The International Kissing Club

by Ivy Adams

  Tanner studied her for a second and then nodded. “I guess you can take care of yourself then.”

  “Yeah,” she agreed. “I can.”

  Being alone for ten weeks had taught her that about herself. She was stronger than she’d thought. She didn’t need anyone to take care of her.

  She took a few more steps toward the tractor only to realize she’d forgotten to grab the keys from the barn. When she turned around, Tanner was dangling them from one of his fingers, as if he’d been waiting for her to realize she needed them. She grabbed for the keys, but he pulled his hand back, holding them just out of her reach.

  “Before you get started, I wanted to ask you …” He paused, as if suddenly unwilling to meet her gaze. He thumbed his hat off, gave his hair a scrub, and then yanked the hat back down.

  He looked so awkward, she nearly laughed. “What is it?” she prodded.

  “Isabel, did you hit on Carlos’s son, Jose?”

  Her laughter died in her throat. Probably smothered by her heart that leaped up to lodge itself just under her voice box.

  “Pfft.” She gave an awkward little laugh that came out more like a choking sound. Then she cleared her throat and coolly tucked her hands into her back pockets. “No.” She rocked back on her heels. “No. Why would I …” She cleared her throat again. “Why would I do that?”

  “Carlos just saw something the other day that made him curious. He’s very protective of his son.”

  “Of course,” she answered. Like this was a perfectly normal conversation to be having. And not awkward at all. “I mean, why would I flirt with Jose? He’s younger than I am,” she pointed out brightly. “He’s got to be … what? Fifteen?”

  “He’s twelve,” Tanner said flatly.

  “Twelve?” Surprise spiked her voice. “He’s twelve?” She felt her cheeks burning. As they should. Twelve was cradle-robbing. And vaguely illegal. “He’s … a really tall twelve.”

  Tanner looked amused by her shock. “I wouldn’t have thought anything of it, but the other day I noticed how close you were standing to Pieter.”

  She held up a finger. “You can’t tell me he’s twelve. He is definitely over fifteen.”

  “Yeah. He’s seventeen. But he’s also married.”

  “Married?” Her voice sounded all high and squeaky again. “What kind of seventeen-year-old gets married? I mean, even in Texas.”

  Tanner laughed. “He’s Mennonite.” He gave a shrug of his shoulders that somehow emphasized their width. “His parents own the farm next to ours and Pieter has helped out over here for years. Yeah, they marry young. He’s already got two kids.”

  Her mind boggled. “Christ, I’m a home wrecker!” And a cougar. How much worse could this get?

  “So you were hitting on him?”

  “No! I mean …”

  Please, earth, just open up and swallow me now!

  Nothing happened. After years of protecting and defending the planet, it wouldn’t do her this one small favor? She’d given up meat for the earth, and it couldn’t even put her out of her misery.

  She forced her gaze back to Tanner. He was not going to let this go.

  “It’s complicated,” she muttered.

  “I mean, I know it’s probably too complex for me to understand, given that I’m a purveyor of pointless violence, but if you use small words, I’ll try to stay with you.”

  Whatever. At this point, the only way to go was up. The explanation could not be any worse than this embarrassment.

  “With Piper, Mei, and Cassidy out of town, we thought it would be fun to start a little club. Just as a way of making sure we stayed in touch.”

  Tanner’s eyebrows shot up. “And let me guess. This club has to do with flirting?”

  “No, don’t be silly.” She nearly bit the inside of her cheek to keep the blush from creeping up her neck.

  “Isabel?” he prodded.

  “Flirting would be impossible to quantify.” She covered her mouth with one hand and muttered under her breath, “We’re counting kisses.”

  After an instant of surprise, a slow smile broke across his face. “Of course you are.”

  She propped her hands on her hips. “It’s not skeezy or anything. It’s just an innocent little game.”

  “Can I assume you’re behind and that’s why you’re hitting on all our employees?”

  “Yes. Damn it. I’m behind. Everyone else has scored points. But not me.” The words just tumbled out of her mouth. She couldn’t stop herself. “Piper has been kissing her way through the entire European Union. Cassidy has hooked up with some hot surfer. Even Mei—in Communist China!—has scored more points than I have.”

  “There are points?” he interjected.

  “Of course there are points! Not for me—naturally—but everyone else has oodles of them. There’s some chick in Paraguay who—”

  “Paraguay? Which of you went to Paraguay?”

  “Oh, it’s not one of us.” She quickly explained about the point system, making the Facebook page public, and the fans who had unexpectedly been popping up. “Girls in repressive developing cultures are getting more play than I am.”

  “You know, Isabel, if you just want some guy to kiss, I’m pretty sure Grosbeck would be happy to help you out.”

  “Eeew. Just because he dips Copenhagen doesn’t mean he’s been there. The stench of his unwashed body is not international enough for me.”

  Tanner nodded, as if finally getting it. “So it’s not just a kissing club. It’s an international kissing club?”

  “Well, when you say it like that, it sounds so skeezy.”

  Tanner held his hands up in the universal sign of surrender, but he was barely holding back his laughter. “Hey, I didn’t say it like anything.”

  She narrowed her eyes and growled at him. “Look, I said it was complicated.”

  This conversation was so over. She turned, looking for a disk plow she could impale herself on.

  “Hey,” Tanner said. “I was just teasing.” Then his expression darkened. “But I guess you’re getting a lot of that these days.”

  She hated seeing the glimmer of pity in his eyes, so she socked him on the arm and feigned bravado. “Yeah. I am. So back off, buddy. I have compost to turn, and if you’re not careful, I’ll dump it in the cab of your truck.”

  “I’m trying to be supportive here.”

  “Yeah, right,” she grumbled. She started to climb back on to the tractor, but Tanner gave her hand a tug as she stepped on the runner.

  “You know,” he began as she turned to face him, “maybe you’re making this harder than it needs to be.”

  “What do you mean?” Standing on the running board added a good foot to her height, which made her just a few inches taller than he was.

  He took a step closer to her. “If you just need to kiss someone from another country, I was born in Germany.” Tanner reached up and grabbed a lock of her hair. He started winding it around his finger. “My dad was stationed in Bamberg. I have dual citizenship until I’m eighteen.”

  Her heart was pounding so hard she had trouble concentrating on his words. Dual citizenship? What did that have to do with anything? Oh, right. International. Kissing. Club. Kissing.

  Was he really suggesting …

  Then he gave her hair one last tug. She felt herself falling forward and braced her hands on his shoulders. Her feet were barely grounded on the runner. Tanner’s arms wrapped around her waist. Her lips were just an inch away from his. And then they were on his.

  His lips moved gently under hers. Moist and smooth. So divine everything inside of her seemed to go all gooey and shivery in the same instant. Her feet slipped out from under her and he slowly lowered her off the tractor. She felt the strength of his arm muscles as he held her, the hard definition of his chest as her hands trailed down. Finally her feet touched the ground, but her legs didn’t feel firm beneath her.

  His tongue brushed against her lips and she opened her mouth to his. He t
asted faintly of spearmint gum and sweet water. He tasted like pure heaven. Her hands clenched against his shoulders, needing to cling tightly to something.

  Somewhere, in the distant corner of her mind, there was an alarm bell going off. Faint and almost indistinguishable. Set off by some part of her that remembered this was wrong. That she had no right to be kissing Tanner. To even be touching him. Or letting him touch her.

  But in that instant, she could barely hear the alarm, and she certainly couldn’t listen to it, because kissing Tanner was too frickin’ delicious. Like the best, finest chocolate she’d ever tasted. He made every other boy she’d kissed seem like a rank amateur.

  Had she even kissed any other boys?

  Before she could come up with an answer, Tanner slowly drew away from her, ending the kiss. For a second, he just stared at her, his face taut with the same desire and conflict she was feeling. She thought he was going to pull away completely, but then his mouth came back to hers for one more kiss. He ground his lips to hers in a way that felt hungry and possessive. As if he couldn’t not kiss her.

  Then abruptly he stepped back, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. He turned to look down the road. Staring at his profile, she couldn’t read his expression. Had no idea how he was feeling. Head still spinning, she followed his gaze. A car was driving toward them, kicking up dust.

  “Well,” Tanner said, his voice husky and low, his lips curved in a smile that looked almost sad. “Now you’ve got some points for your competition.”

  Izzy’s mouth dropped open. Before she could close it, Germaine’s car pulled to a stop by the barn. She swung open the door on the driver’s side and hopped out without killing the engine. She gave a broad wave. “Hey, sweetie!” she called. And then, with an overly perky smile, she added, “Hey, chica!”

  Supposing she was the chica, Izzy gave a halfhearted mute wave.

  “You’ll put the keys back in the barn when you’re done?” Tanner asked, his voice cooler and more distant than it usually was. As if moments ago he hadn’t had his tongue in her mouth.

  “Huh?” she asked.

  “Carlos will be by later tonight to lock up the barn,” he said, ignoring the fact that she hadn’t really answered. And then he turned away and jogged off in Germaine’s direction. “See ya later, Iz,” he called over his shoulder.

  Izzy couldn’t help herself. She watched him carefully—like the turkey buzzard she’d always compared Germaine to. Her breath caught in her chest as he approached Germaine. Please don’t let him touch her. Please let him blow her off.

  But as always, Germaine wrapped herself around him in a predatory kiss. Though Tanner’s hands came up between them and it looked—for a moment—like he was going to push her away, in the end, he didn’t. Big surprise. Izzy squeezed her eyes closed. When she opened them a second later, it was to see Tanner climbing into the passenger’s side of Germaine’s car. As if he’d been expecting her all along.

  Izzy finally managed to close her mouth. Or more to the point, her jaw spasmed in rage, closing it for her. What was that?

  What. The. Hell. Was. That?

  Tanner had just kissed her.

  For points.

  And then kissed Germaine mere seconds later. Dear God. Her spit had just mingled with Germaine’s. It was wrong in so many ways, she couldn’t even begin to list them.

  She felt the black bean taco she’d eaten for lunch crawling back up her esophagus. Even her food was disgusted by her behavior.

  She should not have kissed Tanner. Or rather, should not have let Tanner kiss her.

  Because he had a girlfriend. Germaine. Who was either her mortal enemy or her sort of friend. And whom he was obviously still with. Or he wouldn’t have just kissed her too and ridden off in her car.

  Izzy had hated being the only member of IKC who hadn’t scored any points. But now, she hated that Tanner had kissed her only for points. Because when he was kissing her, she’d forgotten about everything else. Even IKC. Even Piper.

  And knowing he’d kissed her just as some sort of favor to a friend? There weren’t enough SAT words in the world to describe how horrible it made her feel.

  There were only two bright points to this whole mess of crap. At least she finally had some points. And at least Piper was no longer pining away for Tanner. Lately she’d been so interested in this guy Sebastian, she’d seemed to have outgrown her crush.

  Self-disgust and defiant anger warring within her, Izzy whipped out her phone, pulled up the IKC page, and posted her points. She did it fast, before she could talk herself out of it. Before she could regret posting the points as much as she regretted earning them.

  IKC Fan Page

  The Official Fan Page for the International Kissing Club

  41,547

  people like this

  IKC Page

  Chapter 24

  Mei

  Mei sank onto the bed in her dorm room, reviewing her packing checklist and at the same time trying to think of one way in which this whole trip hadn’t been a total unmitigated disaster. Yeah, she couldn’t find one. Nothing about coming to China had turned out the way she’d planned.

  Learning Mandarin—a failure; her greatest success was that now she could order at Pizza Hut.

  Academic enhancement—a failure (see above); if not for Guiran’s help and infinite patience, she would have bombed all of her classes. As it was, her grades were so depressed and she was going to be so far behind when she got home, she would have to work doubly hard next semester and probably go to summer school if she had any hope of salvaging an acceptance to MIT.

  Discovering a link to her birth parents—a complete and total failure. While she’d known this was a long shot to begin with, she’d still held out hope that she’d find something, anything, that could tell her who she was. She owed what little she had found to Guiran, and for that she could never thank him enough.

  For a girl who’d always taken pride in her self-reliance, the trip had really knocked her ego down a peg or two.

  A light knock on the door interrupted her descent into Piper-like self-pity.

  “Guiran,” she said, and her tummy fluttered a little when she saw him standing there, his black eyes gleaming as he looked at her. She was going to miss the way he watched her, as if she was the only person who mattered to him.

  “Are you all packed?” he asked, nodding to her suitcase, which was lying open on the unused bed in the room.

  “Almost. Just the last minute things to add.”

  “I figured you would be.” He chuckled. As always, hearing him laugh made her want to also. She’d never known someone who was as easygoing as Guiran. She envied it. “Then you should be able to give me that guitar lesson you promised.” He stepped into the room.

  “Here? Now?” she asked, suddenly flustered. “There’s not really enough time for a proper lesson. I have to leave in a few hours for the airport.”

  “Calm down, Mei—so serious all the time. I thought we’d gotten you over that. I’m not saying I want you to teach me to play Hendrix in the next three hours, but I think there’s time to get in a chord or two. I bet I catch onto guitar faster than you did boarding.”

  Mei’s eyes narrowed a fraction. “Are you saying you’re a better student than I am?”

  He smiled and cocked an eyebrow in challenge. “Why don’t we find out?”

  “You’re on.”

  Two hours in and Guiran had mastered A to D and E. “I told you I was a better student,” he said, strumming handily between the chords. “It took you this long to stay on the board for more than ten seconds without crashing into something.”

  “Which doesn’t prove you’re the better student, only that I’m the better teacher,” she countered smugly.

  Guiran snorted. “You would think that. Always have to be the best, the first, the most.” His middle finger slid off the string, causing the note to go awry.

  “Here, like this,” she said, scooting closer. She draped her arm aro
und him, putting her left hand over his to show him how it was supposed to be done. “See? Smooth, with no pauses.”

  But then Guiran entwined his fingers with hers, and the room got very still. Wow. Though it was near subzero outside, the temperature inside seemed to have suddenly risen to tropical highs in a matter of seconds. Izzy had been right—there really was something to this teaching thing.

  Guiran turned so that he was looking over his shoulder at her and they were so close she could smell the spicy cinnamon of his breath. “I know you’re happy to be going home, Mei, but I wish you weren’t,” he said.

  As she rested against him, the need to flee didn’t seem so strong. Even with everything she’d done in China—or maybe because of it—her time with Guiran suddenly didn’t feel anywhere near long enough.

  “Having you here has made it almost … tolerable to be in this hole of a school,” he continued. “No, much better than that. It’s been fun.”

  “Guiran, you’re the one who made the time I spent here so much better than it could have been.” She paused, wanting to say more. Wanting to do more. But ever-practical Mei pulled away. She was leaving in a few hours—now was not the time to let her emotions run away with her. “I would have been miserable if you hadn’t taken pity on me.”

  He shot her a look that said she couldn’t be more wrong. “That wasn’t pity, Mei.” His eyes swept over her and his grin took on a whole new dimension. “Don’t forget saving you from prison in Communist China by dragging you out of that fountain.” They both laughed until she remembered how that escapade had ended.

  “Nobody back home will ever believe me when I tell them that story.”

  “Why not? You’re a guitarist, right? I think it’s a prerequisite for all rock stars to dance in their underwear in a fountain—even control freak ones.”

  “Yeah, but back home, all most people see is the control freak. I’m not some rebel rock goddess there. I’m Mei Jones, future valedictorian of Paris High School—at least, I hope I still am. After my academic performance here, I may be lucky to graduate at all.” Then she got very serious, the mirth leaving her voice. “But, Guiran, seriously … thank you for helping me search for my birth parents and for going with me to the SWI. Especially because I know it wasn’t easy for you, either.” She leaned in and kissed him, soft and gentle. His free hand came up and cupped her cheek while he kissed her back. It wasn’t like that kiss in the fountain, wild and impetuous and playful, and yet it was somehow better for it.