Read Online Generation V by M. L. Brennan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: M. L. Brennan
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after all.
“I know, I’m absolutely swamped with work lately. I’m reallyglad you’re here. I wasn’t going to be able to wait up for you.” Beth had eyelashes so long and full that it looked like she’d mugged a Disney character for them, and now she batted them at me.
“Oh yeah, well, I understand,” I said, struggling to remain unmoved in the face of such eyelash action.
Beth gave me another long kiss. One of the many things I liked about her was that she was only a few inches shorter than I was, which meant that neither of us got stiff necks trying to kiss, but she was clearly abusing her easy access. “That’s why I love you, Fort,” she said, making my heart flip around in my chest. “You understand that my thesis has to be my priority right now.”
I could feel my face flush as I said, “Sure,” though I honestly would’ve preferred that her list of my lovable qualities be somewhat longer and more eloquent. Then I belatedly remembered those pesky relationship problems, and added, as seriously as I could given that she was completely wrapped around me, “But we probably should find some time to have a real talk.” I glanced around, trying to distract myself from how close she was and how long it had been since we did anything in this relationship
other
than talk, and suddenly realized that her visit had clearly brought some changes to my apartment.
“Um,” I asked hesitantly, “why is my living room filled with drums?”
“That’s what I was here for,” Beth said, letting me go and pacing around my kitchen, overcome with excitement and moral outrage as she unfolded her tale of woe. “The drumming circle is having incredible problems right now. We usually store the drums on campus, but Kyle accidentally left some of his weed in the storageroom. I mean, the campus police are being complete fascists and accusing him of being a dealer or something, which is so typical of them to jump to conclusions about, just because of how much there was and a few crybaby narcs who reported him. Then someone was a complete snitch and called those Gestapo goons to say that the entire circle was getting high on campus property during our scheduled practices, which only happened
twice
at most. So we got kicked off campus, and everyone was completely bummed, but I told them not to worry, because I knew exactly where we could store the drums until we got reinstated.”
There was a long pause while she caught her breath and I tried to take all of that in. Choosing my words carefully, I addressed the most pressing issue: “Beth, when did you join a drum circle?”
“You are so funny, babe,” Beth said, kissing me again. “This will only be for two days, tops.”
My brain had fizzled again when she kissed me, but after she pulled back it started working again and I asked, “You were smoking up on the campus? Really?” I’d never done any kind of drugs, acutely aware of the possible ramifications of what would happen if I lost the ability to self-censor my conversation, but Beth was something of a pot aficionado, and owned a number of shirts that clearly expressed her desire for its legalization.
Beth ignored the question. “I mean, maybe a week at the most.” Another synapse-fogging kiss, but this one was quick and almost distracted. “I’ve got to run. This is the last thing I needed right now, but we’re organizing a protest for tomorrow and they need me to help make the costumes.”
I shuddered at the thought of a protest. Beth had roped me into more than a few, and I was torn between being glad and concerned that for once she wasn’t asking me to participate in the fight against the establishment. Then she turned to leave and I saw the fresh hickey on the back of her neck.
Suspicion flared. “Beth, who the hell is Kyle?”
But she was already halfway out the door in a whirl of burlap purse, jingling ankle-length skirt, and cruelty-free sandals. “It’s in the college bylaws that we have to
“I know, I’m absolutely swamped with work lately. I’m reallyglad you’re here. I wasn’t going to be able to wait up for you.” Beth had eyelashes so long and full that it looked like she’d mugged a Disney character for them, and now she batted them at me.
“Oh yeah, well, I understand,” I said, struggling to remain unmoved in the face of such eyelash action.
Beth gave me another long kiss. One of the many things I liked about her was that she was only a few inches shorter than I was, which meant that neither of us got stiff necks trying to kiss, but she was clearly abusing her easy access. “That’s why I love you, Fort,” she said, making my heart flip around in my chest. “You understand that my thesis has to be my priority right now.”
I could feel my face flush as I said, “Sure,” though I honestly would’ve preferred that her list of my lovable qualities be somewhat longer and more eloquent. Then I belatedly remembered those pesky relationship problems, and added, as seriously as I could given that she was completely wrapped around me, “But we probably should find some time to have a real talk.” I glanced around, trying to distract myself from how close she was and how long it had been since we did anything in this relationship
other
than talk, and suddenly realized that her visit had clearly brought some changes to my apartment.
“Um,” I asked hesitantly, “why is my living room filled with drums?”
“That’s what I was here for,” Beth said, letting me go and pacing around my kitchen, overcome with excitement and moral outrage as she unfolded her tale of woe. “The drumming circle is having incredible problems right now. We usually store the drums on campus, but Kyle accidentally left some of his weed in the storageroom. I mean, the campus police are being complete fascists and accusing him of being a dealer or something, which is so typical of them to jump to conclusions about, just because of how much there was and a few crybaby narcs who reported him. Then someone was a complete snitch and called those Gestapo goons to say that the entire circle was getting high on campus property during our scheduled practices, which only happened
twice
at most. So we got kicked off campus, and everyone was completely bummed, but I told them not to worry, because I knew exactly where we could store the drums until we got reinstated.”
There was a long pause while she caught her breath and I tried to take all of that in. Choosing my words carefully, I addressed the most pressing issue: “Beth, when did you join a drum circle?”
“You are so funny, babe,” Beth said, kissing me again. “This will only be for two days, tops.”
My brain had fizzled again when she kissed me, but after she pulled back it started working again and I asked, “You were smoking up on the campus? Really?” I’d never done any kind of drugs, acutely aware of the possible ramifications of what would happen if I lost the ability to self-censor my conversation, but Beth was something of a pot aficionado, and owned a number of shirts that clearly expressed her desire for its legalization.
Beth ignored the question. “I mean, maybe a week at the most.” Another synapse-fogging kiss, but this one was quick and almost distracted. “I’ve got to run. This is the last thing I needed right now, but we’re organizing a protest for tomorrow and they need me to help make the costumes.”
I shuddered at the thought of a protest. Beth had roped me into more than a few, and I was torn between being glad and concerned that for once she wasn’t asking me to participate in the fight against the establishment. Then she turned to leave and I saw the fresh hickey on the back of her neck.
Suspicion flared. “Beth, who the hell is Kyle?”
But she was already halfway out the door in a whirl of burlap purse, jingling ankle-length skirt, and cruelty-free sandals. “It’s in the college bylaws that we have to
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