Kissing The Bad Boy

by Melanie Marks

“When he’s dumb enough to jump off the roof—yes,” she teased. “Especially when last week the ‘cripple’ stole my cookie.”

  “Last week I wasn’t a cripple,” he said, trying to chase after her as she waved the cookie out of his reach.

  I grabbed the handles of his wheelchair, and helped him “chase” her.

  We were having all kinds of fun, racing all over the house—until we almost rammed into Hunter who was covertly watching us around the corner (aka: spying).

  I abruptly stopped running—and breathing.

  “When did you get home?” Tommy asked Hunter the question I wanted to know as well. Then he added, “And why were you spying on us?”

  Hunter glanced between Tommy and me with a wry smile. “I was just seeing how you liked the babysitter I got you,” he said, ruffling Tommy’s hair. “—pretty sweet, right?”

  Tommy ran his fingers through his shaggy locks, like trying to undue his brother’s mussing. He rolled his eyes, his cheeks turning a little red. “She’s not my ‘babysitter.’ She’s just my helper. Right now she’s helping me get Tia! Come on, let’s go, Jane!” Tommy instructed, and I immediately dashed off with him again, chasing after laughing Tia.

  ***

  I didn’t see Hunter again until much later that night. Embarrassingly, when he hadn’t come to dinner, I think his mother realized I was disappointed, though I tried my hardest to hide it, tried to act like I didn’t even notice he wasn’t at the exquisitely fancy dinner table. But my heart fell when I realized he wasn’t coming. It was alarming that it did that—fell. But it did. Like a brick.

  His mother explained almost sympathetically, yet still quite sardonically, “My oldest son is very socially ‘in demand.’ I doubt we’ll be seeing him much this summer. Though I had thought he’d be around for at least a day or two—what with you here, after he begged for me to have you come here.”

  Tommy grinned, raising his eyebrows at me. “He really begged.” Then he added, “Mom had hired a mean nurse.”

  Mrs. Gilly laughed. “She wasn’t mean—she was … stern.”

  “Mean!” Tommy contradicted.

  “The meanest meanie ever,” Tia added. “And not fun at all. Thank goodness Hunter made Mom hire you, Jane, instead.”

  “He didn’t make me,” Mrs. Gilly said with a sigh that had a note of satisfaction in it. “He promised to play the violin all summer—and stay out of trouble. If he manages to do that—well, then Jane here is a miracle.” She winked at me. “We’ll see how long it lasts.”

  “We’ll make it last forever,” Tia announced. “We love Jane and want her to stay.”

  “And we hate mean nurses!” Tommy moaned.

  “Then hope your brother is able to stay out of trouble,” Mrs. Gilly said. “But don’t hold your breath for that.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN:

  Tia and Tommy had me read them story after story before they finally let me tuck them into their beds.

  As I left Tommy’s room, I was startled to find Hunter hiding around the corner from his brother’s bedroom. He’d obviously been listening to my stories—spying again!

  My heart fluttered wildly finding him smiling in the dark. “I knew you would be good at tucking them in bed,” Hunter told me in a husky whisper.

  His warm hand took mine, making my heart explode. He placed a finger against his lips, indicating for me to be quiet, as he led me into a room—his room apparently.

  He shut the door, his eyes twinkling. “Don’t be afraid—I’m not trapping you in here. I just didn’t want my mom to hear—she might get upset.”

  I blinked. “At what?”

  He shrugged, still smiling, like he was delighted to have me in his room, yet all he said was, “She gets upset about everything.”

  “Well, you dared your brother to jump off the roof.”

  Hunter breathed out a laugh, “I didn’t expect the dope to do it!”

  “Well, the ‘dope’ said you did it before.”

  Hunter laughed another husky soft laugh. “I did. But I didn’t break my legs—or know that he knew I did that.”

  I informed him, “The boy seems to worship you.”

  “Well, he shouldn’t.”

  “That’s a big No duh.”

  Hunter’s grin quirked, “Hey, you don’t even know me.” But he said it around an amused grin. After a moment he added huskily, “However, I’d like to change that.” He edged closer to me, “I’d like for you to get to know me—and me to get to know you.” He raised his eyebrows, “Us to get to know each other—very well,” he murmured soft and husky.

  His words and seductive voice, and him being so near—it was too much for my inexperienced heart. I quickly lurched away from him, abruptly changing the subject and tone, since this one was making my heart long to leap out of my chest and deem itself his. “You don’t even know me, though. So, I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

  “You’re being my brother’s assistant,” Hunter said, getting close to me again. “And you seem to be doing a good job of it,” he murmured huskily, his lips drawing closer and closer to mine with each word, seeming as though he was going to kiss me. For a moment I held my breath, and found myself leaning in for it, anticipating it with all of my longing almost-fifteen-year-old heart—but then I jumped away. I mean, I didn’t even know this boy. At all. And it would be my first kiss. I didn’t want to waste it on a player-boy. One that stole it the very first day he spoke to me.

  Hunter groaned slightly as I jumped away from him. Blinking, he eyed the distance I put between us like it was painful for him to bear. Then with a tiny grin, he ducked his head, as though in playful defeat. Yet all he said was, “Aw.”

  “I want answers, bucko,” I told him, taking another step back.

  He grinned slightly. “Answers? What’s the question?”

  “Why am I here?”

  “My mom hired you to help out my brother for the summer. In case you haven’t noticed, his legs are broken. And also if you haven’t noticed—he seems to like you.” His grin quirks. “—I like you too.”

  “Right.” I rolled my eyes, “Yet you couldn’t even make it to dinner tonight.”

  A pleased (though playful) grin flashed on his lips. “You noticed!”

  He said it like—score!

  Then he added quickly, “Don’t be hurt. I only did that for my mom’s sake. I mean, believe me, I wanted to be there with you—big time. But I knew my mom knew that, so I had to play it cool. She thinks I have a crush on you—which obviously I do—but I had to downplay it or you’re going to get kicked out so fast. And I don’t want that.” He raised his eye brows, “—do you want that?”

  I shook my head.

  “Good,” he said softly, then went on matter-of-factly, “So, I had to act normal—which is, I go off with my friends whenever I get a chance—always. So, tonight she offered to let me go out with my friends when they called. If I turned them down she would have immediately known I like you as much as she suspects. I mean, I begged to get her to let you come here—”

  “Why’d you do that?” I asked, interrupting his other explanation.

  His eyebrows went up. “Do what?—beg her to have you come here?”

  I nodded.

  His grin grew to epic proportions. “You’re not ready to hear yet. Or more like, I’m not ready to tell you.”

  That of course made me respond with a clever, “Huh?”

  His grin just grew even bigger. “I’m going to change the subject, so don’t think this has anything to do with your question—it doesn’t—but it’s an interesting fact. I mean, it was interesting to me.” He pauses a moment while he watches me wait, his smile still quite huge. “You’re name is Jane Air—right?”

  I nod. “Like the book—only spelled differently.”

  He leans his head towards mine slightly. “Well, my name is Hunter Rochester,” he emphasizes his last name, like to make sure I’m aware of the significance. Which I am—of course. The man Jane pines for i
n the book is “Mr. Rochester.” So that is quite interesting. Actually, it gives me tingles and goose bumps, but that could just be because I’m pinning for the dude and enchanted that he actually knows stuff about my favorite novel and that he’s aware of the special significance of our names.

  These are all quite intoxicating things to me.

  Yet, because it’s easiest to be chill about, all I respond with is: “But your mother’s last name is Gilly.”

  Hunter nods. “Right. My mom remarried and got a new last name—though my stepdad is a dirt-wad and she’s divorcing him as we speak, which is why she finally hired you, I think. To let my brother have a little fun while she’s busy trying to act like she’s not suffering and wounded—but she is.”

  My lips form an “o.” Because, well, that’s incredibly sad.

  Hunter doesn’t give me a chance to dwell on it though. He quickly goes on, “It’s a little weird though—don’t you think? Us being like characters in a romance novel.” He leans his head closer to me again, “Romantic, right?”

  Before I can say anything he gives a little laugh. “Maybe not. I never actually read the book, but I’ve heard often enough that the dude—Mr. Rochester—he goes blind in the end, so I’m a little nervous.”

  I roll my eyes. “Do you have a French little girl and a crazy wife?”

  “No.”

  “Then you’re safe then.”

  He scratches his chin. “I do have a crazy ex-girlfriend though.”

  “Well, keep her away from lit candles and don’t lock her in your attic.”

  “Okay. Though she’s locked herself in my room before—and put my house key down her bra where she wanted me to fish it out—this all happened in front of my current girlfriend, by the way. Well, she was my current girlfriend, at the time. No longer though. I’m now completely free—one-hundred percent available.”

  I clear my throat, choosing to overlook his blatant innuendo that he is “free” to get together with me if I so desire. (I mean, the dude has had at least two girlfriends, and has already tried to kiss me—though we just met today. He’s obviously very fast, and experienced, and that is not me, nor what I’m looking for in a first boyfriend. Quite the opposite, actually.) So, instead of responding to his mushy innuendo, I stick to the Jane-and-Mr. Rochester-thing, like that’s all we’re really talking about.

  I nod and respond mock-seriously to his crazy-girlfriend info. “Let’s make a pact not to get married—just to be safe. Maybe we should even write up a contract, since you seem intent on making the story come true, and I’d really rather you didn’t. I don’t want another boy going blind over me.” I add quickly, “I can only take so much guilt.”

  He nods mock seriously as well. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll have my lawyer write up a contract. I don’t want to turn blind either. No offense to you. I mean, I hear the guy and Jane get together in the end and live happily ever after. But really, I need to be able to see. I mean, I play hockey. My teammates would kill me if I went blind—even if I fell in love. Though that that’d freak them out as much as me going blind.”

  “Okay, it’s settled,” I grin. “No marriage between us—and no locking your crazy girlfriend in the attic.”

  He tilts his chin. “Again, I really can’t guarantee that last part. I mean, I won’t lock her in there. But she’s very unpredictable. And likes to hide my keys in inappropriate places—at inappropriate times.”

  I tilt my head, finally actually dwelling on the instances he’s stated. “How old are you anyway?”

  He only grins at this question. When I wait, he hedges, “Look, I got a late start on this ‘dating’ stuff,” he murmurs without actually answering. “So, it seems I somehow made up for it really fast—and got ahead.”

  “Which means?”

  “Well, technically, I’m only fifteen—well, okay, almost fifteen—but the girl I’m speaking of was sixteen at the time. She might have thought I was older. And she might be able to drive now.”

  “Which means she’s sixteen?”

  He nods. “But look, I’m mature for my age. Things have happened that have made me … mature.”

  “Like having girls lock themselves in your room?—and trying to run you over with their car?”

  Trying to hide his smile, he slowly nods, trying to act as though he’s being sincere and forthright. “That and other stuff—yeah.”

  “Well, I’m only fourteen,” I tell him.

  “Me too,” he says.

  “I’m having trouble believing a word you say.”

  “Well, I wasn’t sure how old you were. But I don’t want to scare you off with my scary ex-girlfriend tale. I shouldn’t have told you—only, it just fit with your novel, so I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. But here’s the truth—I’ve only had the two girlfriends, and really, I’m using the term very, very loosely.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning, they used the word in the past—in reference to what they thought they were to me—and I didn’t correct them. But until they used the term “girlfriend” I hadn’t especially thought of them as that.” He shrugs, “I have a lot of friends. I thought that was all they were—until I heard them say otherwise. And, you know, Liza put my key down her shirt.”

  He seems to be saying this as though to assure me he’s had less experience with girls than his story had indicated. As though to sound less “player” I guess.

  Whatever.

  I shudder my eyelids, “Well, I’ve never even kissed a boy.”

  His eyes spark. Before I even realize what’s happening, he backs me closer to the wall and places his warm hands on my burning cheeks. Then his mouth is on mine, tentative and sweet, then growing bolder, hungrier. Whoa! Holy smokes! My knees go wobbly and the world is tilting, spinning, full of fireworks—then he suddenly pulls away.

  “Sorry,” he says with a breathless laugh. “It was just supposed to be a joke.”

  He touches his lips and grins. “That was my first real kiss.”

  “Mine too.” I didn’t know what else to say—my brain was swimming … but not with words.

  He grins, “Yeah. You said that.”

  Heat swamps my cheeks. “Oh. Right.”

  I seriously can’t think straight.

  I tilt my head at him. “That was really your first kiss?”

  He still has two fingers pressing his lips, like he can’t believe what he just did with them.

  But slowly he nods. “I was waiting,” he says softly. “I wanted my first kiss to be special.”

  He looks into my eyes. “… and it was.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE:

  There was a knock on Hunter’s bedroom door as soon as it was over—the awe-inspiring, swoon-inducing kiss, I mean. I was still in a dreamy fog, enraptured from it and couldn’t think straight. Or at all. But Hunter looked panicked at the knock and quickly gestured for me to hide in his closet, which I did, with his gentle assistance, his warm hand pressed to the small of my back. Mmmm. Then into the closet I went. (Though it smelled like boy in there.)

  Hunter’s mom came into his room, and I could hear them talking—gasp!—about me.

  His mom kept telling him he had to do as he promised if I was going to stay—he had to take violin lessons all summer—and actually go to them. And he had to stay out of trouble, and he was in no way to get ‘romantically’ involved with me.

  Through the slates in his closet door, I saw him turn white at that.

  He didn’t actually promise that he would do that though. Instead, he said, “I will take violin lessons all summer—I promise.” Then he quickly, expertly changed the subject, “Tia and Tommy seem to like Jane a lot better than your nurse.”

  Mrs. Gilly smiled sardonically, “You seem to like her better than the nurse as well. Violin lessons, Hunter—you said you abhor them.”

  “I do—yes, I like her, okay?”

  His mother nodded, looking suddenly sympathetic, yet grim. “She’s a very pretty girl. And seems kind. But Hunter, I can’t
have a girl living in the house if you’re going to be trying your charm on her. She’s here to work and get away from that dreadful aunt—not become your conquest.”

  “I know,” he said under his breath.

  “As long as we’re clear,” she said as she opened the door. “Are we?”

  “Chrystal,” he muttered.

  When she left, he immediately opened the closet door for me, his eyes looking defeated. “You heard our conversation?” he asked.

  I nodded, then swallowed, “So, we need a new contract.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut. “Not just no marriage?”

  “Right. No more kissing either.”

  He winced. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN:

  Ugh! So, yes. The very first day I met Hunter, I kissed him.

  Talk about a smooth player—that was Hunter. Obviously.

  And wow! His kiss—oh man! It had me swooning. For days. Weeks!!

  But having gotten his first kiss out of the way, Hunter no doubt started kissing other girls. Maybe not his crazy ex-girlfriend that could drive and had a tendency to put things in inappropriate places, but still. He obviously had girlfriends.

  I know because he would talk about them at the dinner table—whenever he chose to grace us with his presence, that is. Which wasn’t often. (Sadly.)

  He would talk about this girl and that girl, then wink at me across the table if I ever dared look at him—which I tried not to do. Due to wanting to strangle him and everything. (My first kiss—WASTED!!!) (On a total playboy player.) (Ugh!!!!)

  “You’re all white, Jade. You look like you’re going to be sick,” Hunter texted me once at the dinner table, right as he was in the middle of telling his mom about this girl he met at his violin lesson. He had said the girl suggested dirty stuff to him, and invited him to come over to her house for a “private recital.”

  After he watched me read his text, he smiled quite amusedly as I quickly texted him back, “I am sick. I’m going to puke.”

  He laughed softly. Almost immediately I got another text from him: “I’m only saying this junk to rile up my mom. It’s making her nervous about sending me off to violin lessons every day, and making her wish I could find a nice girl like you. Two birds with one stone. Maybe even three birds—hopefully—since I’m secretly hoping it might make you get rid of your contract. Not the promise-not- to-marry-each-other one, but the other one—the no-kissing one … though I have to admit, I wouldn’t mind marrying you.”