Page 592 of One More Kiss
Taking my time, I gaze at him. Both his lip and eyebrow are pierced and the tattoos visible on his neck, arms, and hands seem to continue under his shirt. They all seem to be connected.
They should make him look scary, intimidating. But they don’t. They only add to his appeal. It almost looks like they’re there with the intention to keep people away. Like armor. But they’re doing the opposite, drawing me in, calling to me.
My eyes are flitting over his face and ink. My stomach is jumping, seeming to flip around on itself. I’ve never experienced this reaction to anyone before.
A sigh leaves my throat and I feel my lips curve up into a small smile. It feels foreign though… nice. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said those things.”
I do though. I’m lying.
I’m so unused to people paying me any attention that when someone does, it almost felt like a jest.
His lips curve in an answering smile as his hand raises to his neck. He squeezes the back of it as he sighs deeply. I’m mesmerized by the combination of the myriad of ink displayed and the way his lips move as he says, “Let’s start over. I’m Asher.”
He’s telling me his name?
Should I tell him mine?
Why not? It’s not like it matters.
I respond. “I’m Kristee.”
“Kristee… It suits you. So, what are you doing out here on the levee at dark, Kristee?” He asks, sounding genuinely curious.
What do I say? Do I lie?
What would he do if I told him the truth?
What could he do?
Staring right at him, I say, “I came to kill myself.”
His eyes widen as he freezes. His light eyes dart between mine, as though he’s uncertain of the truth in my words. He stares at me, and I stare back. Finally, his brow raises as he simply says, “I see.”
He sees? Sees what?
That’s it?
My head angles and my brows rise with confusion. I don’t know what reaction I was expecting to my words, but that wasn’t it.
He continues to look at me intently as he says, “Well, I don’t think you should do that, Kristee.”
He doesn’t? Why not?
Before I can respond, he continues. “I think it would be a great loss if you were gone from the world… Kristee.”
He doesn’t know me. Why would he say that? No one would even care.
And why does he keep saying my name like that?
I whisper, “Why would you say that? You don’t know me. No one would care if I was gone. No one.”
His words are clear as he gruffly says, “That is blatantly false. I would care. And you’re right, I don’t know you, but it feels like I do. Isn’t that wild? I just met you, but I feel a connection with you. I don’t know what you’re going through, Kristee, but you’re very wrong about no one caring if you were gone. I think that very well might break my damn heart.”
Break his heart?
I feel connected to him, too.
His voice is saying more than his words. He does understand.
