He’ll be here in a few.
To kiss.
And I’m pretty sure I have lunchmeat stuck in my teeth.
I cup my hand in front of my face to do a breath check then pull a face at the stench.
“Well, that smells lovely,” I mutter to myself, deliberating if I want to go brush my teeth or not. It would be kind of funny to kiss him with rancid lunchmeat breath. It’d be a good revenge for all those times he teased me and annoyed the hell out of me. But he was nice to me yesterday …
“Dammit,” I mumble as my conscience gets the better of me again and I drag my butt upstairs to brush my teeth. I don’t bother cleaning up or fixing my hair, though. I will not be that girl who gets all fussy about their looks just because a guy is coming over.
By the time I’ve brushed and rinsed my mouth with mouthwash, my phone is buzzing in my pocket. I fish it out, confused as to why someone is calling. And I become even more confused when I see that it’s West calling me.
Maybe he’s calling to cancel.
Maybe it’s good that he is.
“What’s up?” I say, trying to sound more casual than I feel.
“Nothing. I’m just calling to let you know I’m parked out front.”
“Oh, okay.” But that still doesn’t explain why he randomly called instead of texting.
“Why do you sound so confused right now?” he asks curiously.
I lean against the bathroom counter. “It’s just weird that you called. I mean, usually we just text.”
“Yeah. I know.” He gives a short pause. “I just figured it might be a little more gentleman-like of me to call instead of text, considering we’re about to make out.”
“If you say so.” My voice sounds smooth, but I’m a mess on the inside.
Shit is getting real. And I don’t do real. I run from real.
“Wow, I thought you’d be impressed by that,” he teases.
I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see me. “Well, you didn’t.”
He chuckles. “Damn, I guess I’m going to have to do something more impressive then.”
“Why’re you trying to impress me at all? This isn’t like a date or anything. Just you popping my cherry with this whole kissing thing.”
The line grows quiet.
“Hello?” I wonder if he hung up.
“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “So, are you gonna come out? Or just keep procrastinating?”
He’s acting weird, even for him. Twitchy. Like Zhara was earlier.
Maybe he has a secret, too. Maybe everyone does.
Just like you.
“Are you sure you still want to do this?” I check. “Because we don’t have to.” Because I’m not fully sure I can do this.
“Yeah, of course I want to.” He sounds uncertain, though, and I’m about to suggest that maybe we don’t do this when he says, “Come on, get your cute butt out here. We’ve got kissing to do.” Then he hangs up, giving me no time to back out, as if he knew that’s what I was going to do.
And I want to. In fact, maybe I should. Maybe I’m not ready for this. I just found out about Masie and Blaine yesterday. Not to mention I almost got arrested yesterday, too. Maybe all of that is messing with my head and making me not see clearly, like the I-don’t-give-a-shit Alexis.
But see what clearly exactly? That my longtime crush and my BFF are together now, even though my BFF knew I had a crush on him? That my crush knows I like him? That I’ve now basically lost everything connected to the Before?
No, I’m going to do this. I need to do this.
So, sucking it the hell up, I leave the bathroom to go outside and kiss my frenemy.
13
Alexis
West is leaning against the car when I walk out, dressed in black jeans, a matching T-shirt, and black boots. With how dark it is outside, I can barely make most of him out, except for his blond hair that almost looks white against the moonlight. I can’t see his expression until I make my way across the front lawn and stop in front of him. Only then do I realize he looks nervous. He also looks a bit tired. Or, well, maybe hungover.
That realization brings a drop of relief to me—that I’m not the only one who’s nervous. But then I start to overanalyze the cause behind the nervousness.
Maybe he really doesn’t want to do this.
I mentally shake my head at myself. Stop overthinking this. Stop obsessing about a guy. You did that with Blaine and look where it got you.
Awkward silence stretches between us, filled up by the chirping of crickets and my next-door neighbor belting out the lyrics to a rock song from his front porch, something he does whenever he’s drunk.
“Hey,” he greets me with a small smile. Then his gaze briefly flicks to my house before landing back on me. “Can you take a walk with me? Or is that going to get you in trouble?” His lips quirk. “Or should I say more trouble?”
I roll my eyes but relax. I can handle a joking West. It’s when he gets nervous that throws me off balance.
“I’m good,” I say. “I think Loki’s asleep. Honestly, I don’t know if he’d even care. He’s in one of his moods where he’ll barely talk to me.”
He nods for me to follow him as he starts down the sidewalk, heading to who knows where. “I wish my parents would ignore me whenever they got pissed at me.”
I walk beside him with my arms wrapped around myself. Goosebumps sprout across my flesh, and while I want to play it off as the air being chilly, the spring air in Honeyton is warm and slightly damp.
“Do they yell at you a lot?” I ask as we reach the street corner. “Because your mom doesn’t seem like much of a yeller, but you told me once that they yell at each other, so …”
“She’s not much of a yeller.” He stares down the road so I can’t see his face, but I detect a slight shift in his voice. “She’s more of a hand-the-problem-over-to-my-dad sort of person.”
I know West well enough to know he’s not a huge fan of his dad’s. Although, I’m not exactly sure why.
“You and your dad don’t get along very well, right?” I ask, stuffing my hands into my pockets.
He shakes his head and starts across the street with me following right beside him. “Not really … I know everyone in this town thinks he’s this great guy, and he is to almost everyone else except his family.”
“Yeah, I remember how you told me he treats your mom like shit, that he yells at her all the time.” I hop onto the curb as we reach the other side of the road.
He glances at me from the corner of his eye, his expression unreadable. “You know, you’re the only person I’ve ever told that to.”
“I think you told me because we were drunk. You get super chatty when you drink too much. Seriously, you’re worse than Masie.” I flash him a smirk.
His eyes widen in mock shock. “You so did not say that.”
I grin. “I totally did. And I’d totally say it again.”
He gives me a devious grin. “Yeah, well, at least whenever I see a spider, I don’t scream in a more high-pitched voice than Masie does when she’s whining. Seriously, it’s like you’re trying to be her doppelganger or something.”
I blast him with a nasty look. “My scream isn’t that high pitched. And spiders are freakin’ scary. With all those legs and those eyes and …” I shudder, just thinking about it, and he totally laughs at me.
I pretend to glare at him then smirk. “Yeah, well, at least I don’t freak out whenever I get a zit and almost start crying about it.”
“That happened one time,” he argues, holding up a finger and biting back a smile. “And I didn’t almost cry. I was just annoyed that I got a zit right before my date with Stasha Mellingferd.”
“Aw, yeah, the Stasha phase,” I remark musingly. “Dude, you were so obsessed with her back in the day.”
“Yeah, until I went on a date with her.”
“Yeah, what happened with that anyway?” I cast him a sidelong glance. “I mean, she was all you talked about fres
hman year. Then you finally went on a date with her and never talked about her again. I don’t think you two even look at each other anymore.” I let a smirk tug at my lips. “It was the zit, wasn’t it? Did it like pop on her while you two were making out?”
He pulls a disgusted face. “Hell no! That is just …” His face contorts with disgust again. “You’re seriously so gross sometimes.”
I shrug. “Would you rather me act like Masie and be a lady? Because that’s not gonna happened.”
He shakes his head, strands of hair falling into his eyes. “God no. Don’t ever act like her.”
I arch my brow. “Even if it means you have to hear me say nasty things?”
He gently nudges my shoulder with his. “I’d rather hear you talk about zits popping than listen to Masie prattle on about her hair and makeup and who’s dating who. Whenever she opens her mouth, I feel like I lose some of my brain cells.”
If this were a couple of days ago, I’d jump in and defend my best friend. But this isn’t a couple of days ago. This isn’t the Before. The Before is gone and now all I have is the Nothing. And in the Now, I don’t really know who I am anymore. But what I do know is I don’t want to defend Masie anymore.
“You should hear her talk about shoes,” I say as we slow to a stop in front of the park located in the middle of the subdivision.
West stuffs his hands into his pockets. “I’d rather not.”
“Yeah, me neither.” I waver, considering something. “I guess I won’t have to anymore.” I’m not sure how I feel about that statement, but I try not to feel anything.
As the air between us grows quiet, a bit of pity fills his eyes underneath the moonlight.
I don’t want him to look at me that way.
Don’t want to be pitied.
I change the subject as I start to squirm. “So, why’re we at the park?”
He studies me momentarily before turning his gaze off me and staring out at the swing set and slide. “I just thought this might be the best place to have some privacy while we”—he chews on his lip, his gaze returning to me—“make out.”
It’s the first time he’s said it while I’m standing right here with him. If I thought listening to him talk about it on the phone was uncomfortable, I was wrong.
This is so much more uncomfortable.
“We’re not making out,” I insist. “Just kissing.” But that doesn’t sound any better.
Making out or kissing, they both require us to press our lips together. And what even is the difference between kissing and making out? The fact that I don’t know makes me seem so lame. God, what I would give to go back in time and not center all my crush energy on a guy who didn’t want me. Maybe then I would’ve kissed someone already and wouldn’t be here, about to fake kiss a guy who I’ve always thought of as a frenemy.
“You’re so fucking ugly,” Jay whispers. “Do everyone a favor and off your fucking ugly ass.”
Panic clutches my throat.
What am I doing here? Why the hell am I not tougher than this—
West suddenly presses his lips against mine.
Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.
West is kissing me. His lips are touching mine.
I jerk back, my heart slamming so forcefully that I swear it’s going to jump out of my chest and run. And I don’t blame it. It’s exactly what I want to do.
“Why did you do that?” I ask, cringing at the shakiness of my tone. “You should’ve warned me before you did it.”
He lifts his eyelids and smashes his lips together, taking a beat before answering. “You looked like you were gonna run, and I thought if I warned you that I was going to do it, you would.”
“Well, I wasn’t,” I lie, staring over at the swings and picnic tables to avoid looking at the intensity flowing off him.
My heart is racing in my chest, all over the place just like mind and emotions.
His hands are all over me…
“You’re so fucking ugly.”
“Okay.” He sounds doubtful. “Well, at least we got it over with.”
I start to relax, turning my head toward him when he steps toward me.
“I’m gonna kiss you,” he warns this time, lifting his palm to my cheek.
“Again?” I squeak then hurry and clear my throat. What the hell was that? “But we already did it.”
His lips quirk and I expect him to make fun of my squeaking, but all he does is wink at me and say, “That wasn’t a kiss, baby.”
I quirk a brow and hold up my hands in front of me. “Baby? Are you freakin’ kidding me?”
“What?” He gives an innocent shrug. “I’m just practicing for when we start fake dating.”
I roll my eyes. “Or you can just call me by my name.”
“Sounds good.” But his smile lets me know that annoying trait’s going to manifest again during out little fake relationship.
He falls silent again, looking at me with a contemplative expression. “I’m going to kiss you again,” he says then starts to lean in. “Don’t jerk back this time or we’re never going to get anywhere.”
As he nears my lips, my heart does that stupid thing again where it slams against my chest. I want to move back. I want to run. Yet I find myself remaining motionless as he nears—
I gasp as his lips brush mine then I cringe at the noise, waiting for West to make fun of me. But all he does is release an uneven breath before touching his lips against mine again. He stays that way for a second, and I start to think we’re going to keep this strictly a no-frenching thing when he suddenly sweeps his tongue into my mouth. And just like that, West and I are kissing. Or, well, making out, because I’m pretty sure this is different from when he just pressed his lips against mine. That felt more like a kiss.
If you’d asked me earlier if this was how the night was going to go, I would’ve laughed in your face. I never thought something like this would happen, and part of me thinks I should pull away and end this potential mess right now.
But for some reason, I don’t.
My heart is soaring in my chest and my mind is racing so swiftly I can barely think straight. But when West deepens the kiss, slipping his fingers through my hair, all my thoughts just sort of float away. Then he presses his other hand against my back and pulls me closer, kissing me even deeper. Suddenly, I realize that, like spray-painting, kissing can also be a great mind distracter. All I can think about is his tongue tangling with mine, the heat of his body as he gently presses me against him, and how good it feels as he plays with my hair.
This isn’t as scary as I thought.
It’s not like that day.
It’s not like anything.
I get so lost in all the sensations that I’m not even aware that he moves us farther into the park until my back bumps against the edge of something.
I startle, slightly pulling away and glancing behind me, realizing I’m now standing by a picnic table.
Confused, I twist back to face him, about to ask him why he moved us over here. But before I can get words to leave my tingling lips, he wraps his hands around my waist, picks me up, and sets me down on the table. Then he moves between my legs and seals his lips to mine again.
I kiss him back, my hands unconsciously wandering to his shoulders as I grip on to him and bite his bottom lip between my teeth. I don’t even know what drives me to do it, but I assume he likes it since he lets out a soft moan. Then he urges me closer to him, returning one of his hands to my hair again, combing through the strands until my head tips back. Then he moves his lips from mine to trail kisses down my chin to my neck.
I stare up at the stars, my mind racing, but a cloud of confusion muddles the thoughts. I can’t think of anything but the way his lips travel across my neck, the way he gently grazing his teeth along my skin—
My phone buzzes from inside my pocket. At first, I ignore it as West returns his lips to mine. But then it buzzes again. And again.
Sucking back a shaky breath, I pull b
ack, my insides feeling all jittery, like I just drank too much coffee.
Reality quickly settles in as my phone continues to go off in my pocket.
Oh my God, I just made out with West!
West slowly opens his eyes, little airy breaths leaving his lips. “Everything okay?” He seems uncertain again, which is weird since he seemed so confident while he was kissing me. In fact, he basically did everything.
God, I’m so lame.
“You’re so ugly. A freak.”
And just like that, everything comes rushing back.
“Yeah, my phone’s just going crazy,” I say with a shrug, luckily managing not to sound as shaky as I feel.
Struggling to breathe evenly, I dig my phone out, telling myself to get it together. That it was just a kiss. No big deal. And it was a fake kiss at that.
My fingers tremble a bit as I tap open my text messages.
“Is it Loki?” West asks, playing with strands of my hair absentmindedly.
I might overanalyze how weird it is that he still has his hand in my hair if it weren’t for the texts on my phone.
Unknown: I know a secret of yours.
Unknown: And it’s not about your crush on Blaine.
Unknown: It has to do with all those pretty paintings you’ve been putting up all over town.
Unknown: Did you enjoy getting in trouble for the one last night? Maybe I should turn you in for all your artwork.
I swallow hard as I read the texts. So this is the person who turned me in?
But who is it? Some random person? Someone I know?
Jay?
And that might not be my only problem since I think West just saw the texts.
My suspicions are confirmed when he cocks a brow at me. “So, you are the one who’s been doing that.”
I swallow hard then quickly put on my mask, giving an indifferent shrug. “You sound like you already guessed that.” How, I don’t have a damn clue, but it makes me nervous.
Those words I wrote were personal, and now he and whoever just sent me those texts apparently know that.
I gently push him back, hop off the table, and start to walk off.
Accepting the Deal (Honeyton Alexis): (Signed with a Kiss, #1) Page 11
