In short, kissing a naked man who had said nothing more than "ribbit" to me, while surrounded by friends in Central Park, was not high on my list of turn-ons.
But what I'd said earlier was true. He probably would die if we left him out there, and if I kissed him, it might get me off the hook for any other frog kissing that night.
"Well, here goes nothing," I muttered as I knelt next to him. This would be easier if I was drunker. Maybe we could go to a bar, then come back and finish this. But I was already here, so I might as well get it over with. It wasn't like I had to tongue-kiss him. That was fortunate. What if he'd been eating flies? Ewww.
I screwed my eyes shut, then leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the lips that landed slightly off center. Before I could back away, he grabbed my head and pulled me back for a rather more thorough kiss. After thinking about flies, I very determinedly kept my lips sealed together.
Finally, he let me go, and I couldn't stop myself from wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. Almost immediately he grabbed my hand and lavished kisses on the back of it. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you," he said, which was an improvement over "ribbit," even if he hadn't added much variety to his vocabulary.
"I owe you big-time."
"Don't mention it," I said, freeing my hand and wiping it on my skirt as I backed away from him and stood up.
He made as if to stand up, too, then glanced down at himself and noticed he was naked. "Um, well, I'm going to have to stand up now, but I'd like you all to take into consideration the fact that it's pretty cold before anyone makes any snap judgments," he said.
Isabel took off her cardigan and tossed it to him. He wrapped it around his waist, then adjusted it carefully as he stood up. It covered him completely from waist to knees. When he stepped out of the bushes and into a better lit area, I saw that he wasn't bad-looking. He was about my age, which made him a little old for a fraternity prank, and his body was nicely denned. He had shaggy blondish hair and a tattoo on one well-sculpted bicep. He looked more like a California surfer dude than like someone you'd meet in New York. Ari gave a low whistle, then elbowed Isabel.
"Why'd you have to give him the sweater?" she hissed.
"Now that you're all disenchanted, you should go home and warm up," I said brusquely. I didn't want him to think I'd kissed him for any reason other than to release him from the spell. If I'd run into him anywhere else, I might have been interested in a little flirtation, but meeting him when he thought he was a frog was just too weird for me. I vowed never again to use that old saying about kissing frogs, not now that I knew I wouldn't want anyone who used to be a frog, even if he was a prince.
"Is there a problem, ladies?" a voice asked. I whirled in shock. We hadn't been caught red-handed while molesting frogs, but standing around in the dark in the park with a seminaked man wasn't the most innocent activity. The speaker turned out to be a park ranger—a park ranger who had wings on his back and slightly pointed ears. This must be a sprite.
"This gentleman has just been disenchanted," Trix said. She and the sprite had locked eyes in a way that was entirely familiar to me, a look of intense, instant attraction. Not that I'd experienced it personally, but I'd watched it happen to friends.
"We'd better get him inside and taken care of, then," the sprite ranger said.
"I'll come with you," Trix said, fluttering her fingers at us as she took Naked Frog Guy by the arm and joined the ranger.
"It's a rebound. It'll never last," Ari opined as they disappeared into the darkness.
"You're letting him go like that?" Isabel asked me.
"Uh, yeah, looks like I am," I said.
"Why? You actually found a prince. It turns out you were right about kissing frogs."
I shuddered. "No, no, I wasn't. This is a worse way to meet men than singles' bars."
Isabel brightened. "We could go to a singles' bar."
"Not tonight," I said with a sigh. "I hate to be a wet blanket, but I'd rather just go home now."
"You're not having fun?" Isabel asked, looking and sounding worried.
"I had lots of fun, really. But it's been a long week, and it all caught up with me at once. I'm glad I came, though. Thanks for inviting me."
I must have sounded convincing, for she looked more like her usual cheerful self.
"I'm glad you had fun. We'll have to do this again sometime."
"Next time, we can skip the frogs."
She and Ari laughed. "It was your idea," Isabel said. I didn't try to argue that when I brought it up, I hadn't expected them to take me literally. I gave them a halfhearted wave and hurried up to Fifth Avenue to see if I could catch the Ml bus. One of Marcia's city safety rules was that the bus was better than the subway when you were alone at night because you could sit near the driver and you were less likely to be stuck underground with crazy people. I glanced at my watch and was surprised at how early it was. I felt like I was crawling home in the wee hours after a night of debauchery, but I'd probably beat my roommates home.
A bus showed up before long, and I climbed on board. For the first time in my life I felt like the oddball surrounded by normal people, instead of the other way around.
No matter what anyone else on the bus had done that evening, it couldn't possibly be any weirder than what I'd just done.
In the space of about a week's time, I'd gone from being perhaps the most ordinary person on this island to being one of the weirdos. I wasn't sure yet if that was an improvement.
* * *
I was rudely awakened the next morning by all the lights coming on in my bedroom and the window shade going up to let in the feeble sunlight that ventured into the air shaft. "Wake up, sleepyhead!" Gemma called out.
I pulled the covers over my head, but she pulled them back. "You don't want to sleep all day, do you?" she asked. "I've already been for a run."
I pried my eyes open to see that she was dressed in a high-fashion velour jogging suit, very similar to one Madonna had been wearing in a photo in last week's People.
"Since when do you run?" She had the kind of body that stayed fabulous without exercise. If I didn't love her so much, I'd have to hate her.
"Since I heard that Saturday morning in the park is a great place to meet buff guys."
She perched on the edge of my bed. "Not that I actually bothered running. The trick is to always look like you're about to run, or like you've just finished running. It's hard to hook up with someone while you're in the process of running."
"Did it work?"
She grinned. "Yep. I met a really hot guy, very nice, too. He had old-fashioned manners like I haven't seen since I left Texas. I don't think he was there for running, but hey, it's the results that count, not the process."
"Did you get his number?"
"Not exactly. But I did tell him where my friends and I always hang out on Saturday nights, and I invited him to drop by and join us."
I frowned. "Where do we always hang out on Saturday nights?"
"I found this cute little bar. You'll come with me tonight, won't you, Katie? Maybe he'll bring a friend."
I groaned. "I'm not sure I'm up to it."
"Oh, come on, you were already in bed when we got home. You're not hungover, are you? How much did you have to drink last night?"
"Not that much," I said, mentally calculating. Oh God, I'd been persuaded to go kissing frogs in Central Park on only three cosmos. I was such a lightweight. But my hangover was more emotional than physical. I was still freaked out by the whole frog-kissing incident.