#Kissing (Rock and Romance #1) (20 page)

Chapter 56

I gobble the plate of food: eggs, toast, and fruit. Then without another word, I walk out the door. There's no use in talking to Niko if he's not going to listen.

The Escalade waits in the lot, and I knock the on the driver's window. "I need caffeine. Could you bring me to the coffee shop on Main and then take Niko back to wherever you found him."

The driver smirks. "Yes, miss. Sure thing."

Niko hauls out of the hotel, rushing after me. "Babe."

He reaches for my hand. I pull it away.

He puts his hand on my hip. I swat it off.

He reaches for my boob, and I swing at him.

"Stop." He's so tedious.

As the SUV motors slowly along the streets, lined with drifting snow, he asks, "Where are we going?" When I don't answer he repeatedly asks, "Are we there yet?" while poking me when I ignore him.

"Niko, stop."

"I'm just playing. Relax."

I meet his eyes. They're foggy like he only sees what he wants to. "I don't want to play anymore."

"But that's what you do. You make things fun. You order water balloons to a hotel room in the middle of the night and find adventure on top of giant slides."

His accent and words lull me. I didn't realize he'd noticed.

"You tease me with your lips and tits before a show. You bring the attention of everyone in a room to you. You're like magic. If you played an instrument, you'd be the most badass rock star." He holds up the cover of one of my needles; it must have rolled away in the bathroom. I really need to be a better diabetic. "Except you shouldn't get hooked on smack." His eyes turn dark as though he thinks he's found my soft spot and takes a jab.

He doesn't know me at all. "I do play an instrument, and I'm not addicted to heroin."

"You also shouldn't tell lies."

My crimped brow gives way to narrowed eyes and my fiercest glare.

Niko puts his hands up in surrender. "Whoa."

"I'm not lying. I'm not on drugs, and I do play the piano and any stringed instrument. Put it in my hand, and I'll play
Show us your Tits
better than you can."

His lips part. "Only if you show me your tits while you do it."

"Fuck you."

"Yes, please."

"I said, stop."

"You can't resist me." His hand lands on the place under my arm and dangerously close to my breast.

"It's not easy, but yes, I can. Here's where I leave. Thank you for the shower and food. Thank you for reminding me who I am."

"And who's that?"

I don't answer because it was a bluff; I'm not entirely sure who I am, but it's not with Niko.

"I'll be in the studio for the next week. You should come and play any stringed instrument, better than me. It could be The Halos featuring Josie on a bonus track. I'd put us on the cover kissing. After #Kissing that would probably sell plenty of copies."

I can't tell if he's humoring me, genuine, or just trying to have the last word. Probably all three.

"Bye, Niko," I say, unfolding from the plush leather seat of the SUV.

"I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave." He tosses me a smolder along with a low whistle.

I slam the door behind me, my boots leaving tracks in the thin layer of snow, and away from Niko.

Chapter 57

The coffee shop is empty except for Penny watching me through the window. "I'm not even going to pretend I didn't just see that," she says when I bluster in. "Was that—?"

"Niko from the Halos? The one and only," I answer.

"I saw the car pull up and after so much media contact from #Kissing I thought maybe it was—"

"Someone famous. Yeah, well, it's not all it's cracked up to be. I'm super, unbelievably sorry about last night. I hope you take my apology better than I took Niko's."

"He came to Cranville to say he was sorry?"

"He wants me back. Only because he's jealous. You did the right thing by texting JQ."

"I wasn't sure what to do and you were, like, passing out, and I didn't know if it was because you'd drank too much or because you didn't take your medicine or what, but I had to get up early to be here this morning and—" she says all in one breath.

I take her hand in mine to quell her uncertainty. "I admire you, Penny. You're independent and responsible, and a wonderful friend. I aspire to that. Also you're a great kisser," I say with a wink, so the moment doesn't get too sappy.

I help myself to the makings of a dirty chai behind the counter while I tell her about waking up next to JQ and the realizations I've had. "Growing up, my mother made sure I never failed so I didn't learn how to move on from all of these mistakes I've been making; instead, I just kept making more. Hashtag double fail. It's time for me to grow up and get my shit figured out. Also, she officially, there's-no-going-back, kicked me out, but that's probably a good thing."

"You're welcome at my place."

"And with JQ," I say.

Penny raises her eyebrows.

"Dirty mind." I raise my cup of dirty chai. "Cheers to that." I pause, considering telling her something no one else knows. "There's another thing," I swallow. "I've never had an orgasm, except—" I wiggle my hand.

"Really? Well, uh, me neither." Her cheeks turn pink.

"I respect that you're a virgin. I'm an orgasm virgin." I chuckle.

Penny joins me at a table in the otherwise empty shop. Resisting a smile she says, "I want my life to be one big orgasm."

We both break into laughter. "I wish I had that on film. That's like the best thing ever."

"So back to JQ and Niko."

"Niko, it's over. JQ, it's just beginning. Or rebeginning. I feel so different with him, more me and with more freedom to be me. He's thoughtful and honest; there's no agenda. It's more of a mutual thing. Niko told me I was magic. Ha. In many ways he was as dependent on me as I was on him."

"What's your plan? At least you don't have to worry about money."

"Actually, my father cut me off too. Like I said, it's time for me to be an adult and get a job, a place to stay, and find a purpose"

"No, you're rich."

"Penny, I'm not—",

"#Kissing." She pulls her phone from her apron and taps the screen to a mobile banking app before holding an account balance out to me.

"Whoa. From the website and videos?"

"Yeah."

I shake my head. "You're rich," I say. Although I could use certainly use some of it to get started, I'd rather begin this chapter of my life with a clean slate, untouched by my rebellious and vengeful antics.

"What are you talking about?" she asks.

"You earned that, Penny."

"You were the star."

"Hardly. You filmed and edited, created the website, maintained it, thought to monetize the thing. That's yours. Now you can go to film school."

"That's, like, years worth of school. I can't take it."

"Give me a grand to get started and call us good."

"We're splitting it at least."

"How about you apply to film school, and I'll let you know if I need any cash. You can be my sugar mama. Remember what I said about independence, I need to take these next steps on my own."

My phone buzzes. It's JQ.
Checking in
.
Hope everything is all right. If you need anything…

I'm good. At the coffee shop by CHS with Penny.

Should I pick you up?

There's no hesitation in my answer.
Please.

Ten minutes later, I'm giving Penny a hug and walking toward the awaiting minivan.

"You always have a spot on my floor and about a million in my bank account," she says.

"I'll keep that in mind. But when you're accepted into a film program, I expect to have a spot on your couch in your apartment in some awesome city."

"That's a deal. So, is #Kissing officially done filming?"

"Actually, can you come outside with me for one second," I say, gesturing her toward the door. "Bring your camera," I add with a wink.

I cross to the driver's side and take JQ by the hand, pulling him into the street. The falling snow blankets our shoulders and dots his hair as I stretch my lips to his. They're hesitant, but warm when they touch.

He quickly pulls away. "What about you and—?" he starts, wearing the question about Niko and me on his face.

"Nothing happened. He's a spoiled rock star, used to getting everything that he wants and more," I add. "Don't let him get your goat."

"Oh, my goat is not gotten." Leave it to JQ to add levity to any situation and bring a laugh to my lips that isn't out of spite or malice, but he brushes a concerned hand down his chin. "I could care less about him. It's you. Do I have you?" he asks.

I bob up toward his lips, but I stop this time. I'll answer with a kiss, but first, I say, "I've waited far too long and made far too many mistakes for you to ask me that question, for you to even want to kiss me back or want anything to do with me, but yes. Yes, yes, yes. You're who I want in my life. Whatever I've got left, whatever I'm going to make or do in the future, it's for you, for us, and I hope it's worth it."

"Josephine, you're always worth it."

With that, we close the distance, our lips crashing together and lingering He fills his arms with me, drawing me closer. My heart drums a steady beat through my jacket, and I hear the opening notes of us. This is the beginning of our song; two hearts playing against the silence of the snow.

His lips are smooth and rhythmic against mine, like I'm an instrument he knows exactly how to play.

Our noses brush as we shift positions, and I grip the opening of his jacket, the zipper digging into my hand. Our lips and tongues work together, content and then fierce, calm and then intense as we kiss and kiss and kiss.

Penny says, "Ok, guys. I've got it. And cut."

We don't stop.

"Well, alright. I'm going back inside now. It's freezing out here."

I don't care about the cold because the fire burning between us could melt the snow.

Chapter 58

If #Kissing became a reality show, I'd lose viewers because of how sweet JQ and I are, watching romantic comedies at his parents' house, him rubbing my feet, me passing out on the couch, only to wake to him snuggled in behind me, with a knit blanket pulled over us both. I mean, I wouldn't watch the show; I prefer high drama and train wrecks, and oh-no-she didn't moments, but I'd much rather live this version of romance even if we've been sleeping in separate rooms—his parents are old fashioned like that, and I don't dare sneak out after their show of hospitality.

Mrs. Quaid doesn't ask about what happened, though I imagine my mother knows that I'm here. She cares in her own way, and I'm lucky not to be completely on my own like Penny, but still, the sooner I don't have to look out the window and see the façade of the taupe house with white trim, and the unhappiness it contains, the better off I'll be.

I sit at the kitchen table with my knees pulled into my chest, sipping warm, mulled cider. Mrs. Quaid is that kind of mom. Now that most of her children are grown up, she takes any opportunity to dote.

"Josie, I put your clean laundry on your bed. If there's anything else I can do—"

"You've done loads—"

"Well, yes," she replies, her eyebrows creeping together.

JQ laughs. "She means you've done tons already. How about we make lunch. Go put your feet up and read one of those books you always say you don't have time to get around to opening."

She wrings her hands as though this might be too good to be true. I understand how she feels.

The Quaid's house is comfortably lived in with stacks of mail and sports equipment and a chair only half repaired in the corner. There's clutter, but there are also the symbols of a family that shares a life, not one where everything is in its proper place, including the people. I don't spare a scowl in the direction of my mother's house of illusion.

JQ gently steers his mom toward the living room. "Off with you, just don't complain if I make grilled cheese." He gives her a squeeze before she exits. "Don't worry; I'll add a tomato too." He turns to go, but she says, "Make sure you use the pan that—"

"Mom," JQ says playfully stern.

"Ok, ok. Just the butter is—" He waves her off.

In a few strides, he stands in front of me and takes my hands, lifting me to my feet. He peeks in the direction of the living room and then inclines his head toward mine. His breath is peppermint perfection. I inhale him in, our lips hover a fraction apart as if we're both lingering in the electricity of this moment, of moving from possibility to certainty that we have each other now. Our lips meet in confirmation.

When Mrs. Quaid calls in from the living room, checking on her sandwich, and we pull apart.

He butters the bread and passes me a tomato. "Are you still thinking about playing house with me in New York?"

"You mean dorm?"

"It's a suite. My room is a single. The walls are thin, but I guarantee no one's ears are as keen as my mother's so we can get away with—" His lips quirk. The heat kindling between my legs has only gotten hotter as the day has progressed. Being alone with him in a room, dorm or not, sounds good right about now.

He sets the bread, layered with cheese, in the pan and then abandons the stove, wrapping his arms tightly around me, still stationed at the cutting board, slicing the tomato. He nips my earlobe and nuzzles my neck.

"What do I have to do to convince you to come?" he asks, leaning against the counter.

I drop the knife from my trembling hand, the throb aching between my legs. "About that—" I turn and thread my arms around his neck.

"Josie, I understand you're a bit spooked about college and everything, but it's worth checking out. Maybe it won't feel so huge now—"

"Huge?" I whisper. This time I glance toward the living room. "I wanted to tell you that I've never come while having—"

He lifts his eyebrows and his expression shifts from boyish in his parents' kitchen to wolfish and hungry.

"You're smirking," I say.

He meets my gaze and right there, I melt, and by melt, I mean the ache between my legs makes me wet.

With two big hands, he grips my backside and hikes me onto the counter so we're face to face.

"So what you're saying is you want me to make you come?" he says in a low voice.

My breath catches. "I've never seen you like this."

"Like what?" he asks, leaning closer.

"So fucking sexy," I whisper.

His lips dance against mine.

"Oh, and challenge accepted," he says as our mingling breath ratchets to a sizzle. Or maybe that's the burning sandwiches.

JQ dashes to the stove and turns on the vent fan.

"Everything ok in there, JQ? It smells like they're almost done."

"I'll bring it to you in a sec," he replies. "Oops." He's handsomely sheepish now, the commanding version of him gone. "You, me, N-Y-C?" he asks.

"Is there a stove?" I ask, not wanting to cause a fire.

"Don't worry. The dorm has a sprinkler system," he says, winking before flipping the bread, and pecking me on the lips.

Right now, in the simplicity of this moment, I have no desire to rebel, drink, or be a bitch. In fact, I'd rather stay here, perched on this counter, kissing this man for a long, long time.