Kiss Kiss

by Various Authors

  Lauren looked up again, scanning the kitchen one more time, and she found Mark standing in line for the keg with two of his friends.

  Michael had been right. It would have been nice if he’d at least hung out with her for a little bit afterward.

  She was an idiot.

  And just as the thought crossed her mind, she saw a crowd of people part as someone entered the kitchen from the opposite side.

  Her heart leapt into her throat when she realized it was Michael.

  He moved quickly, passing everyone who was waiting in line for beer as he walked right up to the keg, cutting in front of Mark and grabbing the tap.

  “Whoa, buddy,” Mark said. “There’s a line—”

  Instantly Michael whirled, punching Mark in the face so hard that his feet came off the floor before he crashed back against the boy behind him and tumbled to the ground.

  Lauren gasped loudly as she jumped up off the coffee table, her beer splashing to the floor. The sound—the sickening, cracking thud as his fist connected—carried all the way to the living room. She knew she’d never forget that sound.

  Within seconds, people were scattering everywhere, most moving away from the scene as Mark’s friends moved toward it, some of them trying to help him off the floor while the others tried pulling Michael away.

  Lauren ran toward the kitchen, immediately noticing the blood on the floor as she entered. It was everywhere, looking like it was coming out of Mark’s mouth or nose.

  And then her eyes were pulled to the sudden, sharp movement of Michael ripping free from the boys who held him as he charged Mark again.

  “Stop!” Lauren screamed, launching herself on top of the island counter that stood between her and the chaos, knocking over several bottles in the process. “Stop it!”

  She tried to take his face in her hands, tried to get him to look at her, but his forward motion caused her to lose her balance. She flew backward, gripping the front of his shirt to steady herself as she landed on her backside on the countertop, sending a few more bottles shattering to the floor.

  “Michael!” she screamed. For the first time since she’d known him, she felt a genuine flash of fear. He looked crazed, not even present.

  “Michael, please!” she cried, feeling the tears building behind her voice.

  He grabbed her wrist firmly, his eyes darting to hers, and once he realized who was gripping his shirt, she saw his eyes soften slightly. In that moment of hesitation, the boys that were behind him grabbed him again, yanking him out of her grip and restraining him long enough for the other boys to get Mark out of there.

  Lauren sat on the counter surrounded by broken glass, her chest heaving and her eyes wide.

  “Relax, bro! Relax!” one of the boys was yelling as a third ran to help them restrain Michael.

  Lauren’s eyes were locked on him as she watched him scan the scene, taking in the people backing away, the blood on the floor, the arms fighting to control him.

  He jerked forward again, breaking free from the boys, but this time he moved toward Lauren.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he said through labored breath, extending his hand to her.

  Her body was shaking with adrenalin, her breath coming in gasps. She glanced over at Jenn, who was standing on the threshold of the kitchen, both hands clamped over her mouth and her eyes wide.

  For a moment, it looked like she regretted the advice she’d given Lauren.

  But then Michael grabbed Lauren’s hand and pulled her off the counter, towing her out of the room, and as he dragged her past Jenn, she dropped her hands and smiled. “This is it. Call me,” she whispered quickly as Lauren passed her.

  As soon as they were outside, Michael released her hand as he tore down the driveway, and Lauren walked double-time to keep up.

  When they reached his car a few feet down the road, he yanked open the passenger door before he stormed around the front of the car to his side.

  “Are you okay to drive?” she asked softly.

  He got in and slammed the door, and the next sound was the thunderous sound of the car starting. She stood there, hesitating for a moment as she took a shaky breath.

  “Please just get in,” she heard him say roughly from inside the car, and she swallowed before she slid into the seat and closed the door, buckling her seatbelt.

  He took off like a shot, peeling rubber as they turned down the street, and Lauren leaned forward and grabbed the dash.

  “Michael, please!” she said, and instantly, he took his foot off the gas and the car slowed to a reasonable speed.

  She exhaled heavily, sitting back in her seat as she glanced over at him. He was looking straight ahead, his expression unreadable.

  Maybe this was it. Maybe Jenn was right, and this would be the moment he’d confess his feelings. I want you. I don’t want you to be with anyone else. I want you to be mine, only mine.

  But there was nothing.

  They drove the entire way to her house in silence. He didn’t even turn the radio on.

  When Michael finally pulled into the top of her driveway and cut the engine, they sat there for a few silent moments before Lauren finally sighed. “That really wasn’t necessary,” she said. “You could have gotten arrested.”

  “That kid mouthed off to me!” he snapped.

  Lauren turned toward him, her expression unimpressed. “He said ‘whoa, buddy’ because you cut him in line.”

  “He’s got a big fucking mouth!” Michael yelled, cutting her off. “And you had no business getting involved. You could have gotten hurt!”

  Lauren closed her eyes and shook her head. She knew better than to try to have a conversation with him when he was like this. She took a small breath and turned to get out of the car.

  He reached out and grabbed her arm, gently this time.

  “You’re not hurt, are you?”

  His voice had softened significantly, although she knew him well enough to know that he was still annoyed.

  “No, I’m fine,” she said softly.

  Michael released her arm and exhaled heavily. “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

  “You didn’t scare me,” she lied. “I just…I wish you would try to keep your head next time, okay?”

  “And I wish you would use better judgment when it comes to guys next time, okay?”

  Lauren looked at him for a second before she nodded silently.

  “Good night, Red,” he said, leaning over to kiss her forehead before he reached across her and opened the car door.

  She got out and walked down her driveway in a stupor, knowing Michael wouldn’t leave until she was safely inside her house.

  No sooner than she opened her front door, she heard the phone in her bedroom ringing, and she ran upstairs, although she already knew who it would be.

  “Yeah?” Lauren said as she sat on the edge of her bed.

  “You’re killing me. What happened?”

  “Nothing,” Lauren said, half-heartedly kicking off her shoes.

  “Nothing?” Jenn asked. “What do you mean, nothing? Guys don’t beat up other guys over girls they don’t want.”

  “He went after him because he mouthed off to him at the keg,” Lauren said.

  “Oh, come on, Laur, you don’t really buy that, do you? Even Del’s not that crazy.”

  Lauren sighed as she flopped back onto her bed. “Either way. Remember when Tommy Greene beat up that guy who slept with his sister?”

  There was only silence on the other end of the line, and Lauren knew she had Jenn cornered. “I’m telling you, I’m like his little sister. He told me to use better judgment with the next guy. That’s hardly claiming me for his own.”

  There was another silence before she heard Jenn sigh on the other line. “So that’s it, then?”

  Lauren closed her eyes, because she didn’t know what other choice she had. The bottom line was Michael Delaney never held back from what he wanted, and if it was her, she would know.

  “Well, this
sucks,” Jenn said. “Because after what Mark Valero went through tonight, you’re gonna have a hell of a time getting another guy to hook up with you.”

  November 2011

  Lauren sat in the passenger seat of Adam’s car, alternating between glancing at his profile and looking out the window, trying to figure out where they were going.

  When he had called her a few days ago to finalize their plans, he’d only told her to dress casually. Lauren had pressed him for more information, but he was deliberately vague. It didn’t bother her then—in fact, she found it kind of endearing—but now that they were in his car driving to some unknown destination, it was driving her crazy.

  When she looked back at him for what must have been the tenth time, she saw a smug smile curving the corners of his lips.

  “You enjoying yourself over there?” she asked, her brow quirked.

  “Am I enjoying watching you squirm? Of course not.”

  “Doesn’t look like it from where I’m sitting,” Lauren said, folding her arms and fighting her own smile as she glanced out the passenger window again.

  “We’re almost there,” he said, his voice breaking on the chuckle he could no longer contain, and Lauren shook her head.

  “That settles it. I’m definitely escaping through the bathroom window once we get there,” she said, earning her a full-blown laugh as Adam slowed the car and turned up what Lauren thought was a side road, but ended up being a wide driveway.

  Through the dusk, she saw the flash of the sign at the bottom of the drive: “South Hills School of Business and Technology.”

  She turned toward him, her brow lifted. “You’re taking me to school?”

  “Sort of,” he said, pulling into a parking space in front of one of the buildings.

  Before she could ask anything else, Adam was out of the car and walking around to her side, opening the door for her. He extended his hand to help her out, closing the door behind her, and Lauren had to bite her lip to hide her smile when he intertwined their fingers rather than letting her hand go as they began walking toward the glass doors at the front of the building.

  They walked down the corridor in silence, stealing little peeks at each other as they went. His playful glances—along with the feel of his hand clasping hers—lit a warmth in her belly that reminded her of being a teenager again.

  Lauren couldn’t deny how good he looked tonight: a pair of nice jeans and a black button-down shirt, his blond hair looking somewhat unkempt and yet still impeccable at the same time.

  And he smelled amazing.

  “Here we are,” he said, gesturing with his head toward the large sign on the door they had stopped in front of.

  Couple’s Cooking Class: Saturday Evenings, 6:30 p.m.

  As Lauren read it, a slow smile broke over her face.

  “I figured any guy could take you out to dinner, but how many guys can cook you a gourmet meal?”

  “Impressive,” she said, looking up at him. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

  “Oh…well, I can’t, actually,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand and shrugging. “Hence this class.” Lauren laughed as he added, “But it still counts, right?”

  He reached for the door and released her hand, placing his on the small of her back as she walked into the large room. There were about ten cooking stations, complete with stoves, appliances, measuring cups and spoons, and some ingredients already lined up on the counter space.

  “Welcome!” beamed a middle-aged woman from the front of the room. “Have you signed up in advance for this evening’s class?”

  “Yes,” Adam said. “Adam Wells.”

  The woman looked down through the glasses balanced precariously on the tip of her nose, scanning a clipboard. “Ah yes, here you are. Excellent! Help yourselves to any open station,” she said, gesturing grandly toward the room.

  There were five other couples already scattered at various stations, and they all smiled and nodded in greeting as Adam and Lauren made their way to the empty station on the far right of the room.

  “This was a great idea,” Lauren said as they settled in. “Thank you.”

  “A thank you before the date even begins? Does this mean I no longer have to fear a bathroom exodus?”

  Lauren smiled as she went up on her toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  And when she pulled back, the look in his normally playful eyes was now something else all together, and it turned the warmth in her belly into a full-blown inferno.

  “Okay ladies and gents,” the woman called from the front of the room, breaking the spell. “I think we have everyone for tonight, so let’s get started.” With a quick clap of her hands, she added, “If you’ll please head to the bin in the back of the room and grab yourselves an apron.”

  They walked to the back amid the other couples, each grabbing an apron out of a large container. Lauren slid hers over her head as she walked back toward their station, tying it behind her back as she went. She looked down as she smoothed her hands over the front of it, noticing the white letters scrawled over the red fabric: Kiss the Cook.

  “Can you give me a hand?” she heard Adam ask, and she looked over to see him with his back to her, his normally dexterous hands fumbling with the flimsy strings.

  “A chiropractor with inept hands?” she sighed, clucking her tongue and shaking her head. “I guess I should be thanking my lucky stars you transferred me to someone competent.” She pulled the strings out of his struggling fingers and began tying.

  Adam turned to look at her over his shoulder. “You think my hands are inept?” he asked, and Lauren shrugged, fighting a smile, her knuckles grazing the firm muscles of his back as she tied the apron.

  “That’s good,” he said with a nod, turning away from her again. “That might work in my favor.”

  “Oh? How is that?” she asked, finishing up the bow, and he turned toward her; the mischief in his eyes belied his innocent expression.

  “Because proving you wrong could be kind of fun.”

  Lauren’s stomach twirled with something she couldn’t quite place as she looked up at him, but before she could respond, her eyes dropped to his chest. She burst out laughing, cupping both her hands to her mouth in an attempt to muffle the sound.

  He pulled his brow together and looked down. “Ah, crap,” he said through a groan, shaking his head as his laughter combined with hers.

  On the front of his white apron was the outline of a cartoon woman’s body, her obscenely large breasts bursting out of a tiny bikini top and her thighs swelling out of an equally skimpy bottom. Adam looked up sheepishly as he held his hands over his cartoon breasts, attempting to hide them, which only made Lauren laugh harder.

  “Switch with me,” he said.

  “Not on your life,” Lauren said through her laughter. “Besides, it looks good on you. Who would have thought you were so voluptuous under those scrubs?”

  Adam lifted his eyebrows. “How long have you been thinking about what’s under my scrubs?” he challenged.

  “Okay, ladies and gentlemen, now that we are all properly attired, let’s begin!” the teacher said. “If you’ll have a look at the folder on the right side of your station…” Adam leaned around Lauren to grab the folder, bringing his chest flush with her back.

  “Saved by the bell,” he whispered in her ear, and she felt a faint shiver run down her spine that was as pleasant as it was unexpected.

  She should have known better by now; no matter how many times she thought she had him trumped, he always seemed to end up with the upper hand.

  And she liked it. A lot.

  Adam opened the folder and took out the papers inside, spreading them out on the counter and following along as the teacher went over the menu for the evening. Or rather, their assignment. Smoked salmon and crème fraiche bruschetta for an appetizer, filet mignon with a red wine mushroom sauce over sautéed spinach and baby carrots for the main course, and a cinna
mon peach crumble with vanilla ice cream for dessert.

  “Jesus,” he mumbled, his eyes scanning the paper in front of him.

  “A little out of your element?” Lauren asked, feeling a bit nervous herself as she scanned the recipe.

  “There’s a pizza place right down the road,” he said, putting the paper down and looking up at the teacher. “If this takes a turn for the worse, we hit it up on the way home.”

  “Deal,” Lauren laughed, turning to look at the teacher as she held up a knife and explained the proper way to dice a tomato.

  About an hour and a half later, they were seated in the adjacent room, which was set up to look like a makeshift restaurant, complete with linens and good silverware and candlelight. The couples all sat, waiting to be served the meals they had just prepared for themselves.

  “I’m telling you, you’ve found your calling,” Lauren said as Adam poured them each a glass of wine.

  “Don’t get smart,” he said, glancing up at her with a smirk as he placed the bottle back on the table.

  “I’m not! I thought you were great in there. Well, except for the whole carrot thing.”

  Adam laughed, shaking his head. He had started to chop them, not realizing the recipe called for them to be served whole, and each time he brought the knife down on the raw carrots, tiny pieces would shoot off the cutting board in different directions, like rogue missiles, hitting Lauren and at times the couple in front of them. Finally, the teacher came over and laid a placating hand on his wrist, telling him it was unnecessary for the recipe, and Lauren had to focus extremely hard on sautéing the spinach to keep from laughing.

  “Oh, and the onion thing,” Lauren added, smirking before she took a delicate sip of wine.

  “You know, a lesser man’s ego would be bruised by all these backhanded compliments.”

  “Good thing you’re not a lesser man, then.”

  Adam smiled, lifting his glass to hers, and she clinked it softly. “And besides,” he said, “you were the one who assigned me the onions to chop. You could have mentioned it’s a step below getting maced.”

  Lauren laughed. “Why do you think I passed the job to you?”

  Adam narrowed his eyes at her. “Cruel.”