All My Life I've Been Good, But Now...
Hinamori Momo: Goody Two Shoes. There's no worse label in the world, and most of my life I've been stuck with it. It's not always a bad thing; most of the time, I like being good. What can I say, my granny taught me right. I do my homework, never swear, floss my teeth meticulously, and 99 times out of 100 I don't want to break a rule even if no one's looking. It's that other 1% of the time that's the problem. Because, you see, once you're labelled a good girl, it's a thing, and people are always looking. If you step out of line even for a second, it's a huge deal. And if you think the scorn you face as a good girl is bad, you should see the way people treat a good girl gone bad. I've seen it, and it's not pretty. Like thirty-years-of-therapy not pretty.
So, for seventeen years I carried the burden of being the good girl. I fantasized about falling from grace sometimes. It's not that I ever intended to; I just daydreamed about what life would be like if no one was watching, if I could just close my eyes in class for a while, get a C on an unimportant test, let my eyes linger too long on a guy I didn't know—nothing crazy, just stuff that wasn't perfect that other girls did all the time. Little did I know . . . oh, did you notice I'd switched to the past tense? Well, that's because three months ago I actually did it—not on purpose, mind you, but I did. I fell off the good girl cloud and crashed into life-altering, terrifying, empowering disgrace.
So what did I do? Well, it's complicated. First of all, I used to have the best two best friends in the whole world: Hitsugaya Toushirou and Matsumoto Rangiku. Well, Rangiku and I were kind of like best frenemies—we fought a lot, competed over everything, really, but we weren't that serious about it. Until I fell for this guy Aizen. He was older, super cute, and the first guy who'd ever really any attention (besides watching for slip-ups) to shy, plain, boring old me. And he was a "good" guy too, so I thought I'd finally found someone who understood me. I would have done anything for him and, well, kind of did. Because Aizen wasn't such a nice guy after all. He stole a lot of money from the school, got himself put in charge of investigating the crime, and then framed it all on Toushirou. And . . . I believed it. I believed it all, even though I'd known Toushirou my whole life and Aizen for like all of five minutes, as Rangiku would say. Long story short, I was the one who turned Toushirou into the principal. He almost got expelled! But at the last second Rangiku figured out the truth and cleared Toushirou's name, and Aizen was the one expelled. Which left me friendless, guilty, and definitely not an angel any more. Good girls don't betray their best friends.
So ever since then, I've been hiding out, laying low, dodging snickers and leering glances, and trying to work my way back into my best friends' good graces. Toushirou said he understood, even though he's been kind of distant since then, but Rangiku has never forgiven me. Our rivalry turned real. She didn't want me to hang out with Toushirou any more, and I just wanted to get close enough to apologize and maybe something more, because I'd finally realized that Aizen had just been using me, and the guy who paid attention to me—shy, plain, boring old me—had been Toushirou all along. I thought maybe we had a chance at more than friendship, and I wanted that. But every time I went to talk to him, Rangiku was in the way, calling him away, flirting with him, basically throwing herself at him. Luckily he never noticed—because Rangiku is seriously hot—Toushirou's just not like that. Anyway, before I knew it, we were like Betty and Veronica fighting over Archie, and it was anything but pretty.
"Shiro-chan!" I called, spotting Toushirou standing by his locker—alone, for once—and rushing over.
"Hey," he said, glancing up at me through his bangs. Toushirou's so adorable. And small. Very small. "What's up, Hinamori?"
He used to call me Momo. I gave him my perkiest smile. "Not much, just aced my science test, hopefully! Want to go grab a smoothie to celebrate?" I grabbed his arm, pulling him toward the door.
"Ugh, your geek is totally showing. Try not to fly your freak flag so high, Peaches," Rangiku mocked, appearing out of nowhere and latching onto Toushirou's other arm. "Boss-man's too busy to go guzzle down empty calories with you. We have a meeting in ten."
She was so smug, flipping her hair and pulling Toushirou so that he slammed into her barely covered and way-too-big chest. No one had a right to be that hot. I wished my hair was flippable, and I could wear my school uniform scandalously open like that—after all, I didn't have to put up the good-girl facade anymore. But my hair frizzed the second I let it loose from its bun, and I could unbutton my shirt to my navel and there still wouldn't be any cleavage to speak of. Rangiku was striking and exotic and sexy as h-e-double-hockey-sticks, and I was just . . . boring old me.
My only saving grace was that Toushirou never seemed to care.
"Will you stop doing that?" he snapped, pulling himself away from Rangiku. He turned to me with an apologetic look. "Sorry, Hinamori, but we have a Social Committee meeting this afternoon. Rain check?"
"Oh. Um, that's ok, I understand. Some other time," I said, faking a smile. Rangiku threw me a triumphant look. She had a real advantage being on the same committee as him, working right under him, in fact. I used to work with them too, but I had bailed for the Community Service Committee to be closer to Aizen.
I watched them walk away, wishing it didn't have to be like this. Toushirou and I had basically grown up together. We lived next door to each other (so, yes, I was literally the girl next door), and we were playing together before we could talk. We both had absentee parents—mine were drug addicts who'd ditched me with my grandma as soon as I was born, his were workaholics who left him at home with a nanny who just loved to play cards with my granny, and, bam, we were instant companions. We were inseparable in elementary school, and unlike a lot of boy/girl childhood friends, we weathered the jump to middle school just fine. Around then Rangiku moved in down the block, and she added her own wild-child flair to the mix. We used to ride our bikes all around the neighborhood together, playing whatever crazy game Rangiku made up that day or looking for the lost treasure she'd convinced us was hidden in my attic. I think it was her energy that made my friendship with Toushirou stick. Without her we might have drifted apart, with not enough to say to each other any more and too many different things going on with our bodies that we didn't want to share, but Rangiku shared everything. She told Toushirou more than he ever wanted to know about girls and periods and PMS and training bras. And she asked him about everything. I always tried to protest, said it was inappropriate, but secretly I wanted to know the answers too. Rangiku let me feel wild without ever having to really do anything. So we entered high school thick as thieves, as always.
But my crush on Aizen and subsequent lapse of judgment—and loyalty—had ruined everything. Now, we were still friends on the surface, but just barely. I'd never really been close to anyone else. If I let Rangiku take Toushirou away, I'd have no one. As I watched them walk away that day, middle of second semester of our junior year, I decided losing him to her was not an option.
So instead of going to get a smoothie, I went out that afternoon and bought three things: A flat iron, a wonder bra, and a tube of bright red lipstick. Hinamori Momo was going bombshell. Hey, if I was going to beat Rangiku, I was going to have to play by her rules. There was no reason we couldn't both be Veronica!
Except that Betty could never be Veronica. My hair frizzed the moment I stepped outside (despite the ionizing flat iron that was guaranteed to be frizz-free), the bra was so uncomfortable I couldn't do anything but fidget and mess with it all day, and the red lipstick kept bleeding to my teeth every time I closed my mouth. I caught sight of myself in my locker mirror after first period and burst into tears. The word Bozo the Clown came to mind. What had I been thinking?
"Hey Hinamori. Ready for class?" asked a familiar voice.
If I hadn't already been crying, I would have started. Out of all the times and all the days in life, Toushirou had to pick this moment to finally show up at my locker and walk me to class? It was settled. The universe was punishing me.
"Oh, Shiro-chan, hi!" I squeaked, swiping the tears off my face and trying to take the failed lipstick experiment along with. You had to be bold to carry off red lipstick. Rangiku could do it. I could not. "Just give me a second!"
He tipped my face toward him and I wanted to die. "You've been crying. Momo, what's wrong?"
He hadn't called me that in months. My heart skipped a beat and I tried to bluster through it. "Oh, nothing. Just having a bad day, I guess."
A couple popular girls walked by, looked at me, and snickered. I blushed, trying to tame my hair into something resembling a ponytail.
"I think your hair looks nice," Toushirou said, watching me.
I looked at him like he was nuts. "It's everywhere!"
He just shrugged and pointed to his own. "So? It's a fashion statement. Makes me feel less alone."
I couldn't help but laugh. Shiro-chan's hair could have its own zip code.
He rolled his eyes. "Who cares what they think. Come on, we're going to be late."
I let him drag me to class, passing Rangiku on the way, and threw her my own triumphant look. I didn't miss the narrowing of her eyes telling me in no certain terms that This. Was. War.
The next day I went back to normal, and Rangiku pulled out all the stops. She rolled up her skirt a good two inches—it had already been pushing the limits of decency—and found an excuse to bend over right in front of Toushirou at least once an hour. He must have seen her lacy underwear with the pink flowers on them at least seven times! See, even I saw them too many times to miss the color . . . and I wasn't trying to look!
Whatever. She could tramp it up all she wanted, Toushirou was too sweet a guy to want a woman like that. I just had to remind him how classy I could be. So the next day I wore a sweater set and my granny's pearls over my uniform, and I made sure to mention my good grades and volunteer work at the local soup kitchen at every possible moment. So then Rangiku started hanging all over him, stroking his arm, rubbing his shoulders, hugging on him and kissing his cheek. So then I started reminiscing about all the cute things we had done together when we were babies, and she laughed loudly about all the crazy (yet fun) things she'd done with him over the past year while I was busy with Aizen, and then things just kind of got out of hand.
One day a few weeks later, Toushirou was sitting in the cafeteria with his soccer teammates, and Rangiku was nowhere in sight. Score! I tapped him on his shoulder and pulled him aside.
"Hey Momo," he said, looking wary.
"Hi Shiro-chan!" I squealed, hugging him. "I'm so excited for your game tonight! I was thinking of going bowling afterward, do you wanna come?"
"Sure," he said, giving me a little half-smile, which for Shiro was the equivalent of jumping up and down.
I grinned. "Great! It's—"
"Oh, there you are Boss-man," Rangiku drawled, coming up behind him and wrapping her arms around his neck. Which basically made her breasts cover his ears and pop right into my face. "I'm sure you've heard by now—anyone who's anyone is invited—but Renji's having a party tonight after the game. I told him we'd stop by for a little bit . . . that's unless you want to have our own private celebration of your win," she stage whispered into his ear.
First of all, no one had invited me to any party! And second . . . "I asked him first!" I shrieked, stomping my foot. The nerve!
Rangiku just rolled her baby blues. (Was there anything about her that wasn't pretty?) "But you asked him to do something lame! I'm sure he'd rather go drinking at Renji's party than hang out with you at some smelly bowling alley!"
"Bowling's fun! Besides, Shiro doesn't drink, and he'd have a lot more fun hanging out with me than watching you get wasted and throw yourself at every guy in a five mile radius!"
"Why, you—"
"Stop!" Toushirou shouted, staring at us in horror. "I've had enough of this! If you guys can't get along, I'm not doing anything with either of you!" He threw his lunch away and strode off down the hall.
"Look what you did!" I snapped, glaring at Rangiku. "Now neither of us get to hang out with him!
She smiled. "At least if I can't have him, you can't either!"
"What the hell is wrong with you two?" snapped Ichigo, Toushirou's teammate and closest male friend. He glared at us from the table. "You just drove him off with your fighting, and you're still going at it? This is getting ridiculous! Neither of you even has a chance, you know. I'm so glad to see you're ruining your friendship with Shiro for nothing!" With that, he stood up and ran off in the same direction as Toushirou.
"Ugh, whatever!" Rangiku huffed, stomping away too.
I stood there with my lunch, alone, nowhere to sit, and I couldn't help but think Ichigo had a point. I'd started this to save my relationship with Toushirou . . . it sure didn't seem to be working out that way.
At the end of the day, while I was trying to decide between going to watch the soccer game and just going home to lick my wounds and figure out a solution that didn't end in me losing both of my best friends, Toushirou came up to me.
"Hey," he said, leaning back against the locker next to mine.
"Um, hi," I whispered, staring at the ground. "Sorry about earlier."
"Nah, I'm sorry I yelled at you. I'm just nervous about the game. You're coming right?"
Well, I was now. "Of course! Don't worry, you'll be great!"
"I hope so. Anyway, I thought about it, and I'd have way more fun bowling with you than going to some stupid party. Are we still on for tonight?"
I nearly shrieked. My first date with Shiro! "Of course! Should I meet you on the field?"
"Nah, meet me at the gym a half hour later. I have to talk to coach a bit after the game."
"Sure!"
I was floating on the clouds, and not even Rangiku's oddly smug look later, or her obvious attempt to cheer louder than me at the game, could bring me down.
They won the game, obviously. The team was undefeated! I wandered around a bit afterward, then decided to wait for Shiro in the gym . . . watching everyone jet off to the party with their friends was pretty depressing. When I got there, it seemed deserted.
"Toushirou?" I called, peeking in the storage room, then checking behind the bleachers. I was debating opening the door to the locker room (just to yell in, I wasn't going to peek!), when I heard the door open. "Hey—" I began, cutting off as I spun around and saw . . . "Rangiku?"
"What are you doing here, Peaches?" she snapped, checking her nails. "It's so like you to crash my date with Toushirou. No sense of loyalty."
"But I had a date with Toushirou!" Suddenly the door slammed behind Rangiku and there was a scraping noise. I ran over and peeked out the window, and saw Ichigo standing outside with a chair propped under the door handle.
I tried to push the door open, but it wouldn't budge.
"Let me out, you fool!" Rangiku snapped, throwing her weight against the door.
She was such an idiot. There was another door on the other side of the gym! I ran over there, and just when I was about to reach it, that door slammed, and I saw Toushirou (well, his hair really), peeking through the window of that door.
"Shiro-chan, what are you doing?" I hissed, pounding on the door.
"What I should have done a long time ago," he shouted. "Matsumoto, Hinamori, listen up! I'm tired of all your nonsense and fighting. We used to be best friends! So whatever your problem is with each other, you better figure it out, because Ichigo and I aren't letting you out until you do!"
"Haha, Boss-man, really funny," Rangiku snarked, stomping over. "But I'm missing the party of the year, so you better stop your games and let me out!"
It wasn't like I was missing anything nearly that cool, and I knew Shiro well enough that he meant what he said, and Rangiku well enough that she was never going to make up with me, so I just walked over to the the bleachers and sat down. It was going to be a long, loud, unproductive night.
About a half hour in, Rangiku gave up yelling and starting coaxing, flirting, anything to get Toushirou to open the door. Then she went to the other side and tried her wiles on Ichigo, who was even more impervious than Toushirou.
I couldn't help but laugh. "You could probably get any man in this school to do anything for you . . . except those two," I muttered. Big mistake, because then she whirled on me!
"This is all your fault!" she snapped, stalking toward me. "If you would just give up on this ridiculous idea that Toushirou would ever want to date you, we wouldn't be stuck in this mess!"
I stood up and stomped toward her, too. "Me?" I shouted. "You didn't even want Toushirou until you realized I did!"
"So? He obviously prefers me! Who wouldn't?"
We were only a foot away from each other now.
"If he likes you, it's only because you're easy! It's not hard to wear skimpy clothes and throw yourself at a guy!" I taunted.
She scoffed at me. "It's more than that, honey. You think you could pull this off? It doesn't matter how I dress . . . I could dress like a nun like you and he'd still like me better, because I'm way more fun and I don't betray people!"
I slammed my fist against the wall. "What is your problem, Matsumoto? I made a mistake with Aizen, and I'm sorry! I've apologized and apologized, but I'm not going to do it any more! You can either accept it, and we can be friends again, or you can cut me off for good! Either way, I'm not fighting with you any more!
She laughed, and I didn't know she could sound so bitter. "Oh, look, it's Momo the Martyr! I wondered when she would make an appearance. No matter what, it's always about you! You apologize because you feel bad, you want things to go back to the way they were because it'll make you feel better. Don't you ever think about anyone else? Not everything is about you!" She paused. "Actually, nothing is about you!"
"You . . . you meanie!" Way to pull out the insults, Hinamori. Good girl tendencies die hard, apparently.
"Weakling!"
"Slut!" That one was better.
"Backstabber!" Ouch.
"Ho!"
"Goody Two Shoes!"
"Witch!"
We were screaming now, chests heaving, our faces so close that our breaths mingled. My eyes met hers, and I was shocked by the passion in those baby-blue depths.
"R-Rangiku," I began, starting to step back, apologize, maybe run away, I don't know, anything to diffuse the tension.
That was when she swooped down and kissed me.
Wow. I'd never kissed anyone before, really, not on the lips. I never imagined my first kiss would be with a girl . . . with Rangiku. Or that I'd like it so much. Her lips were warm, and slightly sweet from her watermelon lip gloss. They were firm, but cushy at the same time, and God, I'm describing this all wrong! I don't know, it was good, okay! It was light and soft and it made my tummy flutter, and even though it only lasted a second, when she pulled away I didn't want it to end. I caught myself reaching up to pull her lips back to mine, and I panicked. I bolted back to the door, pounding on it and screaming, "Let me out, Shiro! It's not funny any more!"
I heard that same scraping noise, and then the door opened and I ran past a concerned-looking Toushirou, down the hall, and out the front door of the school. I didn't stop until I was a few blocks away from my house, and only then because my lungs were burning and I had a stitch in my side. This is apparently why you're supposed to stretch before running. But you take time to stretch when you've just had the most shocking, amazing, humiliating experience of your young adult life! Not gonna happen.
So I hobbled the rest of the way home, then flopped down on my bed, buried my face in the pillow, and vowed to start homeschooling the next week. There was no way I could face Ran after that. She'd just done that to mess with me and I—I'd responded! Worse yet, I'd practically begged for more. It would be embarrassing enough if I'd been that loose with a boy. But with a girl . . . I'd never live this down.
And try as I might, I couldn't ignore how my lips were still tingling.
I begged and pleaded all weekend, but granny didn't buy into the whole homeschool thing. So Monday morning, bright and early, I was back at school again, this time dressed in my leave-me-alone clothes: my scruffiest jeans and an old black hooded sweatshirt. I thought about pulling the hood over my face until only the tips of my eyelashes were visible, but figured that might draw more attention rather than less.
I was so hoping Rangiku would get the point. She'd won, I'd lost; there was no need for me to try to dress up or look cute. This was my way of surrendering.
I'd forgotten that expecting Ran to pick up on subtlety was like expecting a mosquito not to bite. It just wasn't in her nature. So I shouldn't have been surprised when she was standing in front of my locker, waiting for me, but I was anyway.
"Momo!" she squealed, like she was the one who was surprised. It was my locker. Who was she expecting to see?
"Hi Rangiku," I mumbled, suddenly and inescapably tired of our rivalry and all the drama that went along with it. "What do you want?"
She ran her hand through the amber waves of her hair, then tapped a finger on her chin in the classic Ran scheming pose. "Just to say good morning to my BFF!"
She wrapped me into a hug before I could react, pulling my nose into the valley between her breasts. Now I knew how Shiro felt. The closeness made my senses swim. I had the sudden, ridiculous urge to never move, to just stay there, surrounded in softness and the scent of her powdery perfume.
I pushed her away. "Ran, what's the game? You got me, okay. You won. Toushirou's all yours. I don't want to play any more."
She fluttered her long, lush eyelashes at me, and my face heated. "No game, silly. Don't be so suspicious. I thought about what you said, and you're right. I've decided to accept your apology, and I want to be friends again."
She actually sounded genuine. I never knew she was such a good actress.
"I'll see you later," she trilled, kissing my cheek as she winked and bounced off to class.
Great. Just great. Matsumoto Rangiku was flirting—with me. And as my whole body flushed hot and I felt that weird clenching in my stomach again, I was forced to acknowledge that . . . it was working.
Apparently private humiliation wasn't enough. She seemed determined to get me to lapse in front of the whole school. It was a good game—one of her best, really—and I was too worn down to play. When Rangiku wanted something, she was relentless. For the next few weeks, everywhere I turned she was there, hugging me, stroking my arm, tucking stray hairs behind my ears, practically rubbing her barely clothed breasts in my face. Everything she'd done to Toushirou, she was doing to me. And I couldn't get enough of it. As much as I wanted to hate it, to be amused or annoyed instead of turned on, I couldn't help how I felt. This was stupid and a joke and the most sinful thing I'd ever been a part of, but the heart wants what it wants. Rangiku was wild and fun and the personification of sex, and I wanted her. What I felt for Toushirou paled in comparison. It was friendship, respect, admiration. I'd never dreamt of touching him, not really. Maybe holding hands. I couldn't look at Ran's perfectly manicured fingernails without wanting to feel them tangling in my hair, caressing my neck, slipping into my bra. She brought out urges I hadn't even known were there, taunting me with her false promises until I was a wreck, tempted with what I knew I could never have, and shouldn't want in the first place.
"What's going on with you two?" Toushirou asked one day after Rangiku whispered something in my ear that made me blush, hard—let's just say it involved her tongue and parts of my anatomy that aren't mentioned in polite company—and then flounced off down the hall, turning back to give a tiny wave when she was a few feet away.
"I—I don't know, she's—"
"Flirting with you like crazy?" he suggested, taking up his favorite pose against the nearest locker.
My nervous system was going to shut down if the blood didn't drain from my face sometime soon. "You could say that. I guess."
"She likes you. Likes you, likes you."
"She's just trying to embarrass me," I explained. "It's her newest game."
"And you like her too," he replied, ignoring me.
My heart stopped. "I do not!" I shot back, too fast, too loud, too desperate to be believed.
He rolled his eyes. "Please. I've never seen either of you go at it like this. Not even when you were competing over me!"
"You know about that?" I gasped, staring at him. I was all blushed out, or I would have been bright red. It's not everyday the guy you like tells you he knows you like him.
He snorted. "It was kind of hard not to notice, Momo."
"Well, you sure did a good job playing dumb!"
"Survival skills. It's not easy being caught between the two of you."
"Oh. Sorry." I sank down to the floor, in the middle of the crowded hallway, just sat down and buried my face in my arms. "What am I going to do?"
He sat down next to me. Good old Toushirou. I'd missed having him to talk to more than anything.
Come to think of it, our relationship had started to return to normal ever since Rangiku had turned her flirtations toward me. I hadn't made any moves on Toushirou, or even thought about him romantically, and I didn't really miss it.
Had I not had a crush on Toushirou at all? Had it been all about competing and fighting with Ran, and not about him, at least not in a romantic way?
"Admit it, Momo. You like her," he teased, not unkindly. "She excites you. Being around her makes your heart race faster. Thinking about kissing her makes you—" he broke off as I managed to dredge up one last blush. And it was a doozy.
"You kissed her!" he hissed, looking at me with new eyes.
I curled into a tighter ball, dying of humiliation. "Kind of. Yes."
"And? Did you feel anything?"
I just looked at him, and he read the misery on my face.
"Then what's the problem?"
"She's just messing with me. She kissed me as a joke, and noticed I felt something, and now she's determined to humiliate me because she hates me for betraying you—and her!"
"I don't know, Momo," he replied, looking thoughtful. "That would be pretty mean. Ran can be bitchy when she wants to be, and competitive, but she's not cruel."
That was true.
"She's your friend," he added, nudging me. "Not your worst enemy."
Funny how those two could feel like the same thing sometimes.
We sat in silence for a few moments, and I was grateful for the companionship, especially after feeling so alone for so long, but I still felt lost.
"This stinks," I muttered.
"Sometimes love sucks. But it can be worth it." Whoa. Wait a second . . .
"Hey," I said, glancing at Toushirou. "How do you know so much about this?"
He nodded across the hall, where Ichigo was waving at him. "Experience."
My jaw didn't hit the floor (I mean, nobody's can actually do that), but it came as close as humanly possible. And then I dissolved into giggles, right there on the floor, because while it was true that Toushirou had never really been the purpose of our fight to begin with, it was just too ironic that neither of us had ever had a chance of winning. Our best friend was gay with a capital G, and so was I apparently, and Rangiku, too, if Toushirou was right. I didn't have much faith. But that was before she cornered me in the back stairwell on a Tuesday morning in May.
"Toushirou told me that you think I'm faking," she said, raking her hair back.
I was thrown for a loop. All these weeks of flirtation and avoidance and I'd forgotten how bold she could be. "Aren't you?"
"No," she said, not a trace of amusement or manipulation in her voice.
I sighed, too conditioned and too afraid to face the truth that was staring me in the face. "You'll have to excuse me if I have a hard time believing that."
She reached out to touch my cheek, but I ducked away. She couldn't fake the hurt in her eyes. "Momo, I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I was starting to get pretty frustrated that you were resisting so hard when I obviously turn you on—"
I choked, whole body going hot (and, likely, bright red).
"—aww, Peaches, you're so cute when you blush like that!"
And my mortification was complete.
"But honestly," she continued, "it never occurred to me that you would think I wasn't serious."
"Then . . . this whole competition thing was because you liked me? You were never mad to begin with?" I asked, trying to work it all through.
"Oh, hell no, I was pissed! I was so angry at you for turning your back on Toushirou, and then you apologized to him and he just took you back, but you never even bothered to apologize to me, like you hadn't hurt and betrayed me, too."
Oh. "Rangiku, I'm sor—"
A wave of her hand cut me off. "Save it, I'm over it now. And you finally apologized to me in the gym. Anyway, I didn't really want to date Toushirou, I just wanted you to not get what you wanted. And then when he locked us in the gym and things got out of control and I kissed you . . . it was just impulse, the heat of the moment, you know?"
My hopes, which had risen without me noticing, plummeted into my toes. "Oh."
She shook her head, eyes blazing and focused right on me, and I was entranced.
"But then it just felt right, and I realized you felt it too, and you panicked and ran off but I just had this epiphany that I was so hurt and angry at you because I liked you. I realized I wanted to be with you. Date you, I mean. I . . ." she trailed off. "Will you go to prom with me, Peaches?"
It was my turn to wrap my arms around her, pulling her down to my level and pressing my lips against hers the way I'd wanted to all those weeks ago. It was just like I'd remembered, warm, sweet, nerve-wracking, and complete with fluttering tummy and the taste and scent of Rangiku. Only this time the inner conflict was gone. One kiss turned into another, and then another, and then other students were pushing past us, swarming around us, and I didn't care that our secret was out and we were public. It didn't matter. I wasn't the good girl any more, and I cherished that freedom. It was time for a new label: Lesbian, Wild Child, Matsumoto Rangiku's Girlfriend.
But as I held her close and she touched her tongue to mine, I knew the right label was Luckiest Girl in the World. Ran knew everything about me, and she'd never found me boring. She was sexy where I was cute, wild where I was sweet, bold where I was shy. She was a supermodel and I was the girl next door. She was sizzling, I was bubbly, and when we combined, it was pure chemistry.
Between us we created a heck—no, a hell of a lot of heat. And that's all I'm saying . . . at least for now.
I guess Betty and Veronica never needed Archie after all.