’s gonna be late, I’m gonna be late, too.”

Carlyle nodded. “Well, I’m going to hunt down Gaskarth because, if he skips government one more time, I think I’m going to kick him,” she told her.

“Tell Jack—“

“You got it,” Carlyle said, cutting her off, before tossing the strap of her messenger bag over her shoulder. She walked down the hallway, running a hand through her hair, in search of her best friend. Her best friend who managed to skip class once a week and have unnecessary attention drawn upon her when the teachers asked where he was. Because, of course, she was supposed to know. She rarely did. She made her way to the furthest staircase from the actual classrooms and, of course, Alex was sitting under them, iPod headphones in ear and Jack at his side. She sighed, cocking a hip to the side.

Jack elbowed Alex in the side, pointing up to their friend, and he gathered his books.

Alex removed his headphones, a small smile on his face. “Hey, Lyle.”

Carlyle frowned. “Were you planning on skipping again, Gaskarth?”

“I—I should probably go,” Jack said, pointing towards the doorway.

“Yes. Erika’s looking for you; said something about being late for a meeting?” Carlyle said.

“Shit!” Jack exclaimed. “I’m late! Later, guys!” And while, yes, he was indeed late, he really just wanted to get away from the staircase. Whenever Lyle and Alex fought, it was volatile. No holds barred.

Alex looked his best friend up and down, from her gray Uggs (that he had actually got her for Christmas the year before) to her dark skinny jeans, old band tee, and one of his old hoodies. Sure, no one thought she was intimidating because she was quiet, but Alex knew her better than that. She was tall (only four inches shorter than his six foot one frame) which made it easier for her to slap him and she didn’t take his shit (like everyone else did). “Hi,” he greeted with a bright Gaskarth smile.

Carlyle frowned. “Were you planning on skipping?” she asked again.

Alex looked down at his iPod, then back at his best friend, and he shrugged. “I mean. Maybe.”

She sighed, running a hand through her long, dark hair. “You can’t keep skipping. What if you fail?”

He shrugged. “Then I fail?”

“Come to class, Gaskarth.”

He pouted. “Why?”

“Because I’m sick of being called out whenever you do.”

He smirked. “So we reach the real problem.”

“You know that’s the problem, Gaskarth,” she snapped. “Now let’s go.” She held her hand out, anxiously waiting as to whether or not he would take it, and somehow wasn’t surprised when he reluctantly took her hand, pulling himself off of the floor.

“I don’t see why we have to go to government,” Alex said, wiping the dirt off of the back of his skinny jeans and shoving his iPod into his pocket. “I don’t want to be President, so why should I care?”

“I thought you would love to learn about the law,” Carlyle commented as she started up the stairs. “After all, it’s easier to break the law when you know what’s illegal, right?”

Alex slapped himself mentally when he caught himself staring at her for just a little too long.

“Alex?” Carlyle asked, turning around at the top of the stairs. Her green eyes were narrowed curiously, waiting for an answer.

Alex shook his head, running up the stairs to catch up with her. “Right.”

And, okay, maybe he didn’t know what he was agreeing to.

But it didn’t matter.

+

Alex hated government. Well, the class, not the institution itself. It was boring and it dragged on and on. He didn’t see how Carlyle actually enjoyed it. He glanced over at her and saw that she was studiously taking notes (of course she was) and paying attention to everything the teacher said. Of course, he wasn’t surprised—all of the girls paid attention in that class. After all, the teacher was young, fresh out of college, and apparently what girls found attractive, though Alex didn’t see Mr. Bourke as anything special (apparently everyone else did).

“Now, who can tell me what Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell is?” Mr. Bourke asked.

Carlyle’s hand shot up (it always did because she always knew the answer).

Mr. Bourke smiled. “Yes, Ms. King?”

“It’s a policy set in place that pretty much prohibits homosexuals from joining the army,” she explained. “I mean, that’s not the politically correct way to say it—“

Alex snorted.

Carlyle frowned and looked over at her best friend. “Do you want to contribute something, Gaskarth?”

“I just don’t see the big deal about being all politically correct all the time,” Alex said with a shrug.

Mr. Bourke leaned back against his desk. “Explain.”

That was another thing Alex hated—the way the classroom was structured; less lecture and more discussion. He hated having to defend his opinions. Couldn’t he just have them without being asked why? Apparently not. “Because if someone’s offended, that’s their fault,” he told him.

Mr. Bourke smiled. “So you don’t watch what you say around some people?”

“Not really.”

“The things you say near your best friend, you would say near your grandparents, then?” he asked.

Alex paused. “Not exactly. But I don’t think my grandmother would want to hear about the times I’ve scored while under the influence,” he told him with a smile.

Mr. Bourke nodded slowly, a small smile on his face. “No, I don’t imagine any grandmother would want to hear about her underage son breaking the law.”

“Now my grandfather, on the other hand, he would give me a high five,” Alex told him.

Carlyle scoffed.

Alex looked over at her. “Something you would like to contribute, King?” he asked, mocking.

“You’re forgetting that I know your grandparents, Gaskarth. Your grandfather would slap you upside the head and tell you to respect women,” she pointed out.

Alex smiled despite her comment. He leaned over, motioning for her to come closer—she did. “I have a rep to protect, King,” he told her in a mock stage whisper, before sending a wink to a girl across the room.

Carlyle rolled her eyes and slapped him upside the head. “Since your grandfather isn’t here to do it for you,” she told him.

“Okay, let’s not hit others, how about that?” Mr. Bourke said before Alex could retaliate.

Alex didn’t say anything for the rest of class. Sometimes, he didn’t know how they stayed friends since they were seven. Of course, sometimes he didn’t know why Carlyle acted so different around him than she did around everyone else. They were the best of friends but they fought like an old married couple (as Jack pointed out on more than one occasion). But if he were being honest, he would admit that he wouldn’t change it for the world.

+

“I don’t know why you have to continuously damage my reputation, Lyle,” Alex said, walking with his best friend to the cafeteria.

“What reputation do you want to uphold, Alex?” she asked. “The one where you screw every girl who walks by or the one where you screw every girl who walks by while drunk?”

Alex paused, seeming to think it over (he wasn’t). “Both.”

Lyle smiled, but not because the situation was funny, but because it was…Alex. “You’re an idiot.”

“And you love me,” Alex said, tossing an arm around her shoulders. “Now, be a dear and get me some fries and a coke, yeah? I gotta go ask out this hot blonde to a party this weekend.”

“Good to know,” she muttered, ignoring how Alex kissed her forehead before walking away. She walked into the cafeteria alone, a frown on her face, as she got lunch for herself and Alex. She sat down at their table alone, apparently Erika and Jack were still in line and Alex was still asking out the hot blonde. She wasn’t alone for too long, though, as Ryan Decker, a wide receiver for the football team, sat down across from her.

“Hi,” he said, a wide smile on his (okay, stereotypically pretty) face.

“Hi,” Carlyle said softly. And maybe she was wondering why the fuck he was there. But maybe she didn’t care.

“I didn’t know if you would be interested in going to a party with me this weekend,” Ryan said, still smiling.

And, okay, maybe girls didn’t say no to that smile. And when Carlyle looked into his deep blue eyes, she understood why. She found herself smiling and nodding back. “Okay. Sure.”

“Perfect.”