It wasn’t a tender soft-lipped kiss, or agentle touching of tongue-on-tongue. No. Patrick Kinney went in for the kill.
He pressed his lips to mine with an impuredetermination, running his hand through my hair and gripping the nape of myneck. He pulled me against him and made me feel for the first time that what wewere doing wasn’t enough, but I wouldn’t dare say it or act on it. Not yet.
I was left panting, breathless by the time hehad released his claim over my mouth, and he looked back and forth between myeyes.
“Kinsey, I loveeverythin’about you.”
He pinched his eyes shut, shaking his head, asthough to say, “No, that wasn’t right.” When he opened them, he kissed meagain, holding my cheek in his hand. It was somehow more romantic, moreintimate than before, when his tongue was in my mouth and his hands were in myhair. He held the kiss for only a few seconds, pulling away to smile and bringthose dimples to life.
“I loveyou.”
I bit my bottom lip to control the quivering,after hearing his voice say those words I had practiced on so many emotional,hormone-tormented nights. He knew I would say it back, and he waited for mycomposure to return as his thumb stroked against my cheek.
“I love you too,” I finally said, the wordsfloating from my mouth on an airy sigh.
He released the breath held in his lungs tomingle with mine, and I think we both understood that we had just closed thedoor on only like-liking each other. We opened the door to being in love, readyto drop to the floor and wrap ourselves in each other for a planned eternity.
God, if only we had remembered to lock thatdoor.
?
“You’re so lame,” I said, hushed against the chirpingcrickets.
“Maybe, but it’s my favorite. I like to think that first ‘Ilove you’ was the moment Ireallymade you mine.”
Mine. The word struck a chord inmy heart, as his eyes flitted, dancing around my face. He was searching forsomething, something he had lost. The question was, would I let him find it?Would I let him uncover that part of me, the one that was right where he hadleft it?
“That’s pathetic, considering you were married for tenyears,” I retorted, lacking the edge I had intended on.
“I never loved her, Kinsey.”
My browfurrowedand my hands cameup, pushing against his chest, pushing him away. “You are not allowed to saythat, and try to make this better.”
“I’m nottryin’ to make anythingbetter. I know I can’t do that, but I’m justsayin’,I never told her I loved her, not even once, because I only ever loved you.”His eyes reflected sincerity, and I knew he was telling the truth.
But it wasn’t enough.
“Maybe,” I said, allowing my bitterness to drip a little onthe word. It was sour in my mouth; could he taste it, too? “But you still lether win.”
Chapter 7 |
Tramp Stamps & Betrayal
We met Christinewhen we were seventeen.
Fourteen years after we met, five years afterour firstrealkiss, and two years after we became a couple, we metthe girl who would ruin everything on the first day of twelfth grade.
Hailing from New Jersey, she was brand new toRiver Canyon. I thought it was stupid to start at a new school in your lastyear, but her parents had enrolledherso she couldgraduate with a diploma, instead of having to get her GED at one of the localcommunity colleges. She was very plainly angry about their plan, scowling atthe front of the class as our teacher fumbled over her name.
“Everybody, this is Christine Bee—um, Bough—”
“It’s Beauregard,” she corrected with a sneer.“And I’m supposed to trust you with my education?”
The other kids giggled, mouths covered byhands. The teacher—whatever his name was—straightened his glasses withembarrassment, waving her in the direction of an empty seat.
And me? I smiled, ready to talk her ear offbefore the first bell rang.
She wore skirts, band t-shirts, and Chucks,just like me. She loved cats, piercings, and a perfectly made sandwich, justlike me. She hated MTV, Britney Spears, and chocolate ice cream, just like me.I liked her instantly, and beneath that, I hated her immediately. I think Iknew we were too similar. Too close tosharingthesame soul and interests. Too close tosharingthe sametaste in boys—in men.
