Frankie awoke with that damned leech-kiss resting on her cheek. She rubbed it vigorously, still feeling the wetness against her skin. The thing had been placed right below her cheekbone (closer to the jaw rather than the lips), held for approximately three seconds, and bequeathed to her by MrMiscellaneous -- some boy in a Timberwolves jersey with a Chrome bag (obviously experiencing some identity crisis).
She cringed as she recalled the heat radiating from those revolting lips and that forgettable face so close to her own (what a foreign concept!) and that stupid gaze of admiration. She cringed remembering that disturbingly romantic loss of vision and that short moment between the proposal and the carry-through. She cringed because Jesus! How repulsive, awful, intriguing it was to be so desired!
She had been left with two choices: somehow be flattered and strategically tilt her head towards MrMisc or move on and get the fuck away. She, of course, had decided on the latter and took a final glance at her terrible suitor, imagining the day when she could exclaim (in a markedly refined manner), "O, how blessed I am to have fallen in love!"
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fantastic
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