A Kiss in the Dark

by Sotia Lazu

  He put on his noise-cancelling headphones and flopped back on his bed with his favorite poetry collection. If Troy ever caught whiff of this, Nate wouldn’t hear the end of it.

  He was halfway through, when he thought he heard the doorbell. He turned the page and let Keats draw him in. He wasn’t expecting anyone anyway.

  Chapter Fourteen

  It took Eliza forever plus or minus a couple minutes to psych herself into ringing the Briggs’s doorbell.

  As soon as she did, she wanted to take it back and run away. She didn’t. She pulled on her martial arts training to force herself to stop fidgeting and square her shoulders. She wasn’t scared. She’d dealt with Nate a million times and she survived it.

  “What doesn’t kill me makes me—”

  “Stronger, I hope.” The male voice was as deep as Nate’s but more mature. The man at the opening of the door was undeniably Nate’s dad. His face was rounder than his son’s, his nose more prominent, and his white hair didn’t hold Nate’s curl, but their eyes were exactly the same, down to the naughty twinkle.

  Eliza hadn’t factored in Mr. Briggs when she thought this through. Still, she could do it. Parents loved her. She held out her palm. “I’m sorry for bothering you, Mr. Briggs. I’m Eliza. I go to school with Nate.”

  Mr. Briggs shook her proffered hand. “Call me Jonathan. Come on in.” His grip was firm. He looked like a no-nonsense guy. How could he have fathered the most confusing male on earth? “I’ll get Nathaniel for you. Would you like something to drink?”

  “Umm… I’m not sure he’ll come down if you say I’m here.”

  Jonathan pursed his lips and looked into her eyes long enough to make her want to avert her gaze, before giving her a smirk that made him the spitting image of his son. “Then perhaps it shouldn’t be up to him. His room is upstairs, last door on your right.”

  She glanced at the stairs, then muttered a thank you and took them up on trembling legs. She was going to meet the devil in his bedroom.

  She reached the room Johnathan said was Nate’s and paused outside his door. Nathaniel’s door. Funny how she’d never thought of Nate having a different name or a father like the kind, smiling man with the green-green eyes. She hadn’t given Nate’s place much thought, but never in a million years could she have imagined it’d be full of light, with frilly curtains and coasters on tables. Or crystal vases with flowers dispersed throughout the house.

  She was stalling.

  Should she knock?

  Maybe she should barge in, with a jolly hello, there.

  Her legs were a bit unsteady.

  She rapped on the door with her knuckles.

  “Come in, Dad.”

  “Guess again.” She opened the door and… walked into an alternate dimension.

  Nate wore glasses. And he was reading. She looked at the cover of the book he tossed aside. It was poetry.

  She wouldn’t be surprised to hear Welcome to the Twilight Zone any minute now.

  “I… Uh…” Eloquent. So very eloquent.

  Nate jumped off his bed. “What are you doing here?”

  He sounded different, too.

  Not knowing what to make of the information clouding her mind, she went for her favorite course of action—attack. “You kissed me. Why did you kiss me? Twice.”

  *

  He fell asleep while reading—there was no other explanation.

  Eliza was here, in his room, because it was a dream. Damn. He had his glasses on. His dad warned him on more than one occasion that sleeping with his glasses on was begging for a scratched eye. Nate took them off and placed them, lenses up, on his desk. The same desk the woman of his dreams leaned against, arms crossed and eyebrow arched.

  If she wasn’t something his mind conjured up, he was in quite a bind. And he should stop thinking like a wimp. In quite a bind. He snorted.

  “Well?” Eliza asked.

  She was real. Really real and really there, and unless he said something smart, he’d lose his only chance to make her see…

  “I felt like it.” The words jumped out and saved him from himself. He couldn’t make her see anything. She was only there because he owed her an explanation. After he satisfied her curiosity, she’d warn him to never bother her again, and then walk out of his life for good.

  She winced, as if he slapped her. “You felt like creeping up to me in the dark and kissing me, like—” She squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them again, they blazed. “And then, in my room... You kissed me again.”

  “You kissed me that time.” Did it matter? He’d returned her kiss. He’d deepened it. And he fucking wanted to repeat it.

  “You ran.”

  There was no accusation in her voice—she was stating a fact—but the reminder of what a coward he’d been stung.

  He still was a coward.

  She was so close, he smelled her shampoo. He could reach out, tangle his fingers in that shining mane of golden locks, and seal her questioning lips with another kiss.

  He wouldn’t. He couldn’t risk seeing that look of disappointment in her eyes again, so he’d do what he’d done from the start—scare her away.

  “I ran.” He nodded. “And so should you. Run along now.”

  She shook her head and pinned him with her gaze. “I will go.” But her voice trembled, and she didn’t move.

  She had to leave now. His self-restraint was wavering; if she stayed a moment longer, he’d lose all semblance of control. And this time he wouldn’t stop at a kiss.

  The swell of her breasts as her arms pressed them upward begged to be touched. Her skin seemed smooth and creamy and perfect. His fingers tingled with the need to trace her collarbone, the line of her neck, those perfect, perky breasts… feather over every part of her, before his touches became bolder.

  If she didn’t go, he’d make her his.

  He forced himself to move away and open the door.

  Arms still crossed, Eliza walked out of his bedroom. Just past the doorway, she turned and looked at him over her shoulder. “I guess I’ll go do what I feel like, then.”

  It sounded like a threat.

  * * * *

  She never should have gone to him.

  It was a mistake. First he ignored her, and then he was as cold as a popsicle. Nothing like the man who set her on fire with his kiss.

  “Everything okay?” Mr. Br—Johnathan asked as she threw open the front door.

  “Peachy.” That was rude. “I’m sorry. I’m fine. I just forgot something.” That Nate was a giant ass.

  Johnathan nodded. “Well, I hope to see you again soon.”

  She managed a watery smile. She wouldn’t bet on it.

  The air felt jammed in her lungs, and what made it hard to breathe was pure rage over Nate’s dismissal.

  He felt like it. He felt like kissing her freaking twice, so he went ahead and did it and fucked with her head.

  She felt like doing many things, but did he see her moon the Contemporary Lit professor? Did he ever catch her rolling on the grass or throwing the cafeteria meatballs on the linoleum, to see if they bounced? No. She never did things just because she felt like it.

  Maybe she should.

  Like she should forget tonight ever happened.

  But the way he kissed her, both times—like he was starving for her lips, like he needed her breath to survive, like he craved her… Why do that and then pretend it was nothing.

  It was nothing. He hated her, and she hated him.

  It was a good thing she went to see him. She needed to be reminded of the Nate who insulted, who made fun, who hurt her every chance he got. She knew how to deal with him much better than with the sensitive Nathaniel she was allowed a glimpse of.

  Too bad something inside her insisted the Nate who turned her away was nothing more than a front. Even as he told her to leave, his body had led him closer to her. That muscle in his jaw ticked, and she wanted to run her thumb over it and smooth the line between his brows with her fingers—b
anish it from the perfect features it was marring.

  She rolled her eyes at herself. Perfect features? Nate? Just ’cause he was a good kisser—great, magnificent, incredible kisser—didn’t mean he was a half-decent human being.

  She didn’t have something in mind when she said she’d do what she felt like. Truth be told, all she felt like was crawling into bed and sleeping for a week, but she promised Krista a late lunch, and it was almost time for an early dinner.

  She took her cell phone out of her back pocket and tapped in Krista’s number. “Chinese or burgers?” she asked when Krista picked up.

  “Hey. Where are you?”

  “Hey. Chinese or burgers? We’ll talk when I’m there.” The pause on the other end was long.

  “I’m sorry.” Krista didn’t sound like it. “Bill came by, and we’re going out to eat.”

  Great. Now she could hide under her covers and sleep for hours—or for a week. “Don’t worry about it. Have fun.” Eliza hung up and headed for campus.

  She picked up her pace when the first drop of rain fell on her nose, but it soon became apparent she wouldn’t outrun the oncoming storm. She ducked into the first fast-food place she happened upon, and ordered a portion fries, to munch on as she waited out the rain.

  * * * *

  It was half an hour since Eliza stormed out of his room. The feeling-like-an-ass thing should wear off any minute now. The sight of her eyes filled with hurt and anger would stay with him forever, but sometime soon he’d stop blaming himself and start blaming her for not letting sleeping dogs lie, or Troy for meeting her first and breaking her heart, or fucking serendipity for making sure their paths crossed when they couldn’t be together.

  At least his dad hadn’t noticed Eliza flee, or he’d be up here, sticking his nose where it didn’t belong and offering unsolicited advice.

  He should know better.

  His old man didn’t knock; he waltzed into Nate’s room. “Care to tell me about the young lady?”

  From where he sat on the floor, back against the wall, gaze trained to the afternoon sky outside his window, Nate didn’t see his dad’s expression, but he heard the smile in his voice.

  “Nate? What’s wrong?” All mirth was gone, replaced by alarm.

  His father never called him Nate; it was always Nathaniel, as if the longer name maintained the illusion that Nate was still the easygoing kid that liked chess and never broke the rules.

  Nate wasn’t that kid. “I’m wrong, Dad. Have been for a while.” Hearing the words hammered in their truth. He’d done everything wrong when it came to Eliza. He’d fucked up, and he’d hurt her, and he had to live with himself now. Without her.

  His dad sat cross-legged next to him and leaned his head back. “Wanna tell me about it?”

  Nate was sure he didn’t, but when he opened his mouth to say so, he found himself describing how he mingled with the wrong crowd in junior high “Yes, Dad. You were right about Troy all along.”

  His father didn’t say I told you so, though he’d repeatedly question Troy’s influence when the boys were in high school. He remained quiet while Nate told him all about how he found the girl of his dreams and instead of approaching her, he pestered and harassed her. How he kissed her. How she gave him the chance to come clean, and instead he drove her away.

  “So that’s it.” Nate rubbed his stinging eyes. “End of story. Next year I’m out of college, and she won’t have to see me ever again. Till then, I’ll leave her alone.”

  His dad made a humming noise in his throat. “I remember when I was young and in love and completely convinced I was beneath the woman I loved. Bless your mother’s soul for not believing that same thing and giving me nineteen beautiful years.”

  Nate huffed. “Not the same. You didn’t call Mom names and made her cry.” He thudded his head against the wall. “How did I think that was a good idea?”

  “Sometimes—”

  “No, I don’t need an actual answer. I knew it was stupid, but I preferred riling her up to seeing her mope over Troy.” Because in the end, it was all about what he preferred. He lied to himself when he thought he was doing this to protect her. He was an awful man who deserved to die alone.

  “She came for you,” his father said slowly. “She wouldn’t have come if there wasn’t something there. Between you and her.”

  She was only after an explanation. And he didn’t even give her that. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Well, you can start by getting off your butt and running to her, dumbass.” His dad held out his mug.

  “I’ve fucked up. I can’t—” Nate took a gulp from the proffered drink and felt it burn its way down his throat. Only it was cool. And smelled like alcohol. “This coffee is spiked, Dad.”

  “You’re very observant today, huh?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Belly full, but mood still dark and gloomy, Eliza reached her dorm as Cal exited the front door. She should have braved the rain; getting soaked would have been the lesser of two evils. But it was too late to pretend she didn’t see him, when he was holding the door open for her.

  “Eliza.” He nodded. “I was getting these from a friend.” He indicated the armful of books he carried. No apology for being an asshole and insulting her. Nothing. He was going to pretend the thing at the party never happened.

  She was too exhausted to confront a third man in less than twelve hours, though, so she brushed past him and went straight to her room. She needed to be in bed, STAT.

  She was pushing her keycard down the slot, when a large hand closed over her left shoulder.

  Her first thought was that Cal followed her up the stairs, and the invasion of her personal space was too much after the day she’d had. Years of martial arts called forth the primal instinct to defend herself. Without turning, she cut her gaze to the floor and spotted his left foot. She was about to stomp on it and spin around, to thrust an elbow in the guy’s ribs, when she realized she was looking at a familiar combat boot.

  “Was the overgrown boy scout what you felt like doing?” Nate whispered in her ear. “I saw him leave. He looked happy with himself.”

  His breath smelled like tobacco and alcohol, a scent she’d recently associated with the promise of a fairy tale before she knew it was his scent.

  She wanted to kiss him again.

  Instead, she went ahead and stomped on his booted foot with her heel, though the tough leather would absorb most of the impact. Still, he withdrew, giving her the space to strike with her bent arm.

  Nate jumped back awkwardly, but regained his balance at the same moment she turned to face him. He was leering at her, and she couldn’t help herself. Her fist flew toward his face, but he was faster.

  He grabbed her wrist and used his body to pin her against the door. “I kissed you because I wanted to,” he said. “I wanted you, since I first saw you.”

  This made no sense. He was always there to mess with her head and make her fume.

  He was always there.

  She might have asked him why he’d been such an asshole to her for so long—might have tried to push him away—but his lips found hers, and she forgot how to think.

  He let go of her wrist, and she bunched his shirt in her fists, to pull him closer. He was pressed against her, his body hard and firm. She needed more. Closer. Needed to feel his skin on hers. She didn’t care if he called Troy afterward, to say he nailed her. All she cared about was being naked with him.

  She broke the kiss. “You’re a jerk.”

  He found the column of her neck and laid open-mouthed kisses along its curve, his hands roaming the sides of her body. “I know.” He searched for her lips again, but the brief loss of contact had allowed her brain to work again.

  She turned away. “I just… It doesn’t make sense. If what you said is true, why wouldn’t you do something sooner? Why—”

  Nate tangled his fingers in her hair and tugged so she met his gaze. His eyes were so green. “I’m sorry. I’ve wanted y
ou for so long, but you were his, and then you were hurting. Wanted to piss you off. Pissed off is better than hurt.”

  Once again, she had before her the Nate she saw in his bedroom. But could she believe him? Had he gone through so much trouble to make her hate him, so she wouldn’t hurt anymore? Tears stung her eyes. He sounded pleading, yet her ire rose at the memory of all that had happened between them—everything he said and did.

  How dare he choose for her? In what universe was is okay for him to make her despise him, when things could have been so different if he’d shown her this side of him that looked at her as if she were more than just a girl?

  “So you’ve been an asshole for a year for my sake?” she asked.

  He nodded against her shoulder, playing with a lock of her hair. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  “So I’d hate you and get over Troy?”

  He mumbled something she couldn’t hear.

  “Huh?”

  “That was the plan.” He stood perfectly still.

  “You suck at plans.” She pushed him away, but the hurt in his eyes softened her. “Let’s hope you didn’t plan this.” She turned back toward the door and unlocked it.

  Nate stood frozen in the doorway.

  Eliza looked at him over her shoulder. “Are you coming?”

  The uncertain smile that blossomed on his lips reached his eyes. He followed her in her room, shut the door, and leaned against it. “Thanks for giving me the chance to explain.”

  She pushed aside her reservations and turned to face him. “Oh, I think I got the gist of it.” Her gaze locked on his, she started unbuttoning her top.

  He watched with hooded eyes. “Eliza.” Her name was a gruff whisper on his lips.

  She had no doubt he wanted her; no man had ever looked at her with such naked lust. Her decision to say to hell with consequences was reaffirmed. Whatever the outcome, for one night she’d know passion the likes of which she’d never felt before. She took in the flaring of his nostrils, and her fingers slipped over the smooth surface of the third button.