Free Shrimp by Rachel Cohn Page A

Billy's favorite brownie recipe."
    Honestly, Iris, join AA or something.
    I walked over to where Shrimp, Helen, Arran, and Autumn were standing. They were clinking plastic cups filled with beer and saying, "Kampei!"
    Helen said, "Hey, CC, have you met Autumn and Arran? He spells it funny--A-R-R-A-N--but feel free to just call him Aryan. He's quite the fascist pig."
    I ignored Autumn and said to Arran, "My brother's boyfriend is also Aaron, but he spells his the double-A way. Shrimp said you're a long boarder. What's that about?"
    Arran said, "Yeah, Shrimp thinks short boards are better and long boarders suck cuz so many short boarders think that even though short boarding wouldn't be around without long boarding and hello, The Endless Summer, best movie in the world!"
    Long boarding versus short boarding: Who the hell cares? I inspected Autumn while Aryan rambled on. Autumn was even prettier up close; had to hate that. She looked like one of those mixed-race girls for whom every best piece of DNA from a dozen different nationalities had blended together to create Dreadlocked Girl with Unaffected Supermodel Potential. Like, you could see her in some magazine perfume ad wearing your basic New York little black dress with bare feet, walking along a wet brick street of loft buildings and industrial office spaces in
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    Lower Manhattan, no makeup on, just clear lip gloss to frame those perfect full lips and fake eyelashes to make her Asian eyes even more sexy, with a posse of hot motorcycle dudes trailing after her and a caption at the bottom of the mag page reading: minimal, available in fine stores everywhere.
    The need to indulge in some munchies and settle things once and for all with Shrimp beckoned, along with the nearing-eleven-o'clock Cinderella hour. I said to Shrimp, "Do you and Wallace still keep Hot Pockets in the freezer, cuz I could really go for one right now."
    Shrimp leaned in close to me, his mouth grazing my ear, sending my heart racing. He whispered, "Don't tell Iris cuz she'll freak, but Java and I are back on meat. We've got some 7-Eleven burritos in the freezer behind the Absolut bottles. Can I tempt you?"
    SHAH!
    His hand took mine and I latched on tight, smirked at Autumn, and said g'bye to Aryan and Helen.
    I followed Shrimp down the narrow stairwell back into the house, not letting go of his hand. We arrived at the fridge and I stood against it, and just like that his body pressed against mine, and the kiss, the We're Officially Back On kiss, was close to happening, when Wallace came through the door.
    "Hey, kids," he chirped. He was wearing Delia's rhinestone tiara on his head. My gaze at him was so quick and sweet and innocent, but enough for Shrimp to step back from me. Wallace stepped between us, reaching into the freezer to pull out a frozen Absolut bottle. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Wallace teased. I was not thinking
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    about how grabilicious Java's, I mean Wallace's, wet suit-covered butt looked as he walked away--really.
    Once Wallace was gone I pulled Shrimp back toward me. The new and improved Jumbo Shrimp had all this--how you say?--; girth that I was dying to savor, but Shrimp leaned back from me. He said, "I think we should just be friends."
    Desperation Girl forgot all about the play-hard-to-get memo, and she moved in for that kiss anyway, full-throttle tongue, one hand massaging the back of his neck, the other straying to the center of his body. His mouth tasted like the old Shrimp, like espresso and Pop Tarts, for the few seconds he let me taste him before pulling back.
    "I don't know that I'm ready for the craziness again," he mumbled.
    The need to grind against him, through him, with him, taste more of his kisses, threatened to overwhelm me. "But the artwork!" I panted. You don't send a girl drawings from below the equator, pictures illustrating your extreme longing for her, unless you want her, bad.
    "I didn't say I didn't want to not get back together," he said. Huh? I hate