Never Been Kissed: A Never Been Novel

by C.M. Kars

  “Yeah, baby.” His voice is hoarse, thick with an emotion I’m not sure I have a name for. It could be self-loathing and self-pity rolled into one. It could be sorrow. It could be a sick gratefulness for life when you want it to be over. I don’t know, but I don’t like it. “I’m fine. My girl thinks I’m amazing. How much more okay can I be?”

  Frak. He’s hurting and I don’t know why.

  “I’m sorry that I have to go in now. But call me anytime today, and I can talk. I promise.” His blue eyes search my face when I pull back but he doesn’t let me go, like it isn’t an option. He’s starting to scare me. Icy fear trickles down my spine, down my throat, freezing me from the inside out.

  “Sure, Sera.”

  I wrap him up in my arms. Now I’m the one refusing to let go. I stare up at him, seeing through the mask he’s wearing, a finely cultivated piece of his face that hides what his eyes are blazing with.

  My heart hurts just looking at him, at his need to keep up a front, in front of me. I thought we were passed that. But maybe I’m being insensitive. He nearly lost his son today – me, only two acquaintances that have made me (in my eyes, anyway) feel like I’m a better person.

  I grit my teeth, anger chasing the fear and pain away.

  “If you don’t call me at least two times today so I know you’re okay, I’m going to make the Daleks look like fluffy little poodles. You get me, Hunt?”

  His mouth twitches and the world fuzzes out into red before coming back clear. “I don’t know what a Dalek is.”

  I bare my teeth because the jackass is laughing at me. Like he doesn’t understand the seriousness of my comment. “The Daleks are an alien race that have had every emotion removed from them except hate. They hate all non-Dalek life, and will conquer and destroy all of it. You piss me off today, and things will not go well.”

  His eyebrows pop up on his head, and he licks his lips. His eyes go beyond me, to the car, until he can’t help himself and breaks out into a full smile.

  “I’ll call you. Christ, how do you get me to laugh when I don’t want to?”

  A line from an old Ray Charles song pops into my head. “’I put a spell on you, and now you’re mine.’”

  Hunter stares at me, again for what feels like a long time. I start to get worried about Matty sitting in the warm car. Not the most comfortable place in the world. But now it feels like I’m under Hunter’s spell and I can’t move until he lets me.

  He opens his mouth, closes it, only to open it again. Thinking better of speaking, he shakes his head, and stares down at me with a happier face. He touches his mouth to mine, a kiss that means more than the action itself.

  I love you, Hunter MacLaine.

  What. The. FRAK?

  Oh, God, oh God. Did I say that out loud?

  Hunter’s mouth touches mine again and again, like he’s trying to get the truth out of me, but frak, those words are going under padlock and key, under palmprint and retinal scan and a funny password that’ll change every hour deep inside me.

  “I’m expecting you after dinner, baby,” he whispers against my mouth, and my dumb heart trips up like I’m not used to this. But I’m not used to this. Having someone so close and wanting them even closer.

  I think I make an affirmative sound, since with one more squeeze to my upper back, and one last feather-kiss, Hunter gets into the driver’s seat and cranks the engine over. I force my legs to walk up the parking lot, and climb up the stairs without looking back, even though every muscle wants to riot against that order and get one last look of my boys taking off for the day.

  Stop being so pathetic, you’re going to see him in nine hours, anyway. Calm down.

  I try to take my own advice, but it’s hard.

  ***

  Nothing happens for weeks and weeks and weeks. Hunter never pushes me, never asks for more than I can give, and it’s starting to worry me. So I do something that calms me when I get nervous, or feel uncertain about my future.

  I buy nerdy shirts.

  I may have overstepped my bounds. Probably. Most definitely. Yeah, I did.

  I bought Matty a nerdy t-shirt that says ‘I am a Jedi like my father before me’. I’m not sure Hunter will get it since he’s never seen Star Wars which I plan to fix tonight.

  Still. I don’t know how to proceed here. I’m not Matty’s mom, do I even have a right to want to clothe him in nerd-gear? And what if Hunter wants his son to be totally nerd free? I mean, he already knows about Harry Potter, why not the rest?

  My logic is flawless.

  I knock on the door, wearing jeans and yup, a nerdy shirt that says ‘Run like Loki Laufeyson is waiting for you at the finish line.’ What I wouldn’t give to have Tom Hiddleston in full Loki costume at the finish line of a race. Probably my right kidney. To be honest, I’d give my entire nerd collection, and watch it burn to ash to have Hunter there waiting for me. Even if he doesn’t know my secret; that he’s stolen my heart.

  Not that I’m going to tell him anytime soon, because it’s madness, and I don’t want to be Sparta-kicked into a pit of despair. No, thanks. I knock on Hunter’s apartment door, waiting for him to let me in.

  “Hi,” I say, overcome with shyness. Jesus, it’s not like I’m walking in naked!

  My hand is grabbed, while the one with Matty’s t-shirt is hidden behind my back as a surprise. Hunter kisses my knuckles, and drags me forward until, having no hands to stop the collision, I collide with his chest with an oof, and stare up at him while I watch his eyes darken and his nostrils flare. His face gets closer and closer until I lose focus, fluttering my eyes closed until I get his mouth on mine.

  I didn’t know there were different types of kisses that went with moods. I mean, duh, I’ve read about it, but to experience it is something else. Hunter licks at my mouth, and when I open for him, his tongue tangles with mine, dominating mine so I can’t breathe or think. He tastes me, a growl rumbling in his throat, his hands at my hips dragging me closer and closer to him until I feel him hard against my belly.

  I did that. I made him like that.

  I really, really wish Matty went to bed early. Like now.

  Hunter nips at my mouth, little stings that he soothes with his tongue, angry and sorry at the same time.

  We both pull back, panting. I’m trying to decide if I want to sit down, or run to his bedroom and scream: ‘Have your way with me!’ before Matty decides for us.

  “I’m starving. Where is the food? It isn’t broccoli again, is it?”

  Hunter puts a hand on my neck, under my loose hair, cradling the back of my head. “Yeah, it is. And you’re going to eat it, Matty.”

  “No, I won’t. I hate broccoli. It’s like a tiny tree. We’re eating tiny trees! I’m not a giraffe! I want spaghetti with tomato sauce.” Matty says, stalking to his seat and plopping himself down.

  “Tony Stark eats broccoli. That’s how he got so smart.” I’m pretty sure this isn’t true, but I’m bribing the kid into eating vegetables. Parenting 101.

  “I’ve never seen him,” Matty says, crossing his arms over his chest, and notching his chin up. Defiant, to the end.

  I let Hunter hold me for as long as he wants to. Even then, I won’t let him go. I like this too much. I could never play hard to get, hugs and kisses from Hunter MacLaine are worth worshipping the Empire for.

  “Well, yeah. Why would they show Tony sitting at home eating veggies? People wanna see him fighting crime, blowing up aliens and making fun of Cap. You don’t get smart eating pasta for the rest of your life. It’s a scientific fact.”

  “You’re a scientific fact!” Matty shouts, banging his fists on the table.

  Hunter tenses in my arms. “Kid, if you don’t eat your supper, then you aren’t getting anything else.”

  Matty has a triumphant grin on his face. Click. Oh, frak, what a little genius.

  I step forward, keeping his present behind my back, moving out of Hunter’s arms. “You know, little man, you can’t let your body get tir
ed because you don’t want to eat vegetables. It’s not fun when you’re tired is it? Even if you get to eat chocolate and candy so you don’t get tired anymore, huh?”

  His mouth drops open like I’ve just read every thought he’s ever had. He has to work on his Occlumency.

  “I...but I want to have what the other kids have. They can have juice with lunch, and I can’t. They can have brownies for dessert, and all I get is crackers. I don’t like crackers, Sera. They taste like sand.”

  I nod, even if my heart hurts. He just wants to be normal, he just wants to be like everyone else.

  “How about you keep eating right, and I can start making you special muffins for you to take to school with you? Only for you and nobody else?”

  “Can you put some chocolate in them?”

  I think about this. “Yes. I can. Now sit up properly because I have a present for you. I got you the most amazingest t-shirt in the history of t-shirts.”

  Matty slaps his hands over his eyes, and I know when he moves them, there’ll be red marks on his face. I wince and move my hand from behind my back, totally ignoring the fact that Hunter has let go of me, and gone quiet.

  I unfurl the shirt, and show it to the little kid, shaking out my now cast-free hand. I tell him what it says, and feel a little crestfallen when his reaction isn’t everything that I hoped for.

  “On the weekend, I’m going to show you what a Jedi is, and how it’s so so cool to be one.”

  Matty tilts his head to the side. “Sera, you’re weird.” He shrugs and leaps off his chair to give my legs a hug. “Thank you. Blue is my favourite color.”

  “Yeah, Sera. You’re weird.” Four words said in a dead voice. I turn to look at Hunter, whose eyes have gone cold and whose face looks at me like I’m some kind of stranger.

  Hunter grabs my upper arm in a gentle hold and almost drags me to his bedroom. Again, I see those hand-drawn pictures, and search for my face once more in the graffiti that takes up the entirety of his far wall.

  Oh. My. God.

  He’s taken to drawing more of me, more portraits of my face in different thoughts and moods. His talent is pure and beautiful, and the lines he’s used to capture who I am on the paper makes me see what he sees.

  And I don’t know what I did wrong. If I did wrong.

  “You think I can’t fucking afford to buy the kid a goddamn t-shirt, Sera?” Hunter shouts after he closes the bedroom door. The blue in his eyes is frosty, instead of the warm navy when he usually looks at me. His face is taut, cheekbones standing out, and the muscle along his jaw ticks like its keeping time. He gets in my space, forcing me back against the wall so two of his thick arms cage me on either side.

  No. Just no.

  “What are you talking about? I saw it, and I wanted to buy it for him, alright? I didn’t buy him a fraking nuclear launch code, Hunter!” I yell, ducking underneath his arms and going for the door. Before opening it, my stomach hollows out and it’s a struggle to breathe. “You need to learn to let others do things for you, or you’re going to be one lonely motherducker, MacLaine! Set the table for two. I’m done here.”

  Heart splintering down the middle, I wave bye to Matty, and launch out the door, keys already in hand to get into my place. I ignore the phone calls and let them go to voicemail. Ditto on the texts.

  God, I’m so sick of being yelled at, of being told I do everything wrong. All I wanted to do was do something nice for a kid I love. Was that so wrong? No, no it fraking wasn’t.

  I bum around my apartment, watching TV without seeing it, and not even Dean Winchester’s ‘son of a bitch!’ can get me laughing.

  I don’t want to call Katie, since it feels like failure. My heart hurts, and I don’t know what happened. Maybe I should go over there and ask what’s up his ass, but I won’t out of principle. I’m not going to let him get away with getting pissed at me for no fraking reason.

  And if he does, well then, I’m moving in with Katie and that’s that. I didn’t leave behind my family to live next door to my first love who’s also going to treat me like I’m garbage. Fuck that.

  Pounding on the door two hours later; I ignore it, too. Ditto the simultaneous phone calls to the pounding on the door, and even the texts that soon come after. I need to stew in it, and think clearly.

  I leave a half hour early for work the next morning so I don’t even see a glimpse of that asshole who I love, Hunter MacLaine and his son, Matty MacLaine. Jesus, that name is badass, and it’s not fair. Too bad he’s an asshole!

  A sexy asshole. A sweet asshole when he wants to be.

  I turn off my cell phone and refuse to even stare at it (for more than ten seconds) and refuse to allow myself to ponder what the voicemails could hold, and what the texts say for no more than ten seconds at a time.

  Picking up the phone as per usual and taking a swig of leftover coffee from the morning, I end up choking it back up and spitting it out into my cup.

  “Don’t hang up on me, I’ve been spent all morning trying to find your extension.” Hunter says.

  My spine goes ramrod, and I stifle a gasp.“I don’t want to talk to you, hence the not answering your calls or texts.”

  “Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid, Sera. I had a reason for being pissed last night.”

  Aware that I’m at work and personal phone calls are frowned upon, I try and keep my voice down and calm. “I don’t fraking care that you had a reason. You didn’t have to shout at me, and I won’t let you do it again,” I force the last words out as my throat has closed up. I’m going to need a bathroom break to recover some of my dignity.

  “No one’s ever taken care of us,” he whispers into the phone, and I can just see him on the other side of the line, head down, staring at his feet, shoulders hunched forward.

  There. There it is. Tears bathe my eyes in warmth and I’m sure they’ve fallen to my cheeks by now. My chest aches, and I’d rather take a stab wound to the ribcage compared to this pain.

  My breath whistles into the mic of the phone, cradling it as I am between my shoulder and neck, trying to get my paperwork in order. My hands and fingers won’t move, as I’m paralyzed at his words.

  “No one’s ever gotten us anything as a gift, baby. You’re the first. And I was so fucking mad that you did it, like it was charity-”

  I’m about to burst in some logic but I don’t make it in time. I want to hear what he has to say.

  “Like you felt sorry for us. I thought you noticed the clothes I have to buy Matty since my salary isn’t what I’ve come from. I try my best, you have to believe me. I do the best I can by him, and sometimes it’s not enough.”

  I let my tears fall. My strong, brave Hunter sounds absolutely wrecked, desolate. I wish he was here right now, with me, so I can try and take some of it away.

  “His jeans and shoes and shirts aren’t custom made. I can’t afford to spend money on brands and shit because we have to eat, and my car constantly has fucking problems with it, and I-” his voice cracks. “I started taking it out on you, like you were shoving it in my face, that I wasn’t good enough.”

  I swallow the lump in my throat, still not ready to speak. Hunter keeps going.

  “I’m a fucking asshole, Sera. I tried to stay away from you, to keep you away from the hell my life is, what it’s become. You need a man who can take care of you, who can afford to let you stay at home with a house full of kids and you can do whatever you want. A man who can buy you all the nerdy shirts the internet has to offer.” He sighs, that bone-weary tone coming to his voice again. “I’m so tired of my life,” he admits, and I let out a hurt sound that he hears over the phone.

  “I’m such a tool. Are you crying because of me? I’m sorry, Sera, Christ, I’m sorry. I won’t call you again.” Hunter disconnects. I rush to the bathroom in the middle of phones ringing and the fax beeping every two seconds to swipe away the tears and make sure my mascara hasn’t gone and died on me. I blow my nose, and take deep breaths.

  This is r
eal life, and not everything goes according to plan.

  Real life is not a book. There are too many emotions in real life, too many experiences that can ever be captured in a single story.

  I’m not prepared for this.

  Not at all.

  ***

  That afternoon, when I hear him and Matty walk in next door, I storm out of my place and open their door without even knocking. I didn’t even give Hunter the chance to lock it, I was so fast. The Flash would’ve been proud.

  They both stop when they see me, so great is their surprise. Matty is midway from tearing all his laces off his shoes to get them off, and Hunt is behind the kitchen counter, washing his hands from a hard day’s work.

  “I need to talk to you,” I say, jabbing my finger in Hunter’s direction. I glance down at Matty and give him a little wave before ruffling his hair. I look back up at Hunter and order, “In your room. Now.”

  I act a lot braver than I feel. My heart hurts, and my stomach’s in knots, and my asshole bladder really really wants me to pee, but this has to get done first.

  When Hunter follows me from the kitchen into his room, I pat his mattress for him to sit down. He obliges and stares up at me. I do what feels right, even if it’s not the best solution out there.

  I crawl into his lap, grab him around the shoulders and hug him, squeezing him with all my might. “You’re a jerk, Hunt. Frak, you’re a jerk. Why did you have to yell at me? You could’ve just told me what was on your mind, and I would’ve been okay with it.” I say into his ear, refusing to let go.

  His arms wind around me slowly, like he’s afraid any sudden movements will scare me off.

  “Just don’t give up on me.” He hugs me close and starts to rock back and forth, my strong, brave Hunter, holding me like I’m the only thing that can help him stand again. My throat hurts like I’ve gone and swallowed a hot poker, and my eyes and nose sting with unshed tears. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. You didn’t deserve that.”

  I don’t say anything; we both know the answer, anyway.