by Anne Eliot
“Don’t call me that. And I’m not playing,” he shouted back. “I’m in love. With you. Plain and simple. And I know you feel something too. Otherwise, that kiss would not have gone down like it did.”
“Well it’s not like I have any comparisons!” Vere stood up, pushed past him, and walked back to pace around the couch. She felt like she needed some distance between them. “How can you say any of this? You know I like Curtis. And since—before—forever. We only shared a few weeks and two kisses.”
“It was way more than two kisses. I think you want the wrong guy.” He stood and faced her. She could swear his beautiful, low voice had trembled.
Her heart wrenched into a ball. “But I can’t want you. I don’t even know who you are. If I feel anything for you beyond friendship—or if you feel anything for me—then it can’t be real.”
He threw up his own hands. “It is real. I know it is. Why would you say it isn’t? Can’t you just try to play this out?”
Jeez. He totally didn’t get it.
“Play it out with who?” she asked softly. “I only know bits of Hunter Kennedy. And Dustin McHugh is a guy we made up together. A character. Like from a book. The kissing was great. I’ll admit it till I die. But you know you have major skills in that area. So there is no way we both felt something like love during that kiss.” Her heart twisted again. “No way. Because as much as I don’t know who you are, I have no clue what love even is!”
“You’re lying,” he said. “You have to be.”
“I’m not.” Vere reached up to tighten her bun. It had sprung loose from all the shouting, not to mention her back dive off the couch.
I’ll call his bluff. Then he’ll see.
“Fine,” she said. “I know for a fact that Hunter Kennedy would never feel anything for a girl like me, ever. It’s been said more than once. And if Dustin McHugh says he’s in love with me, what does that mean? For me? Dustin McHugh is fictional, and he’s made it publicly clear that I’m not his type either. So where does that leave me? Seriously. Think about it.”
His expression grew dark. “If you truly believe that. If you have no feelings for me beyond normal affection—then kiss me again. Go on. Kiss me again, look me in the eye and tell me you feel nothing. I dare you.”
38: for the sake of practice
VERE
Vere tossed her head and shot him her best eye roll. “Fine. For the sake of practice, I’ll do it. You’ll see I’m right. You just got caught up in the moment, that’s all it is.” Vere marched over to him.
How hard could this be?
She paused and stared up at his very perfect face and then fixed her eyes on his lips.
Sadly, that’s when her mind went into coma.
She fixated on them.
Whoa. Was this their third kiss? Maybe this was their thirteenth kiss.
She’d sort of lost count on that second round. Maybe he was right that they’d already kissed more than twice. How did one divide up a really long kiss—like when did one kiss start and another end?
Vere swallowed and made a face at him. He didn’t even smile, or flinch or glare.
His entire face was now totally unreadable.
Feeling ridiculous because he’d been staring down at her this whole time, acting like some cold, piece of marble. And she’d been staring up at him for like two hundred minutes, mesmerized by his lips!
Like a weirdo.
Despite what HE said, officially, for the purpose of making a list about this someday in my journal—I count this as my third kiss.
First was...the first. Him kissing me.
And the second, was all me kissing him back.
And now, this ‘challenge kiss’. As in US, kissing each other.
For the sake of practice!
Time for your recovery, Vere.
Say something! Say something or run.
Vere took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a quick second and forced out some words. “First place the hands.”
Great. I sound like a robot.
Dustin arched a brow and folded his arms across his chest as though he meant to make this difficult on her.
Play it cool. You can so, do this.
“I said, first the hands.” This time her voice sounded a bit more normal. She pointed to his folded arms. “On my shoulders if you please, so you don’t hurt me.”
Dustin put his hands out and clamped them woodenly onto her shoulders. “Do you want me to close my eyes?” he asked.
Now who was the robot?
The guy had one hell of a poker face. She wished for some of that talent.
“Yes,” she answered. At least if she blushed, he wouldn’t see. “Now lean down a bit, you’re too tall.”
Obediently he closed his eyes and bent forward.
Vere felt an anxiety attack setting in. Her heart beat so loudly she was sure he could hear it. She felt pure relief that his eyes remained closed. It gave her the time to compose herself and paste on her own poker face.
Or pucker face. UGH. CONCENTRATE.
She’d show him this was just a plain old kiss and nothing more.
The feelings part was so not for them.
They were friends. He’d realize it soon enough.
Since his arms were already on her shoulders, she gingerly wrapped hers around his waist and pressed her lips deeply into his. She went for it—pressure, lips half open after the initial contact. To stay on track, she told her tongue to search for that apple taste again.
Yep. There it is, though sadly...it’s fading.
She thought she might be doing all right when his mouth opened in response and he started kissing her back. Big time.
His grip relaxed on her shoulders, and he pulled her into his embrace.
She couldn’t help but move even closer after that, because he had this cool way of half supporting her weight with his arms. She relaxed and allowed her hands to trail into his hair.
His arms felt so wonderful wrapped around her like this. She tried to keep her head straight.
Love. Special feelings. As if.
Her last conscious thoughts were that all guys probably had big, strong arms that would reach just like this around her. And soft lips that felt like they gave as much as she took. That had to be a normal thing too. Of course, how amazing a guy smelled had nothing to do with special feelings.
Fresh soap was simply a smell. NOT a feeling. Even if it smelled perfect. Absolutely perfect....
Vere was lost in the kiss. She floated all the way to the moon and back this time. She pulled away to take a breath and almost fainted because he was suddenly kissing the side of her ear, and her temple. Then he kissed a soft line down her neck.
Whoa. Neck kissing rocked.
She had to try it too, so she gently kissed the hollow spot where his heart beat between his collarbones. He had incredibly soft skin—just there.
She felt his hands moving all over her back and slowly up her waist. God but she loved how his hands felt on her...
What was happening? She had to make this stop but she didn’t want to.
Just one more...one more...so he would see...so he would understand...so she could know too....
She stretched up onto her toes and kissed his beautiful mouth again.
Softly.
Her entire core flamed against him while their tongues found each other yet again. This time she sort of knew him. The weird awkwardness had disappeared.
It—he—they—felt completely right.
She had no concept of how long they kissed after that, but possibly forever had passed them both by.
He straightened, looked down into her eyes and let her go.
Vere stepped back. Her heart felt heavy and her gaze riveted on the pulse beating in his neck. She had no air left in her body. Her knees shook, and the butterflies from her stomach had flown to block her vision and flooded her head with noise.
Any clear thoughts were now impossible.
He said, “If you hav
e nothing to say, I’ll go.”
Confused and shaken, a lump had formed in the back of her throat. Speaking was now impossible, could he not see that?
She needed time to think.
How was she supposed to know how to define any of this when she’d had no other kisses than his?
So, YES, fine. I felt something wonderful. Special.
Did that make it love? Was one kiss reason enough for both of them to lose their minds and try to change everything in their whole lives? Her heart ached at that thought.
No. He’s Hunter Kennedy. I don’t even know him, and he can’t be serious about a girl like me...he even said so...many times.
Vere knew she needed to be practical for both of them. She operated on facts, and facts would get her through this. She struggled to keep her voice from breaking. “I have to stand by what I said before. Dustin McHugh is not real. We both know it’s true. I don’t know what else to say to you as Hunter Kennedy,” she finished with a helpless shrug. “I just don’t...”
His eyes looked funny, different. They’d somehow turned a darker blue. Before she could look again he’d put on the glasses and his hat.
“Why did I think you, of all people, wouldn’t use me like everyone else?” His voice sounded tight, horribly cold.
“You offered. I didn’t—”
“Didn’t you?” He buttoned his retainer in to his shirt pocket. “Whatever. It’s for the best.”
Vere glanced at the ceiling.
No more words could come out right now. If any fresh air touched the back of her throat, she’d start crying. His comment was only fair—since they were dealing in facts.
I did just use him. I suck.
“You were right about the kisses. I lost my head after such a long, dry spell. I take it all back. There’s nothing there, like you said. We’re even now. You helped me. I helped you. The friendship thing is over, though. Thanks for the—fun.” He pulled his hat down low and glared at her before turning his back. “Good luck with Curtis.”
“What the HELL is going on in here?” Charlie’s voice exploded into the room.
Vere looked up and gasped, surprised at her brother’s intrusion. The cold air blasted her throat, making tears fill her eyes. She struggled to hold them back.
Charlie stood at the base of the stairs with his arms crossed. “Dude. Don’t think I don’t know you just made a move on my sister. I saw you kissing her.”
“How long have you been standing there?” Dustin flicked a sneer back at Vere. “Another Roth kid spying on private conversations. Chronic, that,” he said, his voice loaded with pure contempt.
Vere’s soul crumbled into bits. She locked gazes with Charlie and shook her head in warning. She would not survive another fight between them. Thankfully Charlie didn’t punch him.
“Move aside. I didn’t do anything Vere didn’t beg me for. Ask her. Or, maybe you approved this part of her ridiculous plan.”
Dustin shoved Charlie out of the way and took the stairs two at a time, not once looking back.
“What did you see?” she asked, after they both heard the back door slam.
“Only the two of you, full on, making out, Vere! What was that all about? I took off to be polite, but when I didn’t hear anything I came back in time to witness the end of your little fight. I’m glad you were fighting and not something else, or that guy would be dead right now. What were you thinking? Did you really ask him to kiss you?”
“Holy crap! You’re nuts, you know that?”
She nodded. More tears crept out.
“What about Curtis? What if he finds out you kissed another guy?”
“Curtis and I are still on. Nothing’s changed. I sort of did it for him.” She winced. “I was being stupid.” Vere cried openly now. “Don’t tell. Don’t tell anyone. Please.”
“More crying? That guy has turned you into a crazy person. Since when do you cry all the time?” Charlie yelled, but his hug said he loved her. He kept his arms around her as she sniffled into the front of his shirt. He added, “I’ll bash the pop-star anyway, if you want me to. Just for making you cry. AGAIN.”
“Oh, shut-up. You will not. He didn’t make me cry. I’m just crying because—I don’t know. Because I like to cry.” Vere sobbed again, now gripping on to Charlie for dear life. She let her tears flood.
“Whatever. That guy is officially on my hit list,” Charlie muttered, awkwardly patting her back now. “He’s not long for this world, that’s for damn sure.”
Vere wiped the tears from her face and looked up. “Just stay out of it, Charlie. He was helping. I swear. This is all my stupidity—my fault. I think I led him on. Leave it alone. I’m, I’m, I’m, just...” She gasped for breath and started sobbing again. “Fine!”
She wished she could explain what Hunter had said to her. Tell Charlie about Hunter’s life. How he’d been so depressed and alone. How he’d said he loved her.
But she didn’t know where to start. How could she talk about something—someone—she didn’t understand herself?
Besides, she had a party to go to.
39: people missed, things forgotten
HUNTER
He kicked holes in the Roth’s lawn on his way back to his aunt’s house. Everything Vere had brought up had hit the mark, dead on.
How in the hell could he expect Vere to want to be with him when he wasn’t even a real person? When he had no idea who he was anymore? Was he Hunter Kennedy, the shut-down pop star from Los Angeles?
Hell no. I know I’m not that person anymore.
But am I some geeked-out, normal dude? A guy who just made out with a girl, thinking he had a chance with her and got shot down?
Double hell no.
I’m not that either...but it just happened to you so...shit. What does that mean?
Was he simply just the most messed up person in the world?
Are you Hunter Kennedy, or are you Dustin McHugh?
As he made his way onto the front porch, he turned and sat on the top step, taking in the purple-orange sunset. He rested his elbows on his knees and let his hands support the impossibly heavy weight of his head.
He couldn’t believe how much he really had fallen for Vere, not to mention how he’d pinned his heart to his sleeve back there. How badly she’d crushed it, even though she’d been right.
He couldn’t stand that he’d let himself even be in such a vulnerable position. It was so not like him to leave himself unguarded.
Rejection—real rejection—was way more painful than anything he’d been through so far in his whole life. He shoved away the images in his mind of the unbelievable kisses they’d shared. How Vere had felt so perfect wrapped in his arms.
He owned the desolation he was feeling now.
He’d walked right in and asked for it.
He should never have kissed her. He should never have played at being Dustin so deeply...
At least she’d helped him see that he had an even more disturbing thing to ponder now. Before he could even address how badly Vere had broken his heart, he had to deal with the reality of himself.
According to Vere, Dustin McHugh wasn’t real.
According him, Hunter Kennedy—the old Hunter Kennedy—wasn’t real anymore either.
Hell. The girl had every right to say what she did.
Are you Hunter Kennedy or are you Dustin McHugh?
Hunter sighed, not wanting to admit what scared him the most: He couldn’t ditch the nagging thought that he might be no one. No one at all.
The porch light flipped on, and the door behind him opened. But he didn’t turn around. Aunt Nan was probably wondering what the heck was going on. Hopefully she was making some sort of awesome dinner.
Whoever he might be—he was definitely always starving.
He stood and straightened quickly, but kept his back to the door, trying to compose himself. He didn’t want her to worry or catch him on the edge of bawling like a baby.
“I’ll be right in. Give me a
second. Okay?”
The door closed and he was glad she hadn’t seen his face. He’d have to hide behind his glasses until he got himself together.
“Hunter?”
He tensed and held his breath. Had he imagined that voice? He looked straight ahead and shook his head.
“Hunter. Hunter Kennedy. Can I at least have a hug?”
“Mom?!” He turned to see a very different mom standing by the door. She’d cut her hair short, and was wearing jeans.
Mom never wears jeans, does she? Am I dreaming this?
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Please know. I’m so sorry.” Her eyes looked huge and very blue under the porch lights. The apology in them seemed so real his heart swelled with hope.
Hunter took off his glasses to get a better look as he approached her. Some more of that suspect moisture had come back around his eyes.
Damn. But it can’t be helped.
He launched himself at his mom and gave her the biggest hug he’d ever given anyone in his life. “You got my message,” he whispered, not caring that he might be clinging to her.
“Yes,” she sniffed, possibly clinging right back. “I was packed that night. I had to see you, sorry it took all week for me to get things arranged with Martin and...other stuff.” She wrapped her arms around him tightly.
“I missed you so much. God. Mom, did I miss you.” He let the tears come, so grateful to know at the very least, he was still someone’s son. He’d figure out the rest soon.
“I missed you too, Hunter. I missed you too.”
40: telling the truth
VERE
It took Vere an entire hour to stop crying. Then it took another hour for her stupid red eyes to un-puff, and it took another whole thirty-two minutes after that to stop thinking about all the insane things Dustin, or...Hunter...had said to her and to get her courage up to come to this party at all. Which is why they’d made it to Kristen’s quite a bit late.
