#Kissing (Rock and Romance #1) (19 page)

Chapter 54

After I freshened up in the bathroom, JQ and I chat and reorient ourselves to our common ground and the unexplored topography of a new version of friendship. The knot in my heart feels looser, like we've unraveled it a bit.

He's lying on my bed and gazing at the ceiling, I'm reclined next to him because my head pounds, but not as loudly as my heart.

It's as though we're meeting each other for the first time all over again; he's changed so much and yet we know each other intimately. We gradually move closer on the bed, lying on our sides, all the while catching up, filling in the spaces since we last spoke at any length. I notice he makes me giggle rather than laugh. It's light and bubbly, not weighted with contempt or dispensed with a sneer.

Interrupting his recount of a student senate meeting when one of our classmates got into an argument with a teacher, he suddenly asks, "Are you glad you left?" He leans on his elbow and supports his head with his hand.

Our eyes meet as I search for the answer. Finally, I say, "Yes."

He settles a little as though he's masking a broken-hearted sigh.

Then I add, "Because if I didn't, I don't think this moment would be happening. Not like this, anyway."

"This moment?" he asks.

I nod.

He bites his lip. "What would happen if we held hands?" he asks as though we're thirteen.

I answer by threading my fingers through his.

"How about if we moved closer?"

I shift so we're nearly nose-to-nose.

"And what would happen if we kissed?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

"Let's find out," I say.

So we do.

Our mouths meeting erases every kiss that came before it except for our first one. My lips blaze as they melt into his, burning away the past. His breath comes as fast as mine. Our tongues move gently at first and then our kisses build in intesiity until he rolls me onto my back. I press into his chest, palms flat and then clawing, desperate to be closer. His weight on top of me, grounds me, and relieves me of my own sense of gravity. If kisses are like stars or planets colliding, we're as bright and as fast as an asteroid.

I can't get enough as our lips connect and pull away, linger, and nibble. I lose myself in his peppermint masculinity. His hands knot in my hair as he pulls my head closer.

"Tell me you won't kiss anyone else," he says, breathless as he pecks behind my ear. "I hated seeing the pictures of you and that asshole in the band and you and all those guys online."

"I won't. As long as you don't," I say.

"Of course not."

"Not even Lizzy?"

He pulls away. "Lizzy?" He shakes his head and leans back, tucking an arm under his head. He exhales. "That? She tricked me. I mean, yes I kissed her back, but she invited me to meet up with her at a Halos concert. I stupidly, secretly hoped I'd see you there. But she ended up showing me all that stuff that was online. I hadn't seen it—not the #Kissing stuff, before that with Niko. It busted me up. I got drunk. She made a move. I didn't stop it."

"Her attempt at revenge was shitty; I didn't even know she liked Casper, but really, it's no big deal."

"That sucked too." He levels me with his gaze. "In addition to not wanting you to kiss anyone else, please be completely honest with me."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want anything unsaid between us; it messes things up. I kept my feelings about you quiet for so long, too long, because by the time it came out, I'd already lost you."

"No, I lost me."

"Then find you. I can wait a little longer, but I can't bear seeing you—."

"Seeing you kiss Lizzy sucked. It was on the tail end of catching Niko cheating on me and I imploded. I started the whole #Kissing thing to convince myself that who I kiss doesn't matter; who anyone kisses doesn't matter. Hashtag a kiss is just as kiss."

He runs his thumb under my lip. "Hashtag but it isn't."

"No, it isn't. Not at all. When I was kissing Niko and those strangers, I was thinking about you, imagining it was you." I gaze into those blue eyes at last, and plant a kiss on his lips.

He matches my kiss, but before I give myself over, I repeat, "I'm sorry."

Then our arms and legs tangle as we explore familiar, yet new terrain: his hand on the soft curve of my hip, my fingers on the back of his neck, his thighs against mine, our bellies pressing together, and our lips, forming a perfect match. It's still fresh and uncharted; like newly discovered galaxies.

After a time I say, "Let's play twenty questions."

"I don't want to play games with you. I want this," he waggles his finger between us, "to be straightforward."

"I want you to be able to ask me anything you want. To be honest and get everything on the table."

"Ok. Fair enough." He scratches his temple.

"Do you accept my apology."

"Yes. My turn." He smirks. "When we went skinny dipping back during junior year, did you peek?"

I giggle. "Yes. Did you?"

"I've peeked every time."

I playfully whack him. It's like all of the
us
-ness rushes back at me. While I was so preoccupied, practically obsessed with how my mother's program for my life didn't fit, we actually had a pretty good thing going on, maybe we still do, and it feels a lot like freedom.

"My turn." I say. "When did you know?"

"Know that I liked you? Like,
liked
you?"

I nod.

"Part of me always knew, but I remember this one day in January in Mr. Wilkins' class. You raised your hand to answer a question about comets and the cool winter light filtering in made your hair, your eyes, your everything glow. You were angelic. It made me warm and light and ok, I'll stop..." He nibbles his lip.

"No, don't stop," I say, not because he's talking about me, but because he's talking to me and it's more than I could have ever expected.

"I was in love."

"I'm not an angel, JQ."

"I know." His voice is small. "But the feeling won't leave no matter how much I study or drink or kiss other girls or try to forget."

"Me neither. I just don't want you to put me on a pedestal."

He laughs. "Josephine, you are far from being on a pedestal. Trust me. It got so difficult. You're so difficult, but sometimes the challenges in life are what make it worthwhile."

"That was a long answer."

"Big things, good things take a while to explain or understand," he says.

"I have another question."

"Let me have it," he says.

"What's your biggest fantasy?" I'm exceptionally close to mine.

He bites back a big grin. "I hope to make it reality sometime soon."

There's no cautious or questioning eye contact, no hesitation; we dive into each other. He's firm and direct, and there's no doubt that he wants me even after everything that's happened. His lips drift past mine as he tugs up my shirt, kissing down the length of my stomach before kneeling before me. He tears off his shirt then scooches my hips closer to him and unbuttons my pants.

My breath catches as I grip his strong shoulders and press against his firm chest. Where I remember a fit teenager, he's now a muscular man. But before he goes farther, he lunges forward, planting his lips on mine, our kisses spinning me into another orbit all together.

"I want you." His voice is a strained whisper in my ear.

"I want you." I echo.

Our mouths meet again and desire pulses between us. The heat radiating from our skin tells me we're both close to having a fantasy fulfilled.

Just then, cool air pebbles goosebumps across my bare legs.

"Josephine, I told you to get out." My mother stands in the doorway, her arms across her chest. She blinks a few times as though not surprised to find me with someone, but not quite believing who that someone is. "Jesse? Jesse Quaid?" Her voice pitches with her southern accent.

He rocks back to sitting and his hand finds mine. "Sorry, Mrs. McCord. No disrespect meant. We'll be leaving."

"You certainly will. Young lady, this is a disgrace. You should be ashamed. First, ruining your high school and then college careers, then the drunken antics with that lousy boy and his band. Oh, and it turns out you've been kissing strangers on film. Are you a woman of ill-repute?" She huffs. "No, I'd hardly say you're a woman. You're just a girl. A foolish, lost little girl."

I have little to say to this. She isn't entirely wrong.

"Mrs. McCord, if you'd be so kind as to not insult Josephine. I understand she's had a rough time and has made some poor decisions, but I don't think that's what she needs to hear right now." He scrounges around the bedding for his shirt and slides it over his buff chest. This isn't the time to be distracted, but I am.

"She needs to hear that she's shamed me and is an embarrassment. How am I supposed to go to work on Monday and explain all of this?"

I get to my feet. "The same way you always have, mother. We pick ourselves up, dust off, and keep going," I say, throwing her quote back at her and lifting my chin. "And you know what, that's what I'm going to do too. I'm genuinely sorry if I've disappointed you. That was not my intention. Ok, maybe it was some of the time, at least pissed off is an emotion in your bleak unemotional world, but I'm my own person. If you did anything right raising me, you'll know that I'll learn and grow from my mistakes and make a better life for myself."

Her eyes blink, bird like, as though she doesn't comprehend what I'm saying. She scoffs and turns away, rubbing her temples. "Well, nice for you to realize all that, but I still want you out."

I'll deal with the cinching, crushing feeling that presses against my bones later. "Fine."

"Pack up and don't expect any handouts from your father or me. You'll have to figure this out yourself."

I could scream or throw something or both. Instead, I say, "I accept the challenge."

She storms off and as soon as her heels click down the hall, I deflate onto my bed.

JQ stacks his hands on top of head and exhales.

"That sucked." I fight the urge to tell him that this is getting too difficult and run like I did before. But when he meets my eyes and his defense of me to my mother replays in my ears, I see a man that'll stick by me, who, despite everything, sees something in me I hardly glimpse. And he always has.

I get to my feet, taking each of his hands in mine. I stretch onto my toes and kiss him lightly. "It's time for me to grow up, but don't worry, I won't be tamed or lose my fire. I've always feared I'll become like her, and the only way I can make sure that doesn't happen is by not being afraid. So I'll become a better, freer, and more fearless version of myself."

"Can I be a part of that?"

"Are you brave?" I ask with a wink.

He kisses me in answer.

I pack a few bags and not having any idea where I'm going, soon find myself on the other side of the front door. The net is gone, there's no turning back; I feel more free than I ever have and uncertain too. She even took the car keys. But there's fizzy rush, bubbling inside me because I'm on the edge of a beginning instead of an end.

As we walk down the snowy front path, a black Cadillac Escalade stops in front of the house. Music throbs from the interior when the door whooshes open. A black boot, black jeans, and a long figure emerge.

"Babe," Niko calls.

Part Three

Then Comes Marriage

Chapter 55

The laughter peeling from my mouth doesn't match the disorienting heaviness that lands with a thud in my stomach when I see Niko at the end of my driveway. I can't bear to look at JQ.

"Babe?" I call to Niko, not in response, but in question. "Babe? You don't get to call me that. I thought I made it clear." My breath is as icy as my tone.

He strides toward me, his face a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle. "I just want to talk."

"I'm well aware of the things you can do with your lips and talking isn't one of them."

"We talked all the time. You liked my voice if I recall. You thought it was sexy." I sense he throws this comment out to mark his territory.

JQ stands stiffly beside me. His lips form a thin line and his jaw twitches tight.

"Babe, don't be so angry."

Flame, fire, movie-grade explosions flash in front of my eyes. "What? I don't get to be angry? Uh, no. I get to be rip-shit, boot-stomping, fuck you angry, Niko."

He lets out a long exhale. "Please, just talk to me." He lifts his chin toward JQ in dude-greeting, but then he notices we hold hands. "What's this?"

JQ tightens his grip, with a question in his eyes.

Yes, what is this? What did this become mere hours ago? I went from making a lifetime of mistakes in one night to waking up next to the love of my life,—what I thought was an impossibility—to reconciling, to my mother kicking me out. But I sense JQ's question is more along the lines of what are we and if we're anything then what is this guy who's at once charming and reviling in his rock and roll swagger.

"I'm sorry. I'm saying please," Niko says. It doesn't escape my notice that his apology comes out in short, jagged sentences, which means he's probably bullshitting.

"I'll talk. That's it," I say because if I don't, I might yell or break something.

He casts a triumphant glower in JQ's direction. I forgot how jealous Niko could be.

I lift to my toes, give JQ a kiss on the cheek, and say, "I'll listen to what he says and then he'll be gone. Please trust me." More importantly, I need to trust me. I can only imagine how JQ's feeling. Likely, uncertainty, worry, and upset to varying degrees.

JQ's eyebrows wrinkle, but his nostrils flare as he cuts a glare in Niko's direction. "You sure?" he asks.

I nod and give his hand a squeeze. He takes my bags and goes toward his house. I follow Niko down the path to the waiting SUV.

"Drive somewhere," Niko orders the man in the suit behind the wheel.

"But not far. I have a wicked hangover, haven't showered, and have someone to meet."

Niko reaches for my hand, but I snatch it away. "I can fix those problems." He leans to the driver and whispers directions. "So who's that knob?" he asks.

"I thought you wanted to talk to me," I retort.

"No, I want to kiss you, to rub my hands along your bare skin, to suck your tits and your pussy. I want to sing in your ear, rinsing your mind of strangers and other men."

"Not going to happen. The clock is ticking."

"Why are you so upset?"

"Are you really asking that question?"

"I really am," he says, turning toward the window.

I also forgot how cocky he can be. I scowl. "There are two parts. One, Kat set me up. She was jealous of our relationship, what I brought to the table or whatever, and what it gave me."

"Which is…?"

"She said power. Like I had the ability to influence the band. It's a lot of mind-bending bullshit if you ask me. Up until a month or so ago, I was into—" I gesture between the two of us. "Then she took it upon herself to interfere." As I say the words, I'm not entirely sure they're true, because when I'd close my eyes, I'd see JQ's staring back at me.

"You let her run you out?"

"No. It brings me to number two. I wasn't going to watch my boyfriend kiss another woman in front of me. You took our relationship and basically said a big eff-you to what we had."

"Halloween? Kat? I was drunk. We didn't have sex. She didn't matter."

"How sweet. But when your lips met hers, I was the one who didn't matter. All those guys I kissed on camera, they didn't matter either. How does it feel?"

"Don't be like that, babe."

"Josephine."

He sighs. The SUV stops in front of a hotel, and the driver gets out. Niko stays put.

"Listen, what happened that night was stupid. I wish it didn't. You have no idea how much I miss you. I don't understand what game Kat was playing, but she wasn't wrong about you. You do bring something. Things haven't been the same without you there. It's been boring. There's no—" He shrugs. "I don't know. There's no Josie magic."

I snort-laugh.

"And your laugh, it's like the music is gone from my life. I can't write, can hardly sing. I can't focus. All my ideas are shit." He takes my hand. "Please, come back. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

"Come inside and take a shower. I'll order room service."

I don't need him to take care of me, but I also don't want to impose at the Quaid's house; I'm sure my mother would love to hear about how I ran next door, begging for their help. I sigh and get out when the driver opens my door.

Niko slings his arm around my shoulder as we walk toward the entrance. His arm fits there effortlessly. If he's a puzzle, I'm his missing piece, and without me, he's incomplete, or I at least he thinks so. But the best parts of me fit with JQ. I remove Niko's arm.

"A shower, breakfast, and goodbye. That's it," I warn.

His smile lurks somewhere near smug satisfaction.

"Wipe that look off your face," I say.

It widens.

"I’m not flirting," I say as we enter the hotel.

He reaches around my waist, sweeping me off my feet and tosses me over his shoulder, laughing. "You're always flirting." He races down the hallway as I pound on his back.

"Niko, put me down."

In the room, he tosses me on the bed, caging me between his arms and legs. The curl of his lips and the soft smolder of his eyes hooks me and makes me want to rebel, but this time it's against him.

I push him off and bound to my feet. "Niko, I'm not flirting."

"What do you want to eat?" he asks, unfettered and undressing me with his eyes.

"Surprise me," I say, closing the bathroom door.

I lean over the sink and gulp water, splashing my face. The underside of my eyes tints dark from exhaustion and make up. The reflection I see is the one my mother must when she looks at me. A walking disaster. I glance away. I have no idea how JQ was able to tolerate me, no less take me seriously this morning. My phone beeps. It's him.

Are you ok?

I reply with the emoji with one winking eye, the other bulging, and the tongue sticking out.
No, not ok at all, #Crazy
.

Have you taken your medicine?

I take out my medicine and clean a patch of skin. My reflection in the mirror blurs. As I plunge the needle in, I wince as though pierced with the truth. I shouldn't be here.

As if to confirm this, Niko wraps on the door. "Are you naked yet?"

Be back soon
I text JQ with the kiss emoji.

"Nope. Showering with my clothes on." Nonetheless, I undress and get into the shower.

When I return to the room, Niko's lounging on the bed in just jeans and a T-shirt, scrolling through his phone. I wish I had a change of clothes because mine are as grubby as his rock star garb.

"Food should be here in a minute. Are you tired?"

My hands grip my hips. "Tired? Yes, Niko I'm tired. Exhausted. Tired of bullshit. Of games, of disappointment and regret, of lost nights, and dashed dreams." I sound mega dramatic, but it's all true.

"You should come lay down." He pats the bed.

The king size bed calls me forward to collapse onto the plush mattress, but instead I brush my fingers through my hair and linger by the door.

"I should warn you, you look tasty right now," he says.

I roll my eyes.

"I was just browsing the internet and came across #Kissing."

"Yes, we've established that you've seen my little project."

"The fact that you did that to make me jealous turns me on."

I throw my hands up, exasperated. "Yes, it was to piss you off, but it was also to piss off my mother, and JQ."

"JQ?" he asks, feigning ignorance.

"The guy you just met."

"Oh, him."

"Yes, him."

"What's he to you?"

I turn to the window. The clouded sky drops snow like tears, painting the view black and white. "He's not you."

The room holds our silence until there's a knock on the door with my food delivery.

From behind, I hear Niko set it down and cross the room. He stands behind me, wrapping his arms around me, pressing against me, measuring my borders. I sink back for a moment, letting him support me, giving the tired weight of my burdens over to him.

A minivan pulls in the lot below, reminding me of Mrs. Quaid's car. I shrug Niko off. "No. This is it. We're over."

His voice in my ear tunes to a growling melody. "I'm not giving up."