There’s a noise coming from her phone, and I pick it up. “Hello?”
“Hello? Who is this? Put Maddie back on the phone,” a woman commands.
“Uh, this is Kyle. Hadley. Who is this?”
There’s a sigh. “This is Abigail Brevins. I’m Maddie’s doctor.”
“Doctor? Is she sick?”
“Kind of.” She sighs again. “I’m her therapist.”
“Oh.” What more can I say?
“Is Maddie alright? Can she talk?”
“She’s, uh, fainted. I think. Her eyes are closed.” I know I sound like a complete putz, but I need Abigail to tell me what to do because I’m losing it.
“Check her pulse.”
I do. It’s thumping steadily. “I feel it.”
“Good. She’s fine. Occasionally, her panic attacks can be severe, which is what’s happened. She’s fainted and may be out of it a while. If you want to take her to the hospital you can, but what she needs is to rest someplace safe. Can you do that?”
“Yes. Okay.”
“If I may be so bold…” she trails off, and I gather she’s waiting for me to agree.
“Say what you have to say.”
“You and Maddie have unfinished business. She doesn’t know your father died, does she?”
“I—no. I’m not sure, but how do you know?”
“Her aunt kept me abreast of you and your father and your story. Sadly, they wouldn’t let me tell her. They also kept her way too in the dark, feeling they should protect her when her world fell apart. Maddie is too accepting of their words. Perhaps you can help her work it out.”
“I—Really?”
I feel the shock on my face. What’s her point? So my father died. Does she think I’ll seem more sympathetic if Maddie knows?
“If you care at all for her, you’ll really talk to her. Got it?”
“Yeah, I guess,” I respond.
But I seriously have no damn idea what she means. Unless it has to do with our seven year separation. But that had nothing to do with me, and everything to do with Maddie. I tried many, many times to talk to her, and she never responded.
“Good-bye, Kyle Hadley.” I swear I hear her smile. “I think you’ll be good for her.”
“Thanks. Bye.” I hang up and tuck Maddie’s phone in my pocket. Then pick her up and spin in a circle.
“Need some help, man?” some guy asks. I notice a group of students have gathered and are talking quietly.
“Nah, I’m good.” I start walking to my Jeep. “I’m taking her home,” I say to no one in particular.
Maddie
he smell of buttered toast infiltrates my oblivion. I roll over, groggy. Rub my eyes. Clear my throat. It’s parched, like I haven’t had water in a very long time. My eyes blink open and reality sets in. I’m not in my room. This blanket covering me isn’t mine. This bed isn’t mine, and I lift the light blue comforter. My shirt is twisted around my waist.
“What the hell?” I sit up and search the room.
The bedroom is small. Only a bed, a desk, and a chest of drawers. There’s a bathroom to the left of a doorway, which is wide open. Something about the room is familiar. I realize with a frightened start that the room is Kyle’s. I was here a few nights ago, saw it briefly before he escorted me out.
Last I remember, I was talking to Abigail on the phone.
I’d been having a panic attack—a super attack is what Abigail and I call them. It’d been bad. Kyle must’ve taken care of me.
I throw my feet over the edge of the bed, then freeze. I’m not sure what to do next. Alert Kyle I’m awake? Say nothing? Hide my face and run from the room. Before I can make a decision, Kyle turns the corner carrying a plate and a glass of something. As soon as he sees me, his face lights up.
“You’re awake.” He’s in faded jeans and a white tee shirt. His hair is perfectly messy. His eyes are dancing with mischief. “Are you hungry?”
I am, in fact, starved. But I can’t tell him that. I seem to have lost the capacity to speak.
“There’s blueberries. I remember when we were kids you loved blueberries.” He sits beside me, flashing the contents of the plate, which consists of blueberries, cantaloupe, and toast. His features soften. “Feeling better?”
“I-uh, how long have I been here?” My words catch in my scratchy throat.
He hands me orange juice and I take a drink. It tastes so good I can’t help but drink it all while watching his face. When the glass is empty, he offers me the plate and I take it. Buttered toast is my favorite food on the planet. There’s something about the smell of toast and sweet cream butter combined. The taste when the crispiness of the bread and melted butter hit my tongue. But my stomach is sick, and fettered, and twisted up in so many knots I doubt I’ll ever be able to unravel them all.
“At least take a bite,” he pleads kindly, lifting a berry to my lips.
I open my mouth, and he plops it inside. The juice explodes between my teeth when I bite down. “Mmm.” I feel myself smile.
He picks up another, and we repeat the process until they’re gone.
“Toast?” he asks, picking it up, and touching the edge to my bottom lip.
I search his features, curious about why he’s playing nursemaid. Feeding me. I’m enjoying it though. I sink my teeth into the buttery warmth. It’s so good. I take the toast from him and have another bite. When I’ve finished chewing I ask, “How long?”
“A few hours. You missed English. The irritating Ms. Spears was none too happy. But I sent her an email, calming her down. Hope that wasn’t too forward of me.”
“No, I appreciate it, but how did you know my schedule?”
“I’m a TA. It was easy.” He shrugs.
“Gina!” I whisper-shout.
She’s probably a wreck.
He places a hand on my shoulder. When I flinch, he pulls away. “Don’t worry, I texted her with your phone. She knows where you are.”
I can’t help my sigh of relief.
Kyle chuckles lightly. “You two have developed a bond, I take it.”
“We’re friends. Yes.” I nibble another bite of toast. It’s delicious. The bread is multigrain. My favorite kind.
“So are you going to tell me what happened? Your therapist, Abigail, explained that you and I have some stuff we need to discuss.”
“My therapist?” I can’t believe Abigail told him. I’m sure that’s breaking the rules. “What else did she tell you?”
“Nothing, well except that you were having a panic attack.”
“A super attack,” I blurt. Then glance down at my hands, uncomfortable. “That’s what I call them.” I shake my head. “I’m sorry if I scared you.”
He sets the plate on the bedside table and then takes my hand. “Why didn’t you return any of my calls after your parents died? My letters. Did I do something?” Pain, a look I can recognize anywhere, shoots across his face. “I felt so bad when I heard your parents were killed. I wanted to be there for you, but you were suddenly gone.” His intense eyes find mine. “Tell me what I did that was so awful.”
He’s leaning into me, his lips inches from mine. His breath smells of orange juice.
I’m floored. He must not know. His dad didn’t tell him about my accusations at the police station. My heart breaks as I think about what he must’ve gone through, how much I must’ve hurt him.
Kyle grabs me by the arms, his large hands completely circling my nonexistent biceps. “Please, Maddie. Tell me.” He shakes me slightly.
His eyes search my face, and I can see he’s desperate for answers. But I’m not sure how to begin, what to tell him. How can I explain all of the heartache I’m suffering because of what his father did?
And while I’m debating the words I need to say, his lips are suddenly on mine. Gentle. Tender. My eyes get big and I freeze. He’s watching me, a question in his eyes. At a moment’s notice he’ll stop. I sense it. But my body finally comprehends what’s happening, what I’ve cra
ved for more than seven years. And my lips respond.
Tentative. Inexperienced.
My first kiss.
“Freckles,” Kyle says pausing our kiss long enough to speak.
I’m like a ravenous kitten. And his lips are everything I need. I press mine against his, moving them the way I’ve seen in the movies.
“Maddie.” He pulls back slightly.
I open my eyes, surprised because I hadn’t realized they’d been closed. Kyle has an amused look on his face. My lust haze clears slightly. I lean back. “Oh,” I say ashamed. “I’m sorry.”
The truth is I’m not sorry, but I am humiliated. He’s experienced. Gina says he likes kinky, whatever that means. And I have no idea what I’m doing.
By the look on his face, it’s obvious I’ve done something wrong. His beautiful lips turn up in a smile. He clears his throat. “But I’m shocked. I really am your first kiss?”
I grab the blanket and pull it over my head. I can’t look at him. He’s laughing and I can’t witness it. Plus, he doesn’t need to see my mortification.
He pulls the covers off my head. “Hey,” he says, moving my hair from my face.
My eyes are closed. I feel him shift so he’s leaning over my body. He presses a tender kiss to my cheek. My earlobe. His warm breath exhales against my ear. And I’m no longer ashamed, but tingling everywhere. He kisses my neck, and my breath comes out like a whimper. I cover my mouth. He pulls my hand away, kissing my fingers.
“So it’s true. You kept your promise.”
I hear wonder in his voice and open my eyes. He’s looking at me, but I can’t read his expression. Is it pride? Awe? Exasperation?
I’m beside myself with shock that he even remembers the pact we made.
“Am I right?” He moves my body so I’m flat on my back, my bare legs dangling off the side of the bed. He lies on top of me. Everything, every muscle, every cell, every sinew tightens.
I gasp. “Yes,” I admit, watching his face.
He grips my hands, lacing my fingers with his. “Put your hands on my shoulders. Touch me.”
I can’t help the heat warming my cheeks. But I do what he says. He’s warm, so warm. Solid and supple at the same time.
“Relax your lips.”
I’m not sure what he means until he touches a finger to my bottom lip and massages it. I automatically loosen the muscles, and am surprised how tightly I had them scrunched together.
“Better.” Kyle winks. The mischievousness is back. He presses his body into mine and I feel his softness and hardness all over. “Wrap your legs around my hips, and lock your feet together.”
I’m like putty against him. The sensation of my body pushed against his, my legs clinging to his hips, it’s like nothing I’ve ever imagined.
Warmth swells and spreads along my lower belly, along my thighs. Kyle’s face changes. No longer playful, but serious. Hungry. For me. My heart is pounding in my chest. It’s so loud, so, so loud, I think it might shatter my eardrums.
“I know you prefer being the leader, and I promise you’ll get your chance, but this time it’s my turn. Okay?”
I nod, my tongue licking my bottom lip. Every nerve ending is bursting with longing, need. For what, I don’t know, but I want to find out.
Kyle groans, and pushes me deeper into the bed. Then his lips are on mine.
I immediately feel the difference. Soft against soft. He pulls back. “Delicious.” He smiles. His tongue licks my bottom lip. He suckles it. An electric current shoots through my belly, and I moan.
Kyle’s hands force my t-shirt up. He looks at my body. My chest. It’s heaving.
“I want you to tell me about those tattoos.” His eyelids are heavy.
“Right now?” I ask. At this moment he could ask me for the moon, and I’d gladly find a way to get it for him.
“Later.” His hands skim along my sides.
All that is between us are his jeans and my underwear. He rocks against me again. Hot longing burns between my legs. My fingers dig into his back.
“Maddie. I’ve missed you,” he whispers.
His lips are still pliable, but urgent. His tongue flicks inside my mouth, and I let out another moan. I never would’ve guessed this type of intimacy could feel so incredible. My tongue finds his. I shyly swirl mine around his. He delves deeper into my mouth, and once again I’m the starving kitten. I need him. Closer. Closer.
Kyle shifts under me and I feel his hardness pressing through his jeans, through my underwear.
I want it. Him. All of him. In every way. But at the same time, an overwhelming fear crushes my heart. I break the incredible kiss. Turn my face from his. My eyes squeeze shut and my hands fall to the bed, grasping the sheets into fists.
He stops moving, places his hands on either side of my face. “Maddie, look at me.”
I can’t. He’s into kinky, and he’s had lots of sex. I’m probably letting him down. This boy who’s not a boy anymore, but a man, a beautiful man. The man I’ve always wanted. If I open my eyes and see rejection, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stand it. But I can’t change the fact that I’m not ready. I wish I were. My body certainly wants to be.
“Maddie. Please open your eyes.”
I do, but focus on his collarbones, the perfect muscles on his chest. He tilts my face. “I’m sorry,” he says.
I’m shocked, surprised. I find his eyes. There’s pain stamped along the creases of his forehead, between his nose, at the edges of his lashes.
“Why are you sorry?” I ask quietly.
He gets up, and I miss the proximity of his body. “Because,” he runs both hands through his thick hair, “I don’t want to be your first kiss and first time all in the same day.” He covers me with the comforter and kneels next to me. “First kiss and first serious make out is enough.” He shakes his head.
I grab his shoulders and pull him close. My eyes search his. My body hums contentedly. I press my lips against his neck and cling to him like he’s my life raft in a sea of rugged, unknown waters. “I saved all my firsts for you.”
He doesn’t say anything.
Neither of us does for a long time. We hold each other.
Then he asks, “Will you have dinner with me tonight?”
I can’t help the smile that breaks across my face. I didn’t let him down. And we are going to be more than duet partners. He wants to take me out.
“Like a date?” I ask for verification.
He grabs one of my hands and presses his lips to my fingers. “Will you, Maddie Martin, go on a real, no strings, just talking date? With me?” His expression is serious, worried even. I think he’s afraid I might say no.
I laugh. A real, genuine laugh. Like I haven’t laughed in seven years. “Yes, I would like that very much.”
He stands—more, bounces. And I wonder if all the talk about him being into kinky sex is a lie. A rumor. “I need a shower,” he says, and walks into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
Maddie
’m giddy. Like a schoolgirl, giddy. I can’t hold still. Gina is working on my hair. She’s burned her finger on the iron twice. After the third time, she bonks me on the head with it.
“I swear I’m going to shove this up your nose if you don’t freakin’ hold still.” She sticks the curling iron in my face and scowls.
“Ouch. Fine. No need for violence.”
“You haven’t seen me violent.” She’s glaring, but the fact that her lips are twitching with near-laughter negates all the pretend anger in her eyes.
“Okay. Okay.” I pull my fingers from the ties in the waist of my sweatpants and hold them up in surrender.
“Good.” She grabs another chunk of hair and twirls it in the iron. “What are you going to wear?”
I shrug. “Jeans, my purple tee, and black ballet flats.”
She yanks on my hair. “Boring. Awful. And grotesque.”
I want to be offended, but I can’t. I’m too excited. And nervous. And terrified. A
nd thrilled. And shocked. And full of trepidation. My internal thoughts are quick, like my mind is playing at fast-forward.
Will he kiss me again? I hope so.
No, he can’t. I shouldn’t be going. Kyle is the son of the man who killed my parents.
He doesn’t know. He isn’t like his father. He’s kind, and good, and tender, and his lips are extraordinary.
“I’ve got the perfect outfit in mind. Trust your roomie,” Gina says, interrupting my thoughts.
I glance at her. “Not too wild though.”
“Psssshhhh. Don’t question me. I know what I’m doing.” Gina picks up her comb and tousles my curls. Sets it down and picks up her purse. “I’m going to run to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.” At the door, she stops. “Don’t mess with your hair.”
“I won’t.”
I pick up my Sudoku, but can’t focus. Every time I try, all I see is Kyle’s face and I feel the way his body pressed into mine. My thighs tingle at the thought. The butterflies low in my belly stop fluttering and sway languidly, dancing to some Nina Simone song and smoking a cigarette.
Gina comes back in with animated energy. Sniffling, she sets her purse on her bed. “Alright, let’s get you an outfit.” She goes to her closet. “Do you want your outfit to say, ‘I’m sweet and innocent?’ “ She pulls a white sundress from her closet.
I shake my head.
“This is disgusting. I don’t even know where it came from.” She tosses it on the floor. “What about, ‘wine me, dine me, boink me?’ “ She pulls out a black halter dress. It Vs down to the waist and would barely cover my ass.
“How about something in between? Something that says, ‘I like you, but I’m not ready to do it. Yet.’ “ I move to stand beside her. “Got anything in your closet that says that?”
She huffs. “Probably.” She practically dives in. Clothes are flying everywhere. Skirts. Shirts. Leggings. Dresses.
“Gina. Seriously. I can wear my jeans. You don’t need to go to all this trouble. It’s dinner.”
I fall onto her bed, knocking her purse to the floor. The contents spill out. A tampon. Some folded cash. Change. Her student ID. Lip-gloss. And a small baggie more than half-filled with white powder. I pick it up as Gina is turning around, a victorious look on her face. Until she sees what I’m holding.
Because of You Page 10
