Mistakes Were Made

by Meryl Wilsner

“If I return the compliment, are you just going to say, ‘I know,’ again?”

before reminding herself that curiosity killed the cat, and enough pussy had been wrecked already that night.

“So you made out with my brother because you were sexually frustrated about Parker’s mom?”

She’d always wanted to fly. As a kid, she’d spent entire summers outside, sunup to sundown. She climbed every tree she could. She rode her bike, a little farther each time, until she knew every street in a ten-mile radius of their town. It was about freedom, and going fast, and getting away.

“You can’t fuck Parker’s mom while you’re staying with her for winter break.” “I’m aware of that, Acacia.” “But you’re going to want to, like, the whole time you’re there.” Cassie was aware of that, too.

“Just don’t fuck Parker’s mom.” She paused, then added, “Again.” Cassie groaned.

Acacia stared at her for so long Cassie had to remind her to watch the road. “She fucked your boyfriend so you get to fuck her mom?” “Yeah,” Cassie said, because that only seemed fair, right? “Quid pro quo.” “That’s not how that works.”

Cassie could absolutely be an adult. A good guest. A good friend, who didn’t sleep with her friends’ moms, no matter how hot they were.

All she knew was it felt dangerous every time their eyes met. Like a lit match. Their eye contact was combustible.

Some days her life was a thundercloud following her around—all of her mistakes, every moment wasted on something she didn’t actually want, the way she still cared too much about her mom’s disapproving voice even though it no longer existed anywhere but in the back of her mind. But some days—this day—everything was blue sky. Like there were wings on her shoulders instead of the weight of the world.