—Girls, who's thirsty?
—I am!
Anne loved the times where Sasha shared her drinks.
—I am-! Wait, is that your special juice again?
A bright mauve liquid was stored in a transparent, big bike water bottle.
—It is, Mar-Mar-
—Pass. I'll go get some water from the sink when I get thirsty.
Sasha's smirk soured a little bit, mumbling to herself:
—What a buzzkill.
Anne barely heard what she said to their friend, as she was focused on the cheerleader taking the first sips of her drink. After she finished her swig, her eyes fixated on Anne, who looked at her like a kitten expecting her human to share some tasty treat she wouldn't usually eat herself…
—Do you still want to, Anne?
A brief nod was enough for her to be handed the bottle. She just needed a small whisk at it to remember why Marcy had rejected it; the alcohol stench drowned the sweetness of the juice.
It's been a few months since Sasha brought to school her "after practice energy drink", and Anne had noticed how her friend, after a few dregs, would be walking funny, slurred her words and got a bit more "touchy" with her.
—It's pomegranate flavored…
The juice smelled a bit stronger than usual. Anne was used to drinking wine punch from Sasha, but this time it was more akin to the sato shot her parents allowed to drink for the latest New Year celebration.
If it was cherry, then she could bear it; even if her nose wrinkled to the reek, her tongue would be the final judge of that. Barely touching Sasha's hand, she grabbed the bottle and expected something to stop her arm from pouring some of its contents into her mouth. But Marcy was focused on her console and her tongue soon recoiled from the sweet, strong flavor running down her tongue.
—Pretty good, huh?
—Sash, this isn't a simple punch! It's too strong!
—I know, right? I only had to mix sherry and grenadine. My mom loves it.
Neither parent knew nor noticed how low their alcohol reserves were getting every time Sasha spent time with each of them. But as her dad tried to drink less, her mom could keep a well supplied home bar, which was usually raided by the teenager.
Like drinking seawater in the middle of the ocean, Anne couldn't stop taking swigs despite its strong sweetness melding with the itchy liquor. When the bottle had a third of its contents drained, Anne let it go at last. Just as it returned to Sasha's hands, she took it to her mouth and drank a bit more.
The evening was still warm and humid after the girls got together from their practices, barring Marcy, who just got out from her SAT trials. Their uniforms were usually the object of the gamer girl enthusiastic compliments, yet only Sasha and Anne were aware of her uncharacteristic silence. Yes, she was absorbed in her video-game as usual, although there was something different in her fixated gaze on the screen…
Anne let her thoughts sink in her enough for not noticing Sasha's free arm surrounding her shoulders. "Smooth sailing, Sash", she thought to herself, slowly but swiftly surrendering to the sweet numbness that the sherry provided.
The last quarter was offered once more to Marcy, who just put her palm to reject the makeshift flask. It was pretty unusual for Sasha to not insist her gesture towards Marcy; if Anne got roped into something, the gamer girl would also join the ordeal.
—Fine, more for me.
Which genes were making Sasha swig the punch like water? She let out an immodest burp barely after emptying the bottle, holding it on her bosom like it was her baby. A slurred, mixed attempt of a lullaby elicited a smirk on Marcy and a bewildered smile on Anne.
Snickering away her tender caring, Sasha let the bottle rest on her lap and asked:
—Hey girls… What do you… what do you wanna do for the weekend? Becaus-
An aborted burp interrupted the cheerleader train of thought. But she quickly got back on her verbal crawling:
—Because I have my house alone… You know what that means…
Marcy and Anne glanced at each other. But as the gamer girl got her attention back to her portable console, Anne was left facing Sasha while she awaited for an answer with a confident yet somewhat goofy smile.
—Mar-Mar and I… were… Are, doing an English report… And we wanted to… get it done this weekend…
Even if her eyebrows were setting into a frown, the cheerñeader's smile was kept undaunted.
—Don't worry, Anne! You know you are always welcome to do that thingy in my place!
—Who are you writing about, Sashy? Anne and I chose Tolkien and his Silmarillion saga! It's going to be so fun!
—It is quite long, tho. I barely could finish the first three chapters of my book for the past weekend.
—C'mon, Anna Banana! You can read them faster! They are so fun! When you realize that…
Marcy went on a spoiler tirade about the whole saga, which Anne and Sasha quickly dropped and glanced at each other like Charlie and Mac trying to get out of an uncomfortable dinner.
The gamer's encouragement towards the tennis player had no chagrin in her words; she tried to push Anne's right buttons. Nevertheless, her info dumping was being lost on the girls, keeping her focused in a conversation that had turned into a monologue.
Once she finally felt her mouth dry enough to stop, Sasha took advantage of it to declare:
—Look what I have here, Anne, Mar-Mar.
Unzipping her backpack, Sasha got the now emptied bottle into it and replaced it… With a second one. Cherry colored, filled to the brim and quickly shaken by the cheerleader. Then, she opened it and offered it to her friends.
—Mar-Mar, do you wanna-?
—Pass. Playing Vagabonda, Sash.
Anne's turn.
—Wanna go another round, Anne?
—Sorry, Sash… I feel like I'm gonna pass out any moment-
—C'mon, Anne. I don't wanna drink alone. Please, drink along with me, a friend that loves you.
That particular begging wasn't new for Sasha to use nor for Anne to resist, but those drunken puppy eyes made her determination and nausea waver.
—I don't know, Sashy… I would but-
The cheerleader's frown hardened and her eyes were spitting licks of brimstone.
—Grow up, Boonchuy. End. Of. Discussion.
The dryness in her throat and tongue ended up convincing her to take the bottle and give it a few swigs. Apparently, that was the signal for Marcy to walk away from the bench, under the drunken refueling of her friends.
This one was stronger. It tasted like cherry, but quickly realized that Sasha tampered with the proportions in that bottle. The alcohol kicked her uvula as hard as it could, while the sweetness saturated her throat and tongue, barely giving her some respite. But she did chug down a nice quarter under Sasha's satisfied grin.
A gag threatened to turn into heaving, but Anne was quicker to swallow whatever saliva she had stored as she passed the bottle to the cheerleader. The latter quickly took her sweet time dredging the bottle until it was half full.
—Now that's… That's the stuff! What a… warm day… isn't it?
Anne expected her friend to yield the bottle for her to keep drinking. Yet, she let it rest on her lap as she stared at the bench in front of them. Slowly, the cheerleader turned her gaze to her friend, giving her one of the weirdest glaring ever; drowsy eyelids, a crooked smile and a fixated glance into her own eyes.
—Eh… Yeah… Pretty warm…
"Are you going to drunkenly black out on me? Please, don't do this to me, Sash…"
—Sash, are you… are you ok…?
—Yeah, yeah… I'm fine… I'm fine…
More drinking from Sasha, looking away once more. Anne noticed that every swig taken wasn't pleasant anymore, forcing herself to swallow the strong punch and let it burn her throat, saturating her taste buds with cherry flavored sherry.
Was she avoiding talking about something?
"Is this about the English report? Her partner isn't somebody who wants to cross her and miss her next pool party… Stupid teacher that made us work in pairs rather than trios."
When she let the bottle down, a mere concho was all that was left of the tasty yet intense punch. A faint gesture from Sasha, who was still looking somewhere else, indicated to Anne that it was her turn to drink, to which she complied. Finishing the contents in a swift drop to her mouth, the tennis player was ready to keep inquiring about her friend's state of mind. Yet:
—Anne… Tell me… tell me something…
And there it was again; her cerulean gaze trying to drill on hers, graceful as a seagull flying over someone to steal their snack.
But Anne wasn't letting that small setback to interrupt her:
—Sash, you know I can't let Mar-Mar alone…
—No, no. It isn't… this isn't about that dumb… stupid… English… report…
Gulping saliva, Anne asked:
—What… what is it, then?
Sasha's lips curled into a tentative smile, but the glance her eyes gave to her side made Anne realize that her confidence wasn't quite sincere…
—Anne… have you ever… given a kiss?
A perplexing question. The alluded answered:
—I kissed my mom… and you guys… Why do you ask…?
Her goofy smile contrasted with Sasha's drunk smirk.
—Do you kiss your mom on the lips?
She almost choked with the bit of saliva that she tried to swallow.
—What?! No! Sasha!
Mirthing with all her teeth, the cheerleader threw her hands towards her friend's, fighting clumsily for an answer. A California forestal fire sparked on Anne's face, but Sasha was quick to say:
—I'm kidding, I'm kidding.
Hands down.
—So… you've never kissed someone else on the lips, Boonchuy?
The tennis player glanced at her with a cocky grin, leaning on one of her sides.
—I haven't, Sash. Are you an expert on the topic?
What she didn't expect was the cheerleader to deviate her gaze as her smile softened. Yet, no blush could've been seen.
—I… I had kissed like that… And it was because you took too long, Boonchuy!
The way Sasha pouted made Anne sweeten her grin. Nervously mirthing, the tennis player discussed with her friend:
—Sash! I'm so sorry, okay? That guy was totally into you… And I know his insistence was toxic, but…
The alluded rolled her eyes again from her friend.
—Not this again, Boonchuy…
—In the end… He quickly bought that thing about "displays of affection" and how uninterested you were in him…
The cheerleader deviated her hazed gaze from Anne's face.
—Yeah, I guess. That was my last boyfriend, tho…
—Was that bad, Sash?
The tennis player's hands laid on her friend's, trying to make her look at her again. The sudden glare she fired from her eyes was more hurtful than her throwing her pom-poms on Anne.
—You are the one who told everyone that crap about I'm a bad kisser, Boonchuy!
—I was just trying to help, Sash! I'm sorry if it seems to be the only way for me to break up with them on your behalf. It just… Works.
Both of them deviated their gazes from one another, as the cheerleader threw her hands off hers; Anne glanced at her shoes as if she wished to be swallowed whole by the ground, while Sasha simmered over some trees on her right, expecting for a thunder to strike her down.
Even if the evening was tropical enough to expect some rain, none of their wishes were granted. Instead, the wall of silence made them look at one another, awaiting for the other to smash it. A heavy, crawling whisper came from Sasha:
—I don't… It wasn't me the one who screwed over that kiss…
—Wha-? Say that again?
But words didn't fly over to her ears; Sasha's left arm tugging reminded her of its presence on her shoulders and a warm yet clumsy handling of her face from her cheeks were the immediate answer.
—I don't… I'm not a bad kisser, Anne…
Zombies out of their graves, her words slurred through a sweet, burdensome breath that hit the tennis player's nostrils.
What was she trying to do-?
—And… I can… Let me show you…
—Wha-?!
The blond girl shortened the distance between their lips in a daring dive until they met in a peck on her. Anne slowly thought about getting off her friend's path, but her body was numb enough to feel enticed to brunt that new experience. Before she could settle for a prolonged contact and awaiting for an eventual tongue duel, Sasha got off her, leaving the tennis player weirdly high and dry.
—How was that-?
—Was that the kiss… was that like how you kissed him…?
Anne's question made the cheerleader give a more daring adventure, this time making an effort for her lips to match hers in the chance for her to open her mouth. Even if it eventually happened, they enjoyed the way their soft petals left their imprints in each other's.
Their breaths and their hands cupping the other's cheeks gave them enough warmth to bear the cooling evening setting the stage for the real stars to take their positions. Sasha's gloss lipstick was imbued in the liquor she drank, which made Anne's first kiss something a bit more enjoyable.
Nevertheless, she couldn't stop feeling uncomfortable that her introduction to real kissing was handed by her best friend in an act of mere demonstration…
"Why… is she… Could it be…?"
Anne prodded her tongue on Sasha's teeth, to see if the cheerleader would recoil and cut the kiss or to follow her. Just like the Red Army meeting the invader at the gates of Moscow, her tongue quickly wrestled for control. It was forceful enough to make the tennis player to part from Sasha's hug and break the kiss.
The cheerleader wasn't amused at all. But she couldn't utter words for a while, frowning abreast heavy blushing spreading through her heated cheeks. Her breathing coalesced with the tennis player's, embering what was a lip bonfire
.
Anne opened her mouth to interject something about that awkward, forceful although sincere kiss, but Sasha got her words first:
—Was that… any good?
Sasha had taken her first kiss. Just to prove a point. Why did she look so dejected, embarrassed…?
Vulnerable?
—Sash, I… Why… why did you…?
She knew the answer for what she wanted to say, but Anne needed to ask another question. Sasha's hand was now on her own lap, still surrounding the tennis player's shoulders. Her hazing eyes were dams about to break, not ready to brace the impact of whatever was crashing her from Anne's behalf.
"Why me? Do you like me?" The back of her head quickly linked the punch with her intentions, quickly shutting that file drawer when the mere thought of her and Sasha being involved romantically just popped in her mind.
But her mouth uttered another thing when she glanced over the cheerleader's cheeks:
—Oh, crap! Where's Marcy?!
—Relax, Boonchuy. She couldn't have strayed too far from here-
From the frantic glances as she shook her head, Anne transitioned into a cold stare on Sasha's eyes.
—We ARE looking for her, Sasha Elizabeth Waybright!
A weird gleam crossed their eyes just after Anne threw her hands on Sasha's chest to get her off. Fear and determination twinkled in her irises and pupils, taking away the cheerleader's easiness about the whereabouts.
As Anne stood up from the bench tumbling a bit, Sasha frowned and crossed her arms. Anne followed suit, glaring at her with a drunken rage fueled by fear. When the cheerleader dared to glance back at her, she conceded:
—Fine! I'll go looking for her. Next time, bring the leash you use for Domino and put it on Mar-Mar, would you?
Groaning, Anne turned around and ran as she could towards the grove, stumbling and wobbling her steps. Sasha soon stood up and just walked towards the restrooms. Her bladder was killing her and, if she found that nerd wandering nearby, the better for her.
Luckily, Anne found Marcy in the nick of time before she fell in a pond.
That night, the tennis player didn't mind Mar-Mar nor Sash's teasing and joking, nor her parents' nagging and punishment (a month without tips).
What made her roll over her bed from tangling guts, drowning her frustrated shouts in her pillow and trying to calm her heart as her mind raced was that recurring memory of Sasha's forceful first kiss.
What would happen if she didn't tongue her so gruffly? Would she have taken the initiative if things went better?
The next day breakfast would be rocky and crud at best.