by Meg Maguire
“Ready?” he asked.
She nodded and swallowed and seemed all at once diminished. Her shyness continued as they strolled to the car and drove back to Kaiwharawhara. Equally disconcerting, Colin too fell silent. Reece tried to pinpoint exactly what flavor of conspiracy was brewing between them, but all he could smell was peppermint.
The threesome reentered the pub at ten fifteen.
“Heya, kids,” Annie said.
Libby offered a limp wave, feeling uncharacteristically timid.
“Don’t you have a man and a baby waiting at home for you?” Colin lifted the hinged entrance to the bar and ushered his sister out. “Go home, you old wench. I’ll save you my tips.”
“I’m not going to argue with you.” Annie handed over the register key and her bar towel. “And you definitely rake in the best tips. Thanks, Col. Mark thanks you too,” she added as she slipped her coat on. “Your niece never lets him sleep. Night, guys.” She waved to Libby and Reece.
Colin settled in behind the bar and dug out a newspaper. “You two be good, now.”
Libby said good night, thinking she knew what Colin was trying to help facilitate. He was an exemplary wingman.
Reece yawned as they mounted the stairs and entered the flat. “I might call it a night.” He closed the door behind them and kicked off his shoes.
“Oh, not yet! I’m all charged up now. And we’ve made real progress tonight.”
He glanced at her. “At what?”
“You know…being nice to each other. Having fun. Let’s keep the momentum up. Let’s play a game. You’re competitive, right? I’d love to see you beat me at Trivial Pursuit.”
“With your credentials, I’d love to see that too. I might stand a chance on the questions about seventies’ cricket.”
“Oh, come on, lover. Indulge me. It’s early. Crack open a beer.”
Reece looked around the room and at the clock. “Yeah, okay. ’Til twelve thirty, then I have to head to bed. I’ve got morning classes.”
“Gorgeous. I’ll get some music going.”
“Can we have the news instead?” He wandered into the kitchen.
“No, no, no.” She thought quickly. “That’s almost like cheating. What if an answer came up on the broadcast?”
Reece returned carrying a can of Speight’s. “This game was put out shortly after you were born.”
“Well, it’ll be distracting. Come on. You dragged me away from laser tag way too early. Let me have my way.” With you, she amended in her head.
“All right then.” He sighed and obediently took a seat on the floor as she unfolded the board. He popped his can open. “I want the yellow pie.”
“Fine.” She took the red one for herself.
Reece was right, ultimately—Libby kicked his ass at the game, with the exception of the questions about antipodean sports and entertainment. It was fun—for both of them, she suspected—though her own enjoyment was dampened more each minute by mounting nerves. It took Reece an exceedingly long time to notice what sorts of tapes she’d been playing on her stereo.
Halfway into the game, he looked up, suddenly savvy and suspicious, glancing around like a spooked deer. “What’s up with the make-out music?”
Libby swallowed. She set the dice down and looked at Reece. “I want you to kiss me.”
He stared blankly at her, toying with his pie. “I’m not interested in you, Libby. Not that way.”
“I know. That’s why you’re perfect for it.”
“For what?”
She hissed out a long, loaded breath. “Teach me how to kiss.”
Reece balked, abandoned by his self-possession. “Beg pardon? Teach you?”
“Yeah.”
He smiled nervously, shaking his head. “Libby, you’re the most sexual person I’ve ever met. I’m sure I’ve got nothing to add to your undoubtedly impressive repertoire.”
“I haven’t kissed anyone in twelve years.”
He shut his eyes, absorbing this proclamation. “What?”
“I haven’t kissed anybody in like twelve years. Since I was sixteen.”
His eyes opened again. “You’re winding me up.”
“I’m not.”
He seemed to replay a tape in his head, looking for an instance that might make her a liar. He wouldn’t find one.
“I haven’t done anything since I was sixteen.”
“But you flirt with nearly any bloke who’s got a pulse.”
“Yeah, but I don’t do anything with anyone.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m so bloody confused.”
Libby had prepared a brief synopsis for this eventuality. “Something bad happened when I was younger. I thought I loved somebody, and I did something I didn’t really want to because I thought it would make him love me back.” She twirled her hand dismissively in the air. “And it didn’t. He ditched me and I went totally nuts. I tried to kill myself and my father threw me in an institution to keep me from bringing embarrassment on our family’s good name.” She rattled the facts off, as though summarizing a very boring story.
Reece’s eyes were round and horrified. “Bloody hell, that’s awful.”
She couldn’t let this turn into a consolation festival when she had far more pressing matters to address. “Yeah, well, it was what it was. But I haven’t so much as kissed anybody on the mouth since then. And now I need to catch up.” She cracked her knuckles, businesslike, hoping Reece couldn’t sense the truth of her actual excitement. True, she did want to kiss him because he was such a non-threat, but he didn’t need to know how badly she truly wanted him, and how long it’d been since she’d felt this way about a guy. It’d only freak him out. Hell, it’d freak her out to admit it, to let him know how much sway he had over her.
Reece looked around the room again with dawning comprehension. “Have you been planning this?”
“A bit. Aren’t you flattered?”
“I don’t know. Should I be?”
“Uh, yeah. You’re the only man I’ve been willing to let touch me in over a decade. Jackpot, lover.”
Reece frowned, so adorable. “Christ, don’t call me that. This is so twisted. Why me?”
“Like you said, you aren’t interested in me. You’re safe. And you’re sexy. You’re single. Teach me how to kiss. I’m way behind my peers.”
He shook his head. “No blooming way.”
“Why not?”
“Because… Just because.”
“Please?”
“I mean, we aren’t like that. It’d be all clinical and weird.”
“I know, and that’s perfect. No one’s invested. It’s safe.” She paused, abandoning her bargaining platform and looking him square in the face. “Please? It’s really important to me.”
He seemed contemplate her request. Colin had been right—sincerity was the only reliable crowbar she’d yet found for prying Reece open. His clear gray eyes were trained on the ceiling, brows knitted, but he looked calm again.
He sighed. “I’m not sure what it is I’m meant to be teaching you.”
“Just…how to kiss. I don’t even remember what it’s like, it’s been so long. And I never even got good at it before things turned all fucked.”
“Well, it’s not that simple. Every bloke is different. It’s not a universal skill—”
“Jesus, Reece, you make everything so frigging complicated. Then just teach me how to kiss you.”
His eyes lowered to drill into hers. “Fine.”
She clapped. “Oh goodie.”
“But turn the Al Green off.”
“What should we listen to instead?”
“You’ve really never done anything, have you?” Reece asked, clearly floored. “This is all out of a movie for you?”
“Kind of.”
“Holy hell.”
“I’ve never seen you so flustered, loverboy. So what do you want to listen to?”
“Nothing. Each other. That’s what you listen to. Or that’s
what I’d listen to in this…situation.”
“Well, you are in this situation, so…” She crawled to the tape deck and clicked it off. Taking the noise away was like shedding a layer of clothing, closing the distance between them. The light tapping of rain at the windows mimicked Libby’s fluttery heartbeat.
“Okay, then.” She slid the game board off to one side. Reece’s legs were sprawled in a vee and Libby scooted close in front of him, crossing her thighs over his and looking to him expectantly, their faces only a foot apart.
“This is really what you want?” he asked.
“Definitely.”
“Is this… Are we snogging? How far do you want to go?” If he was intimidated, he didn’t show it—all his earlier hesitation was gone. Good, old steady Reece. He really had no clue how sexy he was. Thank goodness.
“Yeah, let’s make out. But don’t jam your tongue down my throat.”
“I’m thirty-one, Libby.”
“Yeah, well, the last guy I kissed was seventeen. I’m working with what I know, here.”
“Fine. Just give me a little credit.”
“Well, you’ll have to earn it, now won’t you?” She’d slipped into her seduction voice almost without meaning to.
“Don’t try that on me. You’re so creepy.”
“Sorry. So, lay it on me, Professor. Tell me what to do.” She couldn’t keep her eyes from flicking back to his mouth every other word.
“Just…just do what you want to. I’ll kiss you, and if you like what I’m doing, you can do it back or whatever.” His gaze darted over her face. He reached out to rub a thumb below her eye, at whatever was left of her war paint. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed the last of his uncertainty. “It’s hard to explain. Just try stuff. I can’t tell you what to enjoy… Kissing’s always dodgy the first time with a new person. If you don’t like something, tell me.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
“Go!” Libby said.
Reece’s face took on a steely look of determination, as though she were a particularly wily opponent. He reached out both his cool hands and touched her face, resting his fingers behind her ears, his thumbs on her jaw. Libby’s skin heated at the contact.
He leaned in and put his lips against hers, catching her lower one between his ever so lightly, then pulled away an inch. An unfamiliar sensation spread through her like alcohol, tingling and trickling from the crown of her head down through her chest, right into her fingertips and toes. It’d taken years to find a guy whose sexuality didn’t frighten her, one she truly wanted to be close to and who made her conjure all those stupid verbs people employed when talking about attraction—crave, want, need. And the sheer relief of getting close to a man and not wanting to bolt…that felt as good and comforting and miraculous as Reece’s skin against hers.
Their eyes flickered together before his lips returned at an angle, parted, and he pressed his mouth to hers. She pressed back. Her hands were clasped in her lap and she untwined her fingers and moved them to his shoulders. His sweater was soft and inviting but she craved his skin. She slid one hand up to touch his neck as his mouth opened further. He slipped his tongue very shallowly between her lips before pulling back again.
Her heart hammered, brain fuzzy.
“Is this okay?” he asked.
“Yes, this is good. Keep going. I’m learning loads.”
When Reece’s mouth returned, he intensified the touch. Libby parted her lips to invite his tongue again. He tasted clean and faintly of his beer. Just the way a man ought to taste, she decided. She tilted her head for more. The way his tongue slid against hers was sexy—not weird or gross as she’d feared. Hot. Wet, but not messy. She scooted closer, the backs of her thighs resting on the tops of his as she began, cautiously, to kiss back.
She experimented with her lips, capturing his with them, his top one, then the bottom, lightly, then more rough, drawing it gently between her teeth. She felt him swallow.
“Am I doing all right?”
“Yeah, you’re doing great.” Reece looked down his nose to her lips, eyes crossing. “Are you…is it feeling good to you?” He was different, softer.
“It’s awesome,” Libby whispered. And it was far more than that—an unprecedented relief, to discover she could in fact feel this way, be this way, with someone.
She brought her lips back to his, eager to explore. Her tongue went in search of his, and she hoped she was hitting that balance between not too sloppy and not too dry. Soon however, she stopped thinking at all, and lo and behold, they were just kissing—trading whose tongue was leading, alternating between tasting and probing and crossing their lips over one another’s.
Libby’s body hummed. She cupped the nape of Reece’s neck, palm brushing the soft bristle of his hair.
They kissed for a blissful eternity, until a quarter past one when the sound of Colin mounting the steps cut Libby’s fun short. Reece pulled away as though he’d been given an electric zap. Libby hastily slid the board game back between them and tried to smooth her hair.
Colin entered, studying each of their far-too-cheerful grins. “You two posing for the game box or something?”
Reece looked to the clock. “Shit, it’s after one?”
“Time flies when you’re having fun,” Colin said.
Reece stood and took his can to the kitchen. Libby hugged her knees and pursed her tender lips, glancing at Colin.
“Who’s winning?” he asked.
“I am,” she said.
He smiled tightly. “I’ll bet you are.”
Chapter Seven
Bloody SUVs. Since when had New Zealanders gone mad and decided these ridiculous behemoths should be allowed?
Colin slipped between two such offenders and back to the left lane of the busy city street. A foul mood had dogged him all week, since that night after laser tag. Since he’d locked the pub for the evening and gone upstairs to find Reece and Libby looking flushed and guilty, game pieces scattered all over the board. Exactly what Colin knew Libby wanted, and what he’d been trying to help orchestrate. So why did it feel so unmistakably like a kick in balls when they’d succeeded?
Ahead two blocks, as though summoned, Colin spotted the head of unruly platinum hair that seemed doomed to make his breath catch each time it came into view.
Arms folded over her chest, Libby was in the midst of being chatted up on the sidewalk by a man she looked supremely uninterested in. Colin smiled and changed course. One knight in tarnished armor, coming right up.
Libby saw him, eyes locking meaningfully into his. He hopped his bike onto the curb beside them, scaring the daylights out of the man. Kid, really. Probably only a year or two out of university.
Colin flipped his bike around, fixing first Libby and then the kid with a savvy eye, making it plain he was at her disposal. “Good day, Libs?”
“Colin! Tiger, I thought we were meeting at the restaurant.” Libby shot a Stepford Wife smile at each of them. “Rich, this is my boyfriend, Colin.” She laid a possessive hand on Colin’s thigh, sending a bolt of unwholesome energy up his body.
Colin smiled grimly. “Nice to meet you, Rich.” He squeezed the proffered hand in the sort of bone-breaking shake only a man who spent six hours a day gripping bike handlebars could boast.
“Well, I’ll see you around, Libby,” the kid said, clearly irritated by this turn of events. He gave Colin a cold wave and walked off toward the city center.
“We really have to stop meeting like this.” Colin batted his eyelashes at Libby.
She withdrew her hand from his thigh and poked it a couple times. “Damn, you’ve got some gams on you.”
“Hazard of the job.”
“Good timing back there, Tiger. He was getting kind of pushy.”
“I aim to please.” Lousy mood or not, Colin couldn’t seem to contain his happiness when Libby was within a hundred yards of him. He gave her a sideways glance, hoping to communicate his disapproval at her getting her
self into such a situation yet again, but it dissolved into a smile. Reece was far better at that sort of thing. “I recognize him from karaoke the other week. You must get a lot of admirers.”
“I think we sang ‘Islands in the Stream’ once, and now he thinks we’ve got something going on.”
“Well, it’s a powerful track.”
“Thanks. For that.” Libby tugged her thumb in the direction of the retreating man. “And that.” She smiled lewdly and squeezed his leg again. “Like a Christmas ham.”
“Save those sweet nothings for my brother. You’ll need them.”
“I’ll give them a dry run at karaoke tonight, if you two are joining me.”
“We are,” Colin said. “Although Reece doesn’t know it yet.”
“Excellent.”
“Actually,” Colin said, “I promised I’d meet him at the studio at half-six, if you want to see where your stalker works when he’s not busy slinging drinks or documenting you at your bible study group, or whatever it is your old man’s meant to fall for.”
“Oh, definitely.”
Colin fished a pad and pen out of his bag and jotted down an address. “It’s locked after six but if you meet me outside, we can go up together. I know the code.” He ripped the page off and Libby pocketed it.
“It’s a date.”
As promised, Colin was waiting when Libby arrived at the appointed corner at six thirty that evening. He waved as she approached and propped the crossbar of his bike on his shoulder. He punched the keypad beside the door to a tall building that looked to be a former warehouse.
An endless staircase rose through the center of the building, the mere sight making Libby’s legs ache. She followed Colin up four brutal flights, past landings bearing signs for printing services and wholesale paper goods and vacancies. The stairs ended at the entrance to the tae kwon do studio, its double doors propped open. Libby fought for breath as they entered. Scrolls painted with Korean characters hung on the wall behind the front desk and from beyond the reception area came a curious mixture of sounds—loud slapping noises and blood-chilling shrieks.
