Warrior Blue

by Kelsey Kingsley

"I only do originals," she mocked in a deeper voice. "Oh, wait, what was that? That is one of mine? Oops. My bad, har har."

I snorted and tipped my head back to assess the popcorn ceiling. "Can't spell Blake without bleak," I muttered under my breath.

Tonight, I'd read, and I'd let myself be proud for that, too.

But am I not still human? Am I not still a metaphorical butterfly? A butterfly, but in reverse.

If I believed in a heaven, I could've been convinced that she'd fallen, an angel with fractured wings.

Darkness and light. Hell and Heaven. Evil and good. Standing there, I then felt the analogy applied to us as well. Her, in pink and denim. Me, in black and nothing but. Her, wearing the symbol of Christ. Me, wearing the anger of the damned.

I gaped at her. "You're giving me homework now?" "Yes." Her mouth lifted in a little smile. "I want you to find Audrey and ask her out." I gawked at this smirking woman. "What the fuck? Why would I do that?" "Because you like her." "That's a stupid fucking reason," I grumbled with a roll of my eyes.

"Messy can still be beautiful."

Of everything I’d drank the night before, I could safely say my hangover wasn't derived from the alcohol. The sex, maybe. The girl, absolutely. But not the alcohol.

AS LUCK WOULD have it, Audrey was a horrible singer. Absolutely horrendous. Yet, she didn’t seem to give a rat’s ass about the fact she sounded like a dying cat in heat, as she ironically sang along to Madonna’s “Like A Virgin” from the passenger seat of my car.

I have never backed away from a woman as quickly as I did at the sound of Freddy’s horrified disgust. I turned to face the mirror, away from his view, to hide the obvious erection in my jeans as I prayed to a god I didn’t believe in. Dear fucking god, get rid of this boner, amen.