She flopped back on the bed, staring upwards. “What if people think you’re just dating me out of sympathy? Doing something nice for the girl in the wheelchair, or whatever?”
“As of today, you don’t look like much of a girl in a wheelchair to me. Besides, fuck what they think. And if anyone thinks I’m doing anything to be nice, they obviously don’t know me.”
She sat back up, giving me a wry look. “You can be nice. What do you call the takeout delivery service you’ve been running the past few days? Or the cold rag to my forehead—yes, I was halfway out of it but not so out of it that I didn’t catch that one.”
“It’s like I said. I go after what I want. I do the things I want to do, not because they’re nice or the right thing or the wrong thing. And for now, I want you.”
“For now…” she said, her words trailing off.
“Everything starts with for now. Good stuff graduates into for later. And the best stuff turns into forever.”
She rolled her eyes. “Did you read that on a fortune cookie?”
I grinned. “No. I thought if I got poetic, you might show me those panties again.”
Kennedy launched a pillow at me.
25
Kennedy
I had hardly seen my mom since the night she showed up at Tristan’s house with my wheelchair and forced me to come home. She barely talked the whole way back. When we got home, she’d had new pills waiting for me, too.
I sat across from her at breakfast, still using my chair even though I wasn’t taking the pills that made me feel so dizzy anymore. That conversation was a bridge I absolutely did not want to cross right now.
“Happy birthday,” my mom said.
I smiled. “Thanks.” I knew it was normal for kids to get presents on their birthdays, but my mom had never believed in any of that, even if today felt like a particularly special one since I was turning eighteen.
“Those things you were watering out back were weeds,” my mom said. “I sprayed weed killer on them this morning so you can plant some proper flowers back there later.”
It felt like she’d punched me in the chest. So much for that happy birthday she just wished me. “You what?”
She set her knife and fork down. “I will not have you wasting your time watering and taking care of weeds. It’s embarrassing.”
“For who? The zero-point one people who ever come to our house? You haven’t had a friend over in… I don’t even know how long.” My throat felt tight and hot and I couldn’t stop the emotion from welling up, making my eyes sting with tears. “You were just pissed at me and wanted to punish me. At least tell the truth.”
“I don’t know what’s gotten into you. Maybe this whole school thing really was a bad idea. Those teachers are putting evil ideas in your head and turning my sweet girl into a harlot.”
I took a measured breath. “I need to go or I’m going to miss the bus.”
My mom didn’t say anything.
I went out back and tried to splash the plants with water, hoping maybe it could dilute the weed killer my mom had sprayed. But I could already see they looked less lively than they had yesterday.
“I’m sorry, guys,” I said, drizzling some more water on the plants. “Fight through this one and I’ll make sure she never does it again. I’ll fill the weed killer bottle with water tonight. Okay?”
I hurried to the bus stop, pushing my chair as fast as I could. I’d only walked without dizziness in my room so far, but part of me was dying to get out of my chair and run freely—to strip off my shoes and just go as fast as I could and feel the rush of freedom. But for now, I stayed in the chair.
At school, I left my chair at the front office and stood, drawing surprised exclamations from the office staff. I explained I was feeling better and wondered if I could keep the chair there while I was at school from now on.
I walked out of the office, trying not to smile like a crazy person as I joined a crowd of students coming in the front entrance. I walked along with them, relishing the way people brushed past me roughly, not worrying if they might throw me off balance or hurt me. Hardly anyone even looked at me, except kids I recognized from class, who reacted with everything from double takes, to whooping cheers, to high fives.
By the time I got to first period, I was beaming, and I didn’t care how I must’ve looked.
“It’s too bad,” Marne said when I came into class. “Tristan loved that chair. I guess you guys could still use one as a prop, though. If he’s having trouble getting excited, or something.”
I shot her a look. “It’s not like that.”
“It’s not?” She asked. “Everybody is talking about how you two are a thing now. People say they heard it directly from Tristan, so it’s not like when he and Haisley dated and he’d never actually admitted they were together. This is the real deal.”
“I’m still processing it. That’s all.”
“Well, process a little nibble for me, would you? And if any of his friends like a girl who could kick their ass at Sudoku, track a five-point buck six miles without so much as spooking it, give them my number. Oh, and if they’re interested, tell them I also have extensive knowledge of which berries, fruits, and mushrooms in the Maine wilderness are edible.” She leaned in, lowering her voice. “I can even personally describe some of the more unpleasant gastrointestinal symptoms of eating the wrong ones.”
I promised Marne I’d pass her message along, even though I wasn’t exactly sure how to bring something like that up.
I headed out to the practice field after school to watch Tristan. I brought my camera, more so I didn’t have to admit to myself why I’d actually come.
Logan hobbled up to me on his crutches when he saw me. “I heard the news.”
“Yeah, well, Tristan was the architect behind that little announcement. I’m still not even sure I have things figured out between us.”
Logan grinned. “I was talking about the whole no wheelchair thing. But I guess if your first thought was Tristan, that tells me quite a bit, huh?”
I blushed. “It’s kind of sad to admit, but I’ve never had a boyfriend. I’m trying to figure out if I’m letting him just claim me as his because I’ve spent so long daydreaming about what it’d be like.”
Logan bumped his shoulder into me. “That’s cute. You’ve seriously never had a boyfriend?”
“My mom pretty much kept me on quarantine my whole life. So, shockingly, no.”
“Tristan is a bit of a big first step, then. That’s like taking your driver’s ed class in a Ferrari in the middle of rush hour traffic.”
I snorted. “You don’t think you’re giving him too much credit?”
“It wasn’t supposed to be a compliment. I just mean there are guys out there who won’t make it so complicated.”
“So you’re trying to talk me out of dating him?”
Logan groaned. “No. I’m just trying to give you some perspective, you said this is your first time, so I thought you should at least—”
“I’m messing with you. I get it, and I appreciate it. But what’s the worst that could happen, right? I get my heart broken? I realize I’m an idiot for forgiving him too easily? Am I missing something?”
“Pregnancy?” Logan suggested.
“I’m not. We’re not…”
He arched an eyebrow. “When he took you back to his room the other night, I kind of assumed.”
“Well, we didn’t,” I said. “And don’t tell him I told you that. Actually, don’t tell him we talked about this at all, or he might kill us both.”
“Fair point. Well, since I’m the only member of the cripple club now. I guess I better get my busted ass out of here and let those of us with functioning limbs enjoy it.”
Tristan had been watching our conversation, I noticed. So much so that his coach had to stop a play and ask him to get his head out of the clouds.
When the players went to go grab drinks, Tristan locked eyes with me and got a devious look in his eye
s. I frowned, not sure how to read it. He pantomimed filming something, then pointed to me. Curious, I got my camera out of my bag and turned it on, aiming it his way.
The team wasn’t practicing in pads today, so when Tristan reached to peel off his sweaty jersey, there was nothing to block my view of his torso.
I might have accidentally held the zoom for a few seconds until I could see a glistening drop of sweat roll a glorious path down his muscular neck, across his peck, down the trail of his abs, where it finally sank out of sight against his pants.
My mouth went dry as I watched, and then I realized what I was doing. I pulled the camera away from my eye in time to see Tristan smiling cockily. He bit his lip, smirking my way before he jogged back to join his teammates.
* * *
That night, I slid myself into the sheets of my bed and made sure my door was locked. Then I pulled out the camera from my book bag, navigating the footage until I found the clip of Tristan pulling his shirt off. I played through it frame by frame, vaguely aware of how pathetic I must’ve looked. I was halfway under my covers with the screen of the camera just inches from my face, trying to absorb every last line of his body.
There was a point in the footage where he lifted his hand to wipe his face, and the single, innocent motion sent a ripple of flexing muscles across his whole body that made me feel strangely good. It was a lot like the feeling I’d had when we were on the bed together in his room—when he was pressing himself between my legs, grinding into me.
I glanced at my door, then paused the video and slid my hand down under the blankets.
There was a sound at my window that made me jump and half-throw the camera in the air. I quickly turned it so the screen was face down and stood. I did a little jumping shake to try to dispel the fluttering warmth that was still moving under my skin.
Tristan slid his long legs in the window, ducking inside with a box of pizza and a six pack of beers balanced on top. “Saw your mom wasn’t home and figured we could properly celebrate our relationship. And the big birthday.”
“How’d you know it was my birthday?”
“I have my methods.”
I rolled my eyes. “It was like every single person at school knew we were together. What did you do, put up flyers?”
“Just told the right people.” He set the box on the edge of my bed and flipped it open. He grabbed himself a slice and sat down, dangerously close to the camera. I suddenly wished I’d taken the time to shut it off, instead of just turning it face down.
He took a bite of the pizza, making a happy noise at the taste. “Had to make sure everybody knew you were mine now.”
“Yours, huh?” I asked, grabbing myself a slice. “Why does it always have to be such a caveman thing with you? What if I was a willing partner instead of a possession?”
He cracked open one of the beers, taking a long drink. “That’s not how it works. I wanted you. I took you. End of story.”
I looked down, trying to decide how I felt about that. I was a little ashamed to realize I liked it, at least on some level. Maybe it shouldn’t have felt good, but it did. Part of me liked how simple he made it—how unapologetic he was.
“Does this happen to every girl you kiss?”
“What?” he asked. “The orgasm? Because no, that was a first.” He waved the half-eaten pizza slice at me, smirking. “An absolutely awesome first, mind you. But a first.”
I groaned. “No. The part where their brains involuntarily start to rewire themselves into liking you.”
“I’m hurt. You say that like you didn’t want to like me.”
“I still don’t.”
“But you do.”
I took the beer he offered me, popping it open and taking a sip. “But I do,” I agreed with a crooked smile.
“You look hot like that,” he said, setting down his pizza and reaching for the camera. “Stay still, I’ll—”
I half-reached to stop him, but it was too late. Tristan was already staring into the screen. I knew from the way it lit his face in pale greens and blues that he was staring at the exact moment I’d frozen the footage.
I wanted to curl in on myself until I could just disappear in a cloud of smoke. “I was editing,” I croaked.
Tristan burst out laughing, but the humor slid from his face in moments, replaced by a wicked look I was getting to know all too well. “Did you touch yourself for me? Is that why you looked so freaked out when I came in?”
He set down his beer now, too, scooting closer. “Are you still wet?”
His questions made me feel dizzy, but I knew it had nothing to do with medications or conditions this time.
There had been a few times in my life where it felt like the weight of the moment overruled my own will. When I’d gone running to find my father at eight years old, even though I knew mom would be furious. Or when I’d let Tristan take me to his house the other night, even though logic was practically screaming against it. And now… Even though I knew where this moment led, I still couldn’t lift a finger to stop it.
“Yes,” I whispered.
26
Tristan
Kennedy pushed herself back on the bed until she was lying with her head against the pillow. She watched me, body so stiff I thought I probably could’ve picked her up and tossed her like a javelin. In the back of my mind, I knew she had to be a virgin, and the idea of being her first hummed inside my mind like some kind of pure, unfaltering note.
I wanted it.
I wanted her.
I didn’t have the slightest clue where things went after what we were about to do, but right now, I didn’t care.
I pulled my shirt over my head, dropping it to the carpet. “This is what got you so wet, isn’t it?” I took a step closer, letting her roam my body with her eyes.
She swallowed, nodding slightly.
I climbed on the bed, kneeling over her thighs so I could undo the button and zipper of her jeans. I watched her face as I did, savoring the mixture of confusion and excitement there. I liked that about her. Underneath all her anger and curiosity and fear, there was always a hunger for the thrill. I could relate to that, I guess.
I tugged her jeans down, pulling her white panties down slightly as I did. I threw the jeans to the floor, then sat back, admiring the view.
She reached down to fix her panties, but I held her hand back. The waistband was down over her hip, giving me the slightest glimpse of the triangular crease where her pubic bone met her thigh, as well as a hint of hair.
I stole one more look at her, then bent my head, kissing the spot. I recognized the scent of her skin now, and something about it had an almost chemical effect on me—like some sort of aphrodisiac. I kissed her exposed midriff, lifting her shirt up until I reached her bra.
“I don’t know about this, Tristan,” she said.
“I do. You’re legal now.”
Kennedy shot me a wry smile. “What, was that the only thing holding you back before now?”
“No. I was perfectly willing to become a fugitive of the law for you the other night before your mom showed.”
She reached up, idly hooking her finger in one of my belt loops. “What if I’m not good at it?”
I flicked open my button and pulled down the zipper. “Then I’ll enjoy teaching you.”
It looked like Kennedy was out of excuses, because her cheeks started to stain dark red. “What do I do?”
“It’s like letting go,” I said. I put my hand on her stomach, dragging it down in a delicious path that brought me to her panties, where I tugged at the waistband, pulling until I could see the gradually thickening patch of her pubic hair. “It’s the one time in your life you can stop thinking so hard about what you should do. You just do. Take. If you can get out of your own head, it’s the most natural thing in the world.”
Kennedy grabbed my waistband and tugged it toward her, making me nearly fall on top of her. She smiled wickedly, pulling my neck down and kissing me. “Like that?” Sh
e asked.
My dick was hard, but now it was throbbing painfully. “Lesson concluded.”
We kissed roughly while we both shimmied and shifted, trying to peel our clothes off without having to break away from our kiss for too long. Eventually, all our clothes were discarded to the floor or in various spots on the bed.
I sank down, letting my body lay against hers so my dick was sandwiched between our stomachs. She felt so warm and soft. I held myself up, taking some of the weight off of her as I kissed down from her mouth to her neck, then to her nipples. I sucked one into my mouth, relishing the way it instantly pebbled to a firm point for me. I grinned up at her. “She likes that.”
Kennedy turned her head to the side, too embarrassed to look back at me.
I kissed my way between her legs.
“What are you doing?”
I couldn’t help smiling. She was so innocent it hurt. “Close your eyes. Actually, feel free to watch. You’ll like this part.”
“W-wait,” she started to say when she realized what I was doing.
The moment my mouth pressed against her warm folds, she convulsed slightly, mouth hanging open in silent exclamation.
I bit my lip, letting it flick out from my teeth and tease her clit.
She shivered again.
“You taste like fucking candy, Wheels,” I said. I dragged my tongue from her entrance, all the way up her wet slit.
If she was still self-conscious, she wisely decided to keep quiet about it.
I set to work on her, not stopping until her thighs were pressing against my ears and both her hands were gripping tight fistfuls of the comforter. She arched her back, driving her pussy against my face as she came.
She was gasping for breath when I moved my way back up to her mouth. “Want to know how sweet you taste?” I asked, kissing her before she could answer.
She hesitated at first, then kissed me back. She buried her tongue in my mouth, gasping her sweet, choked moans against my lips.
Ruthless Love Page 12
