Don't Kiss Girls and Other Silly Stories by Pat Flynn Page B

count to 50 to take my mind off the flavour. At 32 I can’t stand it any longer so I fake a coughing fit.
    â€˜Are you all right?’ she asks, patting me on the back.
    â€˜I just need a drink.’
    She hands me the glass and I take a mouthful – swirling it around and around – washing the bad taste away. I pr etend to have a second mouthful but carefully backwash the first mouthful into the glass. Hey, I want to save it all for Ashleigh. I pass her the drink.
    â€˜Thanks, lover.’ She has a sip. ‘Mmm. This is good. Very minty.’ She takes another swig, and then skols the whole cup! ‘Now, where were we?’
    We kiss again and I get ready for the worst. But she tastes better. Heaps better. The mouthwash has blocked all the bad germs; it’s like I’m pashing a piece of chewing gum.
    I hear something but don’t take much notice. I’m having too much fun.
    Brrrbbb.
    That’s weird, I think. It sounds a bit like my stomach after too much of Mum’s curry, except I didn’t have any curry tonight.
    Blaaahhhh!
    Something rushes into my mouth. Something hot and wet, and it’s not Ashleigh’s tongue.
    â€˜Oh my God!’ she says. She jumps up and runs out of the room, a hand covering her face.
    No, it couldn’t be … I swish some around, like one of those wine-tasting dudes.
    OH
    MY
    GOD!
    Ashleigh’s just spewed in my mouth.
    I get up and run, looking for somewhere – anywhe re – to spit out her spew. The door to the bathroom is closed; Ashleigh must be in ther e. I turn around and see a fishbowl. No, that’s no good. It’s too far away.
    I run into the kid’s room and head straight for the window. I try to yank it open. It doesn’t budge. I try again but it’s stuck. Then I see why. There’s a switch that says ‘Child Lock’.
    I’d swear, but my mouth’s full of vomit. This is one time I’d gladly take my mum’s advice and wash my mouth out with soap. I do my best to flick the child lock switch but I can’t figure it out. When I turn around the kid’s looking at me, smiling. I run towards him.
    Blaaahhhh!
    The kid’s white sheets have just turned green. For a second his eyes go big, like flying saucers.
    And then he starts laughing.
    *
    Ashleigh and I sit on the couch. For the first time since we became a couple, none of our body parts are touching.
    I put on my most sensitive voice. ‘It’s not you, it’s me. I’m just not ready for a girl like you. I think you’re too good.’
    Her eyes narrow into slits. ‘And it has nothing to do with my new braces?’
    â€˜Of course not.’
    â€˜Or the fact that I … threw up in your mouth?’
    â€˜No, no, no,’ I say. ‘How could you even think such a thing? It’s just not working out between us, babe. I’m sorry.’
    I put on my sad face, the same one I use during meetings between me, my mum and the deputy principal.
    Ashleigh gives me a piercing look. ‘What did you put in that drink, anyway?’
    Before I can think up a good lie, the front door swings open.
    â€˜Have a good night?’ asks Mr O’Connor. Ashleigh and I don’t answer.
    Mrs O’Connor goes straight in to check on the kid.
    â€˜I’m sure it was better than ours,’ Mr O’Connor continues. ‘The singing was terrible and the wine tasted like vomit.’
    Mrs O’Connor comes out. ‘Joshua seems okay, although ther e’s green stuff all over his bed. Was he sick?’
    â€˜Umm. We didn’t notice,’ I say. ‘He didn’t yell out or anything.’
    She stares at us for a moment, then her face softens. ‘It’s okay, he’s fine now. Perhaps you sweethearts were too busy kissing.’
    She gives us a smile. I don’t smile back.
    Mrs O’Connor hands Ashleigh some money, and Mr O’Connor takes us home. Ashleigh and I sit in