Never Been Kissed: A Never Been Novel

by C.M. Kars

The words I so desperately want to say to him rise up my throat; I can even taste them on my tongue. But I can’t say them, not yet. Not when he can easily throw me away.

  “I told you I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to treat you right.”

  I frown. “Yes, you do. Couples get into arguments, some even nasty ones. My trigger is people yelling at me, I shut down when others do. I’ve been yelled at all my life. I can’t take it. And you, you Hunter, think you always have to do everything by yourself, and no matter what, it’ll never be good enough. That was never my intention. I just wanted to give him a gift.” I kiss the shell of his ear. “Doesn’t mean we can’t make it work.”

  I love you, Hunter MacLaine. Let me show you I do.

  “You deserve-”

  “Yeah,” I say, recalling his earlier comments. “Yeah, I deserve a man who can give me whatever I want. Well, I want a man to build me bookshelves. Can you do that?”

  His eyes are stark blue, but the color warms a bit, thaws when he answers “Yes.”

  “I want a man who can watch movies with me and won’t tell me to shut up when I get too excited, or end up crying. Can you do that?”

  He nods, pulling me closer. I palm his face, that beautiful face that looks at me like I’m the one that told the sun to shine.

  “I want a man who comments on my nerdy shirts and allows me to give his kid a bit of nerd-flair. Can you do that?”

  He nods again, the blue in his eyes bright with hope. I swallow hard.

  “I want a man who will kiss me every morning because he knows how fraking lucky he is to have me. Can you do that?”

  “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

  “I want a man who accepts my help when he needs it and even when he doesn’t. I want a man who knows that I’m never going to make fun of him or think less of him because of what his life has made him into. Can you do that?”

  Hunter’s quiet for a long time. I count the seconds with my heartbeats. “I’ll try.”

  I smile at him, watch his face soften as his face gets closer to mine.

  “Can I kiss you now?”

  “You can kiss me anytime you want,” I tell him.

  His mouth hovers on mine, stretching out the ache I’ve had for him all day. My hands go to his scalp, feeling the bristles of hair run along my palms. I shiver in his lap, and bring my body even closer to his so we’re flush – abs to abs, and chest to chest.

  I love you, Hunter MacLaine.

  Hunter kisses me long and deep, slow and sweet until I can’t breathe without him tasting me, licking me. I want to touch, I want to taste but now’s not the right time or the right place – even if we’re on his bed.

  Hunter pulls back first, fingers biting into my hips.

  He pants, and licks me off his lips slowly, like he’s savouring the taste. My belly drops out, and my panties flush with wetness. When he opens his eyes, he’s my Hunter again and not the man from yesterday morning, or the one from a second ago holding onto me like I’m the only thing keeping him alive.

  “Thank you for buying Matty that t-shirt. You didn’t have to do that.”

  I kiss him again, because I can. I sip at his bottom lip, allowing my teeth to run along the edge, enough for him to growl at me and kiss me deeper, longer, more hungry. We’re totally making out on his bed. With his kid just outside the door.

  Nice, Sera, nice.

  “You’re welcome. Now, what have you got to eat? I’m starved.”

  When I move to get off his lap, Hunter stays me with his hands. “I’m wondering if you’re getting that I’m fucked up.”

  I frown. “Well, I’m fucked up, too. No one is completely normal a hundred percent of the time. We’re all struggling to find a little slice of happiness.”

  His jaw sets. “I don’t want a slice of happiness. I think I deserve the whole fucking cake.”

  “If you deserve the cake, then I deserve a Reese’s peanut butter cup one, with chunks of Reese’s pieces on top of it. Yeah. I mean, what’s better than peanut butter and chocolate? Lemme guess, uh, nothing.”

  He laughs, and the bleakness that was sketched into his features moments ago is done, the fear I had with it.

  “I want you warned. And once you’re warned, if you continue to stay with me, then I’m not letting you go.” He says. “You and I are opposites.”

  I look at him and tell him the truth as I see it. “You’re beautiful and I’m not.” Standing away from him as I am, Hunter reaches for my hands and tugs me closer.

  His voice is gruff, and a little mean. “Underneath what you think is dark and ugly is a light that shines so bright, you might just chase the shadows in me away.”

  I can’t say anything to that. What is there to say?

  Uh, thanks for calling me a shining light? No. That’s an asshole move.

  I kiss him again, and hold my hand out to him when I’m done. For my first time in a relationship ever looks like I’m doing pretty good.

  Not.

  That’s okay. I’m bound to get better at it.

  We hardly get anytime alone together, but I knew it would be like this. Hunter’s not just mine – he’s Matty’s too. And what kind of soulless jerk would I be if I were to sabotage that in any way?

  I’d be worse than a Dalek, worse than a Wendigo that chooses to dine on the flesh of humans for some sort of longer life. I’d be worse than Voldemort killing that unicorn and drinking its blood. I’d be worse than... than, well I’d be worse than Aly. I’m so happy she didn’t know what she had and threw it away.

  I read to Matty every single night. Some nights he struggles to stay awake for one chapter, but damn you Queen Rowling, when it starts to get exciting he demands more and more until in a matter of three weeks (mostly because he asks a ton of questions), we’ve finished Harry’s adventure in getting the Philosopher’s stone away from Voldemort, and off on his summer holidays.

  Matty has a lot of questions about the Mirror of Erised, and I try my best to answer every single one.

  “It shows what you want most, right?” he asks, staring down at me lying down while he’s sitting up. His Spider-man pjs are ruffled, twisting about his limbs since he can’t keep still when I’m reading.

  I nod, heart beating hard because I think I know where this is going. I can just picture him standing in front of that magical mirror, much like Ron Weasley and Harry had done, enthralled by the image the magic puts there. Does he see himself with Hunter and his mom?

  “Wanna know what I’d see, Sera?”

  “Tell me,” I invite.

  Matty screws his eyes shut and I know he’s picturing it in his head, standing in front of that mirror, showing him what his heart wants beyond anything.

  “I see myself like you. I can run around all day and never get tired. I’m like Harry, Sera. I could sit in front of that mirror all day long.”

  I ignore the stinging in my nose and eyes, instead pulling him down to me so I can hug him close. I twist to put him on his side, and we end up sharing his pillow.

  “I don’t want that Matty,” I tell him, pointing into his chest. “I want this Matty.”

  As a little boy, he doesn’t mask his tears or turn away when something hurts him – he lets me see, and asks me without saying anything to take it away, to make it better.

  “You’re amazing, little man. I promise you.”

  His eyebrows furrow and he angrily swipes at the tears that have fallen to his cheeks. “People lie, Sera. And people go away. And they never come back, like Harry’s parents. They left Harry all alone.”

  “You’re not alone, kid. You have your Dad and you have me.”

  “What if you go away?”

  Oh, that hurts. Poor kid, four years old and asking these kind of questions already.

  “Then you come find me, that’s all. I’ll always be your friend, Matty.”

  “Don’t you want to be my Mommy?” The words are ripped from him, heartbroken, like he’s sure I’m going to say no, but he can�
�t help but ask anyway. He looks like puppy that has been kicked too many times, hoping against hope that the next time you move your hand, you’re going to pet him instead.

  I don’t know what to say. I don’t think I can anyway ‘cause my throat is tight, and my vision has gone all blurry. I hold him closer to me, pet his hair and rub his back until he’s exhausted and falls asleep. I doze off and on until I realize I’m not in my bed, and I’m boiling. Disoriented at first, I start when a gentle hand shakes me awake.

  “Sera?” Hunter calls, shaking me a bit more.

  “Yeah. I’m alive, just gimme a sec.” I mumble, pushing my hair out of my face. I sigh when I realize my arm is underneath Matty and everywhere from forearm down has gone numb. I twitch my fingers and wince when the sting of blood comes back to them as I slowly move off the bed, making sure Matty’s still asleep.

  Hunter waits for me by the door, hand on the light-switch, ready to turn it off. Sleepy as I am, I can’t read his face, and muffle a yawn with my hand. I lurch out into the hall, almost knocking into him.

  I settle on his couch, pulling my knees up and resting my chin on them. I palm my scalp, rubbing along it as my hair falls down past my shoulders. It’s a Saturday night and I conked out at nine o’clock. Old much?

  “Want some water or something?” Hunter asks, and despite the light coming from the fridge, he’s part of the shadows, a voice floating from the darkness.

  I shake my head, then realize he can’t see me. “No. I’m good. Come and sit.”

  Hunter moves into the living room, tagging the remote in the darkness and turning on the TV. He sits next to me, close enough that our thighs are flush to one another, and I can feel his heat between our two pairs of sweats.

  I’m awake, I’m awake.

  Two weeks after our little fight (I’m not sure you can call it a fight), and we haven’t done anything but kiss. I like the kissing, but the inferno inside me wants more. Even now, calm as I was before having fallen asleep with his crying child, I want Hunter more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my entire life.

  I feel the pressure of a schedule – not the bases ‘cause I never figured what was what except home plate. Hunter hasn’t pressured me, not even with his body. But he has to know that the shirtless him every single night is wearing on me. He hasn’t said anything about how I love to look at him, wishing my eyes were my hands and I had the ovaries to walk over and do what I want to do.

  His arm a warm weight over my shoulders, I snuggle closer, putting my cold toes under his thigh, feeling the cool metal of his nipple piercing under my cheek. God, he’s volcanic, and I’m so combustible when I’m near him.

  I want to make out like a teenager. I never had that experience, so now it’s on my to do list. I’m twenty-five years old. I don’t need to ask permission. Frak, I can do whatever I want!

  The blue glow of the TV shows us a scene from the movie Dead Poets Society (a movie I haven’t actually seen). One arm is slung over his hard abs, my hand touching his naked ribs. And Holy Rib Muscles, Batman, he is cut. I let my fingers dip into the hollows between the bone and hit the ridges of muscle between them. I do it slowly, like I’m sneaking away with it when I’m really not.

  “What are you doing?”

  I stop like I’ve been scalded and drag my hand back to where it belongs in my very own personal space.

  “Sorry not sorry,” I mutter, locking my hands together. Bad hands, bad hands.

  Hunter’s phone buzzes loudly across the surface of his coffee table, and he jackknifes forward to snatch it before it makes anymore noise. I think that vibration may have registered on the Richter scale. While Hunter does the finger-swiping thing across the screen, I listen for Matty’s even breathing, and yep, he’s still asleep. Score.

  Alone time with Hunter.

  “Fuck,” Hunt growls by my ear, removing his arm from me, using two hands to text back. “Aly’s here. I don’t know how she got in the building, she either conned her way or some asshole let her in. Shit.” He rubs his head, then rubs his mouth, trying to figure out what to do. He pulls in air through his nose and holds it, his whole body going still.

  “I need to get her out of here. She’s going to come up and wake up Matty. Not to mention, she’s going to be pissed when I’m not available to screw around with.”

  I frown, chewing on my lip. “Who raised her? I mean, frak, was she raised in a barn? Where the hell are her manners? Bloody hell.” I wave my arms around the room for emphasis.

  Hunt grins, and leans in and kisses me, hard and fast. I make a disappointed sort of noise when he stops, but the smile he gives me is so beautiful, I just want to sit and stare and make that embarrassing noise all the time.

  “How do you always do that? Make me laugh?”

  “I’m actually Hermione Granger, but you can’t tell anyone.” My heart squeezes when he leans in and kisses me again, slow and sweet with a lot of tongue. My hands have gone to either side of his neck, squeezing, bringing him closer. Frak, I had plans tonight.

  Hunter pulls back, lands a light kiss to the corner of my mouth. “I know who she is. And babe, you’re hotter than Emma Watson.”

  I smile, and skitter my eyes away. I don’t know if he means it, and that scared part of me deep in my core knows I can’t trust his words. I’ve fallen for words like that many times before, from other boys, from family.

  “Okay,” I say, kissing him. I don’t want him to talk anymore. I know I’m not hotter than Emma Watson. Plus, she’s British, which gives her a whole lot of points for being way cooler than me.

  “I don’t like that,” Hunter says, pulling away from me when I was not done kissing him yet.

  “Huh?” I’m ignoring the hard look in his eyes when he’s this close to me. I ignore the hard set to his jaw and mouth, the way his veins and muscles of his neck pop underneath my palms, tense and angry.

  “I want you, Sera. You’re the only one I want.”

  “Okay,” I whisper, heart beating too fast, and there’s not enough oxygen ‘cause Hunt is up in my face and stealing all the air. I want to run away; I want to stay and let him try to convince me.

  “No one has loved Matty before, like he’s a part of me, not like he’s an extra person. No one’s ever read to him in his whole life. He’s happier when he’s with you. And so am I.”

  Looking into his beautiful face, I can’t tell if he’s lying. He might be even a better champion liar than I am. The precise movements of his hands, almost shaking me trying to convince me of his words could be part of a bigger and better game that has to be played. Maybe he’s going down to see Aly to tell her that she has to wait a little while longer until he gets rid of me.

  “Okay,” I say. It’s all I can say right now. “Go see her, tell her to go home. Then come back upstairs.” I stare into his blue eyes, searching, searching for the truth. The truth is, even if it were there, I’m so blinded by how little I think I’m worth, I wouldn’t believe what I see anyway.

  “I’ll be ten minutes, tops.” Hunter kisses me again, half leaning in, half standing, pushing me back into the couch, a hand on either side of me. The kiss is slow, and demanding, even angry – like he’s trying to leave his mark on me, trying to impress upon me the words I don’t believe. “Then I’m coming back upstairs and I want more of this. I want more of you,” he says against my mouth.

  Oh. My. God. My lower belly quivers, my breathing ratchets up a notch, and my palms itch to touch him.

  He pushes his weight back off the couch, and heads to his hallway. When he comes back out, I see why – he’s put a shirt on and changed out of his sweats into jeans. “I’ll be right back,” he says as he opens the door and leaves.

  I count to five. Then twenty-five.

  I run to the door, tagging his keys from the hooks by the side of the door, and lock up. I run down the stairs, taking two at a time, hoping Aly is still in the lobby and not in the basement. I don’t care if Hunter makes it before me, that doesn’t matter. I have
to see, I have to see what he’ll do when she throws herself at him.

  She’d be crazy not to.

  I open the door gingerly when I get to the lobby, slowly pushing on the horizontal bar so it doesn’t make too much noise and echo about the walls. I let it close behind me, knowing that I have the key to the staircase if I need to run up quick enough without having to wait for the elevator.

  My bare feet go numb as they hit the cold tile of the lobby floor, and I manage to squeeze myself into a corner, behind some potted plants, in perfect view of the elevators, just in time for it to beep down Hunter’s arrival.

  I don’t see Aly, but I imagine her leaning against the opposite wall, waiting for him to come downstairs. Looks like I was right. As she moves into my view, her long red hair cascades in perfect waves to her perfect tiny ass which is clad in tight jeans. Oh yeah, and she’s wearing stilettos like she’s about to go on a catwalk and not in a building lobby.

  Please. Cool your jets, Alysha.

  Her hips pop out with every step she takes, exaggerating their sway as she walks up to Hunter, and jumps him, long legs wrapping around his waist, spidery arms going around his shoulders, face going into the crook of his neck.

  Pain slices through my chest and stomach, his words from minutes ago ricocheting around my skull to be chased over and over again by the words lies, lies, lies. Hunter doesn’t go back on a foot, doesn’t move his arms as she launches herself at him.

  “I missed you, baby,” she says, loud enough for me to hear. I hate her, I hate her. “How come you won’t answer my calls, huh? Weren’t we good together, Hunter? Didn’t you like what we did?” Her voice has dropped down an octave, turning on a seductive charm I can’t hope to duplicate. She’s so much better at this than I am; I wouldn’t blame him if he wanted to go back with her.

  “Aly, maybe there’s a reason I’m not answering your calls or texts, it’s been four months. Maybe that reason is I don’t want to talk to you anymore.” Hunt says, untangling her arms from around his neck with an annoyed force.

  Her legs drop from his waist, feet clacking against the floor as her stilettos and meagre weight settle on them. Her hands clench into the fabric of his white tee at the base of his throat, dragging him closer to her.