“Liesel, wake up.”
“Let me go!” Her legs start kicking. She’s terrified.
I don’t know what to do.
I don’t know how to help her.
“Please,” her mood shifts again, and this time she’s begging.
I don’t know what to do.
I don’t know where my brain goes or why I think this is a good idea.
I roll her onto her back and hover an inch over her.
I kiss her.
The second our lips touch, her eyes open.
I should stop the kiss.
I should pull away.
I don’t.
And she doesn’t push me away.
So I savor the moment. This kiss won’t be repeated. This kiss tastes just like I always thought it would. Sure, I kissed her when we were kids, but that was before I knew how to actually kiss.
This kiss, I take everything I can.
I feel the soft warmth of her lips.
I plunge my tongue into her depths, finding hers and dancing with it, already knowing her next move. Her tongue is going to battle mine for control. I expect to feel frustrated that she doesn’t just resign to me.
Instead, I feel like she woke a hurricane of emotions inside me. I feel the sparks, the electricity, the waves crashing between us.
I would say I didn’t expect this—but that would be a lie. It’s one of the reasons I haven’t kissed her until now. Until I felt like I didn’t have a choice.
Liesel grabs the back of my head when I start to pull away.
There’s a pause, and then I attack her with my kisses. I can’t control myself. I can’t think. I want to drown in her kisses.
I shouldn’t. This is wrong for so many reasons.
I’m destroying everything I’ve worked for with one stupid kiss.
But damn, this kiss is worth it.
Suddenly, the intensity of it all becomes too much. Like two spark plugs forced together, the zap eventually pushes us apart as much as it pulled us together at first.
We both pant heavily.
“That was our first kiss?” she says like it’s a question.
“Yes, if you don’t count that kiss when we were eight.”
“I don’t.”
I nod in agreement. That was nothing like this kiss.
“You’ve never fucked me?” she asks. She’s just now figuring out the truth.
I shake my head.
“You’ve never fingered me?”
I shake my head.
“Never done anything sexual with me?”
I shake my head.
“Oh my god, then who did?”
“Mostly hallucinations in your nightmares.”
She holds onto her shirt, gripping for reality, for truth.
“Joel?” she asks, her voice terrified of my answer.
“No,” I lie. I failed to protect her before, but dammit, I’ll protect her now. She never has to know about Joel.
But the rest?
The rest of the truth, I’ll take to my grave.
31
Liesel
That kiss.
That kiss was terrifying, breathtaking.
It also brought me back to life.
It changed how I felt about Langston. Or maybe it brought me back to how I once felt?
I want to kiss him again.
And yet, if I kiss him again, I’ll ruin everything.
But did he ruin everything already?
Is he lying?
He said we never fucked, he never touched me, and that Joel didn’t touch me. Is it true? Or is it all a lie?
I trust him.
It doesn’t matter if it’s the truth or a lie. It’s what I need to hear.
I’m a sex addict. I use sex to deal with the pain of my past.
But god, that kiss—do I wish I could have more than one.
That’s what I think about as I drift back to sleep. It’s what I think about all night. That kiss is still playing on my lips in the morning when I wake up.
“Langston?” I ask to an empty room as the sun rises.
I get no answer.
The room is bright. Maybe I slept in too long, and that’s why he’s not here.
Or maybe I scared him off last night.
Maybe he’s changed his mind and wants to end my life sooner than planned.
I sit up, my body aching with pain. I need more painkillers or more scotch.
I reach for the scotch bottle next to the bed and see that it’s been replaced with a bottle of painkillers and a glass of water.
“Fine,” I say, resigning myself to meds instead of alcohol to deal today.
I pop two pills and drink the water.
Then I get out of bed. I consider showering or soaking in the tub, but I want to find Langston.
So I just head downstairs, feeling much happier and lighter than I should.
The house is quiet as I hit the bottom step.
I decide to grab a coffee before I continue my search. The pot is still on, and there is enough for one cup left. I pour myself a cup, happily humming a song in my head when my world stops.
I look out the big glass doors that are usually open to the outside by now, but I’m guessing that was Amelia’s job. No one else has gotten into a routine to open the house up yet.
It’s not the closed doors causing my heart to skip—it’s what I see just beyond them.
Langston kissing Phoenix.
Not a chicken peck either, a full-on slam me against the wall and take my breath away kind of kiss. The kind that you get swept up in and don’t notice the world around you. I know what kissing Langston like that feels like. I experienced it last night.
And now he’s kissing Phoenix.
They don’t notice me. How could they, locked in a lip battle like that?
I have two choices—go back to Langston’s room and pretend I didn’t see them, biding my time until I bring the subject up, or make it clear that I see them and I’m pissed.
I’m usually pretty good with self-control. Not today.
Coffee still in hand, I storm through the glass doors, making my presence as obvious as possible. They can’t hide what I saw.
They both stop at the sound of the door swinging open. Or maybe it’s my stomping and the fire shooting from my body that drew their attention my way, but they don’t separate. Phoenix still clings to Langston’s arm.
“So you’re not only a liar; you’re also a cheater,” I say, glaring at Langston. Phoenix, I can’t really be mad at. I thought she was my friend, but then I’ve only known her for a couple of days. I can’t be upset with her. Langston, on the other hand, I want to bury with the fires of hell.
I want to fight. I want to knee Langston in the groin. I want to run him off a cliff.
But I know that not doing any of those things is more powerful. He knows I’m pissed, and now he has to wait to see what my next move will be and when I’ll make it.
I walk past them and head to the beach, wishing I had something stronger than coffee in my hand. I plop down on the sandy beach with the sun beating down on me. My hot coffee isn’t going to do much to help with the sweltering sun. Soon, I’ll have to go back and get water, or at least find a shady spot to sit.
“I’m not a cheater,” Langston says from behind me.
I snap my head. “Oh, really? What would you call kissing me while you’re dating her? I’m pretty sure most people would classify that as cheating.”