Dirty Kisses

by Addison Moore

  “I’m sorry, but that line isn’t getting any smaller. People are getting pissed. Maybe you can come back?”

  “I don’t care about those people. I need these notebooks now.” I cut a quick glance to the growing crowd and spot a tall, dark, tatted nightmare with his sweet little sis.

  Gah! I spin back around. “Look, just take this other stuff off.” I start pulling the scarves to the side and the cute polish in university themed colors, the sweats, the shoes—then quickly move the shoes back to the must-have pile and pull out the colored-pencils. What am I, three?

  She begins the transaction over again to a choir of ah, come on!

  I wince in lieu of facing the taunts of my peers. “Can’t you open another register?” I whisper loud enough for the dipstick standing behind her to hear.

  “Only Loretta has the key.” She shrugs, picking up my scarf once again, and this time trying it on for size.

  Beast.

  “It’s still not working.” The girl with the pug nose, Loretta, tries to slide it over to me, and I slide it right back. “Do it again. This time just the books.”

  “Is there a problem?” a dark, deeply delicious voice calls from behind, and as much as my body begs to freeze from horror, I’m heated to the bone at the sound of that smooth, velvet voice. Without bothering to try, I imagine him saying those magic words to me once again, and that tender spot between my thighs starts in on a quiver.

  “Shit,” I hiss, stuffing my credit card back into my purse. “I’ll pick these things up later.” I glare at the girls behind the counter before zipping toward the door.

  “Whoa.” Jet steps in front of me, effectively blocking the exit, and it’s almost impossible for me to meet up with his gaze. “Where’s the fire?”

  “Between my legs if you must know.” I try to sidestep him, but he’s right there with me. “By the way, in the event you didn’t get the memo, we speak no evil if you get my drift.” I glance down to that unnatural bulge in his jeans in the event it’s not clear as wicked crystal.

  He folds those massive arms across his chest, and I catch an array of shapes and sizes inked into his skin that I quickly memorize to sort out later.

  “Evil, huh?” He huffs at the idea. “I thought you might be leaning more toward heavenly. Looks like I might need to invoke another round to convince you otherwise.”

  “Right. Try that, and I’ll be invoking a restraining order.”

  “Hey!” His sister pops up, a feminine, far prettier version of him, and her features smooth out a moment. “Who do you think you are, threatening him with a restraining order?”

  Jet turns to her, and I take that as my cue to make a dash for the exit. No sooner do I hit the fresh air outside than I take a moment to catch my breath. That cologne of his is still wrapped around me like a coat. It’s the kind that sticks to your skin, clings to your hair. I should know. I couldn’t wash his scent off me this morning no matter how much I scalded myself. All day he’s been as good as on me as he is in me for that matter. Suffice it to say, the ghost of his male member is still very much alive inside my body. It’s as if I’ve walked around with a giant dildo cast out of Jet Madden’s man parts lodged deep inside of me. A part of me wanted to go to the student health department to see if there was actually something wedged up in there. But the last thing I want is a team of student physicians gawking at my recently battered nether regions.

  Piper shoots me a quick text letting me know they’re at Hallowed Grounds. A swell of relief fills me at the sight. I don’t need to see a doctor. All I need is a decent cup of coffee with my friends.

  I run all the way to the Hallowed Grounds Café to find Cassidy’s pale arm waving me to the back where she’s seated with Piper and Scarlett in a woodsy area surrounded by overgrown houseplants that reach the ceiling, and, for once, I’m thankful to be cast into the unknowable corner lost in its fake flora and fauna. I’ve never been a fan of that murky area of the café before, and now that I realize how much anonymity it offers, I’m all for planting a jungle all over this damn school.

  I fall into my seat with a huff, and Jet’s ghost appendage jabs me from the inside.

  “I hope you’re all having a better day than I am.” I take a quick swig from Scarlett’s iced latte.

  “Forget about us.” Piper reaches across the table and gives my hand a quick tug. “What’s going on with you? Did you ever talk to your family?”

  “No. God no. My brothers and I have sent a few texts back and forth. They’re pretty sure I won’t be doing an internship at their firm anytime soon. I had one set up for winter break, but they said maybe next summer. It turns out, being the other woman in a political sex equation is tantamount to career suicide—especially if your indiscretion involves both politics and the legal system.”

  “That sucks big ones.” Cassidy looks as if she’s about to be sick. “Oh, hon, all you need is for that old jackass to admit that nothing went on. And for the love of all things holy and right, how did you get mixed up with him anyway?”

  My eyes enlarge at the thought of her wily sister putting me on “set it and forget it” mode and nary bothering to return my texts. Actually, she did. Caila sent a rather irritating message, brief and to the point much like her—we’ll talk.

  “Let’s just say I sort of fell into the situation without meaning to.” I can’t believe I’m covering for the princess of the pole. Quite frankly, I’m shocked none of my friends have done the Stilettos plus Caila Jace math.

  “Never mind that.” Scarlett threads her arm through mine and scoots in with her red hair bouncing between us like flames. “Move back into the dorm. I miss you.”

  “Are you nuts? It’s bad enough I’m out in quasi-public with you.” I duck a little to better shield myself in the sea of faux green. Those stalkarazzi are sneaky little suckers. The female versions have followed me into the restroom twice, asking questions and not about toilet paper. “That’s sweet of you, but there’s no way I’m gunning to kill both of our legal careers before they ever get started. The Internet holds no secrets.”

  Cassidy winces because she knows how right I am.

  “My name and likeness are now available for every future employer to Google until kingdom come.” My voice breaks as I say it. “Face it, I’ve been branded the Bologna Bopper. Senator Dingleberry is officially tied around my neck like a sexual millstone, and I’ve sunk. There’s no recuperating from this.”

  “You seem rather accepting.” Piper leans in, suspicious, as if I’m trying to hide something.

  “I’m not accepting any of it. Believe me, if I do accept any of this bull, you’ll find me in a fetal position sucking my thumb.”

  Cassidy sniffs back tears, and the wound in my heart lances right back open at the sight. Here I am, undone by my own rotten circumstances, and she’s taking the emotional bullet. I want to weep right along with her, but once I start I won’t know how the hell to stop.

  “Is Jet okay—you know, with you staying there?” she says it so sweetly, her Tennessee accent so thick, I just want to linger in it all night long.

  “He seems to be fine with it.” More than fine. That boy should write every last one of my pink parts a thank you letter.

  Piper narrows her eyes to slits. “Is he taking good care of you?”

  “Oh, he’s taking care of me all right.” I swallow hard as memories of that dirty, luscious fucking run through my mind. That sounds so crude a part of me wants to shudder, but, really, I’m pretty sure there’s no other way to describe what happened last night. “He’s made sure my needs come first.” Quite literally.

  Scarlett nods, resigned to the fact she’s been replaced as my roomie with over two hundred pounds of muscular Sheetrock. “Well, if you need anything, we’re here for you.”

  “Thank you. But I’m a little sick of having the spotlight. Tell me anything to get my mind off of this. What’s new with you guys?”

  Scarlett sheds a greedy grin. “Rex and I actually managed to
get two classes together, which makes me unreasonably happy. If you would have told me a year ago Rex and I would be where we are now, I would have happily used your likeness for target practice. It’s surreal how you can go from literally disliking someone—strongly—to realizing your feelings were just misplaced. It’s insanity.” She hardens her eyes over mine a moment as if sending a personal message, and I laugh.

  “Don’t get any ideas about that walking beef on a stick and me. That boy is a mechanical horse any girl can ride for less than a quarter.” I try to laugh off those heated memories of last night, but they just keep coming in jags, getting me hot and bothered in all the wrong places. Don’t fight it. My face heats like the surface of the sun at the memory.

  Scarlett inches back in surprise. “I’m not the one who brought up Jet. You are.” She gives a little wink.

  “How about you, Cass?” I refuse to give that tat-rat another ounce of energy. “You get anything with Cade?”

  “Nope. But he’s promised to help me with a few of my business classes. He’s the greatest tutor ever. Those study sessions at his place really do end with a bang.” She pulls her straw from her drink and flicks me in the face with the remnants of her iced mocha. “As for you—don’t go banging up your new roomie, hon. You’re too emotionally raw. That boy might be offering rides for less than a quarter, but your heart is worth a million times more. Resist temptation, my sister. Jet Madden is known for one thing among the ladies, and I’ll give you a hint. It has nothing to do with those designer tats he’s doling out down at Think Ink. Don’t add insult to injury. According to Cade, that boy isn’t looking for a relationship. He’s in full fucking mode—pardon my French—and I’d hate to see you get caught up in the sticky web of his mattress. Do both your heart and your body a favor. Resist temptation. Stay strong, girl.”

  “Oh, I will.” Starting tonight. God, I’m such an idiot. Cassidy is right. I’ve fallen into Jet Madden’s sticky-icky mattress web. God, were the sheets even clean? Disgusting. How could I be so weak?

  Piper squirms in her seat. “Well, my classes are great. Owen and I actually have a class together, too, so that’s pretty cool. What’s not cool is the fact his little sister, Ava, is outright trying to avoid me. I saw her in the bookstore, and she literally ducked behind a shelf and made a clean getaway. Owen thinks the best thing I can do is give her some breathing room.”

  “I’m on it.” I lift a finger. “I’ve always wanted a little sister. I just know I can be a good influence on her.”

  All six pairs of eyes stare agog at my ridiculous declaration.

  “What I mean is, I can give great advice when it comes to boys. Believe it or not, I’m quite conservative.”

  Again, all eyes feast on me as if I’ve just sprouted horns and a tail, and I may as well have. Dancing at Stilettos? Dating the senator for dollars—through what might amount to a hooker hookup no less? Taking a ride on the Jet Madden Orgasm Express? Yes, it is safe to say I’m quite conservative—when it comes to making good decisions.

  We finish up by way of depressing ourselves with the sheer amount of papers we need to write this semester before we formally disband to the four corners of the Earth.

  Cassidy is the last to leave, and I pull her back by the sleeve a moment. “Hey, how’s your sister doing?” It requires far more of my superpowers than anticipated to project those words in a civilized manner.

  “She’s great!” Her eyes light up at the mention of her lookalike. “She’s got a new routine down at the club, and I’m just dying to see it. Maybe we could make a night of it sometime.”

  Cassidy’s support of her sister baring both of their physical assets is the epitome of unconditional love. For most people, a stripping sister would be a dirty skeleton in the familial closet. And that’s exactly what I’ve been to my own family, minus the closet. My dirty little skeleton is rattling around in the open for all to see. I’ve become a grievous wound to my family, one that may never ever heal.

  “I think I’ll just go down there soon on my own.” There’s no way Caila is going to fess up to any wrongdoing in front of Cassidy. “Hopefully, they’ll let me get a few hours in.”

  “They will.” She pulls me into a brief hug before taking off. “It’ll all work out. I promise!” she shouts as she hits the exit.

  I’d like to think so, but Cassidy’s Mary Sunshine attitude can only get me so far. Reality has me by the ugly jagged teeth and has no intention of ever letting go.

  I sit back down and scroll through my text messages. There’s one from Tiffany Ikeman—not a group message this time—and my ears pique with both interest and fear. Tiffany approached both Scarlett and me last month about joining the WB Legal Eagles, a pre-law fun club that’s supposed to look great on our law school apps.

  Been thinking about your inclusion. I’m sorry, but it might be a bit of a distraction.

  “No, no, no!” Crap. Why should I back down from my life when, last I checked, the senator is back to corroding Washington politics?

  A text from my oldest brother, Nelson. Keep your chin up, kid. Focus on school. Avoid the radar, and stay the hell out of trouble. It’ll be okay. Jonas says hello.

  Right. Jonas also used the F word in a text to me earlier and told me to lay low for the next four years. Nelson always was one to paint a rosier picture than necessary. A kind endeavor on his part.

  And one message from a number with an area code outside of Hollow Brook. Is this the same one from earlier? I mean it. If you ever need anyone to talk to, I’m here for you.

  Huh. Right. But still, probably the press.

  I text right back. Second verse same as the first. Fuck off, asshole!

  No sooner do I get up to leave than I bump into a familiar freshman brunette. “Ava! I’m not sure if you remember me, but I’m Owen’s friend.” Technically, I’m Piper’s friend, but there’s no way I’m even mentioning my hotheaded buddy. “You look so much like your brother it’s just crazy.” Crazy seems to be the theme of this new school year in general.

  She offers a complacent smile before heading to the counter and putting in her order.

  “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have a minute to do a quick sit-down, would you? I used to be a part of the Alpha Chi sorority before they disbanded, and we had a little sister program going that I’m still pretty active in.” Lies, all lies, I tell you, but I’m pretty determined to turn this shitty semester around, and if befriending Owen’s little sister is the only way I can do it, then so be it.

  “That’s very nice of you, but I have a big sister.” She accepts her coffee before taking a careful sip. “She’s in prison for murder one. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She finds a seat at the nearest table, and I plop down opposite her.

  “I know all about your sister.” Sadly, this is true. It’s horrific what Aubree Vincent did, pushing that poor girl off a cliff, then trying to cover it up as a suicide. She tried to kill Baya, the waitress from the Black Bear, too. Just the thought gives me the shivers. “I’m really sorry.”

  “And I know all about you.” Her brows twitch as she pulls out her phone and proceeds to ignore me.

  “Yes, well, everyone seems to know about me these days. I’ve pretty much screwed myself over for life, or at least at the moment.” The thought of my own weighted reality takes over, and the last place I want to be is anywhere. Suddenly, I’m far too dejected to be anybody’s cheerleader. For sure, I don’t qualify as a life coach. “That whole little sister thing is just a joke,” I say weakly. “I could never be anybody’s role model.” Tears come and blur my vision. “For sure, I’m no mentor. Trust me, whatever I do, you’ll want to do the opposite.”

  Those serious eyes of hers narrow over me with concern, and now it’s me standing to make a break for it.

  “Wait!” She pulls me back into my seat, and I see her for the first time like a person, not some sibling extension of Owen. Ava is cute with her cherry-stained lips and overdrawn eyes. Her dark hair lies thick and long over
her shoulders in simple waves. She offers a spontaneous, yet pained smile, exposing a double row of tiny pearly white teeth. Ava is the quintessential little sister, and something in my heart melts for her as if she were my own relation. “I know how you feel. Well, a little. I mean, it must be pretty shitty for the entire world to know what you’ve done. And you gotta figure crap like that will stink up your future for some time to come.”

  “Yes.” I give a furtive nod because she totally gets me in a way that not even my friends were able to articulate moments before.

  “The good news is, you didn’t kill anyone. So prison is off the short list of places you’ll be.” She gives a sly wink, and a dry laugh rumbles through me. “With me, I’ve always been known as the killer’s sister. I’ve never been Ava. And now, here I am at the same university my big brother is at, and suddenly I’m Owen’s little sister.” She shakes her head while losing her gaze out the darkened window. “I guess I thought I would finally get a chance to be Ava for once.”

  “Oh, sweetie!” I pull her into a warm hug, and she doesn’t fight it. Ava pats my back as if she were hugging me right back to let me know she’s here for me. I stand and cinch my backpack over my shoulder. “Maybe somehow you and I can muddle through this next semester? You can learn to be you, and I can learn to dodge the press and stay out of old men’s laps.” I lean in. “Not a thing they said was true.” My mouth opens to say something else, and nothing comes out. “Okay, a few of the things they said were true, but that’s neither here nor there.” We share a quick laugh as I head for the exit. “If you see me around, don’t be a stranger!”

  “I won’t!” she shouts back like she means it.

  A part of me feels guilty for pigeonholing her as Owen’s little sister—as Aubree Vincent’s little sister. I’m just now discovering how it feels to live under a huge ominous shadow—that of my own.

  Who knew I would turn out to be my biggest curse?

  The house is dark except for the television winking in a morbid rainbow in the living room. Not surprisingly, Jet Madden’s television is as large as both his dick and his ego. I suppose that’s a compliment and an insult rolled all into one, but he sort of deserved both.