First Kiss (3 page)

Sam rubs my arms, "That was a rocky mountain bear fucker.
It would fuck up a bear."

I shake my head, "So bad."

Sam bends my head back and plants his lips against my
forehead, "You are now my hero."

I feel a shiver of heat rush through me. I glance over at him
and frown, "How many of those have you had?" He has pressed his lips
against my face; he must be
more drunk
than he seems.

He shakes his head, "I don’t do tequila and sambuca
together. Yuck."

I swat at him, "That’s what you put in there?" When
my stomach gurgles, I rub it and frown, “What did you do? My stomach sounds
like I’ve been eating spicy food.”

Miles laughs, "I almost threw up, Lynnie."

Sam laughs again.

"You are all kinds of reckless, aren’t you?" Bastion
asks and shoves himself off the wall. He turns away from me and walks into the
crowd of people in the living room.

"What?" I shake my head and look at Brandon and
speak quietly, "Dude, what's with your cousin? Why does he hate me?"
I brace myself for the obvious answer—hundreds of years of killing men
left, right and center.

Brandon shakes his head, "He's pissed about being here.
Hell, we didn’t even know we were family. My dad’s brother met some lady and
he’s her son. They decided to go do Doctors Without Borders and left him with
nowhere to live. He just showed up yesterday with a letter for my dad from his
brother explaining he was coming. We didn’t even know he existed or that my
uncle had remarried. No phone call or email or even a text. Nothing. He had an
old-fashioned handwritten letter.” He rolls his eyes, “My uncle’s always hated
being from Podunk Maine, always been a bit snooty. My dad said he was like that
when they were kids even. So poor Bastion's being forced to stay with my family
for the summer because he was in residence at Yale and couldn’t find a rental
in time for the summer. He thought he was going home to Seattle to work at the
hospital with his mom. Nope! They booked Africa, and then even let one of the
doctors from their hospital stay at their house. So then he had nowhere to
stay. They
kinda
just dropped this bomb on him and us.
So yeah, he's not pumped about being here. Dad’s excited though, cheap labor
for the summer.” He winks at me.

I laugh, “He’s going to work at the store?”

He nods, “Yeah, not exactly a hospital in Seattle. Dad said
maybe he could also work at the school. Ya know, help people with tutoring for
summer school. Dude’s a genius.”

I roll my eyes, “Great.” I am doing classes at the community
college, in case the music thing doesn’t work out. Hopefully I will be done
before he is working there.

Brandon shrugs, “He’s gonna be a surgeon or something. He
seems pretty straight-laced. He spent the whole morning reading old classic
books from the library. You should have seen how excited he got about it. It
was a little weird. I think watching you act like a seasoned drunk is making
him leery of us all. He probably thinks we're all drunks now. Thanks,
Lynnie." He winks at me again and leaves the dining room.

A giggling brunette comes bouncing into the room and lays
across the table, "Pour it in my mouth, Sam."

He flirts with her the same way he did me, rubbing her
shoulders. I hate myself for liking him more than I should. I don’t look back
at him as I leave the room through the opposite door that Bastion left through.
Sam is a daydream, nothing more. I need to be real about the things in my life.

I weave and snake my way through the crowd. I see Sarah,
Maggie, Jenny, and Lune sitting on the couches in the huge living room. I walk
through the dancing kids and find a seat with my girls. My eyes never leave
Sam. He kisses a girl in the hallway on the lips. She shoves him back
playfully. I don’t hate her for kissing him. I wish I were
her
.
I wish it were my lips placed against his, pressing into them. Letting him suck
my bottom lip the way he did hers. I hate the way his eyes search out mine when
he’s done kissing her.

"Okay yum. Brandon's cuz is hot. Like H.A.W.T," Lune
shouts loud enough for him to hear it.

I roll my eyes, "Not my type. He’s stuck up. He knows
he's hot. Yuck."

She nudges me, "That is a sexy boy. Plus, he goes to
Yale. If he isn’t your type then no one is your type."

I nod, although it’s not true. Sam is my type. He is my secret
type. Hard to have a type publicly, when the threat of them dying is lingering
over them at all times.

I leave my seat after a few songs, in search of a bathroom. A
huge hand grabs mine and I’m pulled into a closet.

"Lynnie, you look really hot,” Sam whispers down on my
mouth.

My heart aches. He’s so drunk. I have always wished for him to
say that very thing to me, but not drunk. His warm face brushes against mine.

"Sam, don’t," I push at him.

"Lynnie, I have always wanted to do this.
Just one kiss.
I’ve missed you so bad," he whispers.
His hands roam my back and butt.

I am in the moment I have always wanted to be in. Instead of doing
it, instead of having my first kiss, I shake my head against his hard chest.
"I can't—we can’t." I close my eyes and let it feel good for
the moment I can afford to give it. I push him off of me and walk from the
closet.

My hand is grabbed again, "Come on. Time to sing."
Sarah hands me my guitar, beaming. She can't see my aching heart or the pain in
my throat where the lump is sitting. Something has changed in my world. My
unrequited love might not have always been so unrequited.

It’s something I let myself have. Sam likes me back, even if
it is just a little, and even if he only really shows it when he's drunk. That
has to be enough.

I walk with the guitar, more nervous about playing for the
intimate gathering of sixty kids in a house, than I was in the rowdy bar. I
close my eyes and lower my face. No one talks, in anticipation. It feels weird.

I have a storm of things brewing inside of me.

My fingers start it, they usually do. They stroke the strings
a few times. I open my mouth and start to sing. Nothing else matters once I
start. My voice scratches through the ballad. Maggie and Sarah sing backup for
me. They know I hate singing alone in a house full of people. I don’t mind the
stage where everything is impersonal.

The song is mine. I wrote it when I was fourteen. I wrote it
for the boy who nearly kissed me. Who nearly died to kiss me, if the curse is
true? If it’s not, he’s still braver than I am. I ran home, terrified of his
kiss.

We sing and I strum until the end of the song. I finish,
feeling my cheeks burning. I glance up and catch the stormy eyes of Bastion. He
glares at me. I can't help but notice his handsome face, even with the evil
glare. It isn’t something I have seen before. My singing has never made someone
glare at me before.

My staring is interrupted by someone
shouting at me, "Sing Baylor next."

I clench inside, about to shake my head, but the room starts
to chant it, “BAYLOR, BAYLOR!”

They don’t understand that’s the song that makes me sad. I
wrote it one night when I was feeling something I couldn’t understand. I wrote
the song and my heart hurt, but I didn’t know why. I still don’t. I don’t know
a Baylor. I didn’t even know it's a name until I Googled it.

I open my mouth and let the haunting words slip from my lips.
It sounds depressing. It’s supposed to. After the haunting solo intro, I start
picking at the guitar. The song can bring tears to my eyes, but I won't let it.

I finish and hand Sarah my guitar. She knows I need her to
take it.

Everyone claps. The house music starts back up, but it feels
small, compared to me singing, like my voice is still ringing off of the walls.
I fidget with my fingers and bite my lip. I hate the attention singing gains
me, but I love that it's something that makes them all happy. I am one of them
and they like me for something normal.

I slip through the room and let the back pats and gratitude
wash over me.

I grab a glass of water in the kitchen, leaning against the
counter, staring out the back window. The feel of Sam’s breath on my face is
still there. I’m a coward. I should have let him kiss me there in the dark. No
one would have known. If he had died, no one would have suspected me. I close
my eyes, pushing away my horrid desire to take liberties with someone else’s
life.

"You are good."

I try not to freeze completely after hearing Bastion’s voice.
I spin, wiping my mouth, "Thanks, Bastion."

“My friends call me Bash.” He looks like he’s frozen in
something—a thought or a moment he’s having by himself.

“Am I your friend?”

He nods, “I would like you to be.”

I put the glass on the counter and walk out of the kitchen,
“I’ll take it into consideration.”

He grabs my arm. It feels weird having someone touch me. The
fact it’s been happening all night with Sam is odd enough, but Bastion is a
stranger. I look down at his huge hand wrapped around my arm and frown, “What
are you doing?”

"I didn’t mean to offend you and call you a drunk or
anything. If we’re going to be friends, I want to apologize for that." His
grey eyes catch my stare again. They hold me hostage.

I watch them and forget what we were talking about.
"What?"

He blushes and looks down. His thick lashes cover his eyes,
"Before. I wasn’t implying you're some kind of small-town drunk or
something."

I shake my head. His fingers are burning into my arm, "I'm
not," I sputter, "o-o-offended. I'm not." God, I know him from
somewhere, I swear it.

He grips my arm and his words become a whisper, "I just
wouldn’t be able to handle something bad happening to you. Your recklessness is
frightening." He speaks like he’s in a daze. I don’t know why, but I
believe him. It doesn’t make sense he should care about me, but I can tell he
does. It’s intense and sincere and creepy, in a way I apparently enjoy. Of
course I do. The girl who kills boys with a single kiss would also be a sucker
for weird insta-love. Why not? It’s ironic and funny. I’m sure God is up there
having a chuckle at it. He doesn’t smile at me. He stares like he is lost in my
eyes.

I have no idea what’s happening, and why I can’t stop looking
into those grey eyes, but I wonder if the alcohol has gotten to me.

Sam bursts into the kitchen and grabs my other arm. He pulls
me. Bastion holds on tight for a moment and then lets me go.

"I want to dance with you." Sam kisses the top of my
head, pressing his lips into my hair. I look back at Bastion and notice the way
his jaw is clenched.

Sam grips my hips and rubs his body against mine, making me
move with him.

I look up at him, "You're acting weird."

He grins. His smile makes me smile back, "I'm just done,
Lynnie. I'm done with all the nonsense of this small town. I went to Harvard
this year and it opened my eyes in a lot of ways. I know what I want now."
He’s always been the most popular boy in school, and by far, the best looking.
I've liked him forever. We have always been friends. I'd even helped fix him up
with Lune and Sarah, convincing them how awesome he was. Mostly so I could date
him vicariously through them. He's dated everyone but
me, and
Maggie
.

I can’t help but be suspicious, "What's different? What
did you learn?"

He shrugs, "I just have wanted to do this for a long time
and I'm done letting this small town tell me I can't."

"Dance?"

He shakes his head, "Be with you. You're almost nineteen,
Lynnie. Surely you have to be allowed to live at some point."

My stomach flips and I can't help but beam and work out
possibilities in my head, "Why now? In October I'm going to New York, and
you're going back to school in Boston in September. What do you want—a
summer fling, Sam? I don’t think I'm up for that."

He kisses my cheek, "I don't know. I just want this. I
don’t want to think about anything else." His lips press their warmth so
close to my lips. When he pulls back, his deep-blue eyes search my face. He’s
beautiful. He smiles, flashing his dimples at me.

I could sigh and stare, but I have an odd feeling in my
stomach. It’s the other side of the possibilities. The things I am known for.
The things my family is known for. The things I always say I don’t believe in,
but that’s a brave stance, when it’s only me I am risking. Here, with his lips
pressed against my face, I am about to have a heart attack.

I glance over to the darkest corner of the room.
A pair of grey eyes watch
me. They look torn.

I swallow and look at Lune. She’s mouthing things at me like,
'What the hell?’ and 'OMG'. I’m not great at reading lips but her wide mouth
makes it easy. I shake my head subtly, and continue dancing. I can't shake the
unsettling conflict inside of me.

I think he can feel me cooling off. He smiles like we are
friends again, "You still thinking New York then?" he asks over the
music.

I nod, “Yeah. I saved up enough for this year, and when I turn
twenty, I’ll get the money from my dad. So that should get me through next
year. Two years should be long enough to not worry about starving. Plus, I'll
work full-time wherever I end up. So the savings will be my ‘in-case’ money.”

He pulls me in close and kisses alongside my mouth again. I
know he isn’t actually kissing my lips, but it’s close. No one has ever been
that brave before.

No matter how badly I want to tell him he shouldn’t, I don’t.
I close my eyes and let his skin against mine feel like everything I have been
missing. I like the touching and the way he feels all over me. It’s different,
and after eighteen years, different is exceptional.

I run my hands up into his hair. It’s softer than I thought it
would be. He cups my ass. My skin is on fire. It feels the same as when I’m
singing, like we’re alone and everything is electrically charged.