Signed With a Kiss
(Honeyton Alexis, #1)
Jessica Sorensen
Contents
Author’s Note
Alexis
Alexis
West
Alexis
Alexis
West
About the Author
Also by Jessica Sorensen
Signed With a Kiss
Jessica Sorensen
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 2019 by Jessica Sorensen
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
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Cover design by Najla Qamber Designs
Created with Vellum
Author’s Note
Dear Reader!
Thanks for Reading Signed With a Kiss (Honeyton Alexis, #1). Please note that this is a serial series that follows the life of Alexis. There are also stories available that follow the lives of her siblings, so make sure to check those out.
Thanks for reading!
Jessica Sorensen
Alexis
For the past couple of years, I’ve been in love with my best friend Blaine. Which yeah, I know, I probably sound like a complete walking cliché. And if I could change my feelings for him, I would. But ever since my fourteenth birthday, I started getting butterflies in my stomach every time he looks at or touches me.
And no, I’m not silly enough to believe that getting butterflies means I’m in love with him. I know I’m in love with him for several reasons. One, I’d do practically anything for him, even questionable things I normally wouldn’t do. Like, for instances, I once lied to his mom about where he was so he wouldn’t get in trouble for going to a party. I didn’t lie because he asked me to—Blaine would never do that—but because I have this uncontrollable urge to protect him.
The second reason is because I’m not a fan of any of his girlfriends. Sure, I pretend to like them, but that doesn’t mean I actually do. And half the time, I don’t even have a good reason for disliking them.
And the third is simple. When I think of my future and who I want to spend the rest of my life with, I see Blaine.
Coming to this conclusion when I was fourteen was very unfortunate and has made first dates and first kisses seem pointless. Which is probably why, at seventeen years old, I’ve had a total of zero boyfriends, kissed one guy, and … well, that’s about it for me when it comes to the boyfriend department.
“Oh, God, here we go again,” my friend Masie says from the lounge chair across from mine. “Seriously, Alexis, you need to just tell him how you feel.”
Shit. Did I just say my thoughts aloud?
“No way,” I say, readjusting my sunglasses.
The sun is hot against my pale skin, and I wonder if I should put on more sunscreen. I’ve never actually worn a bikini, since I burn simply thinking about the sun. Plus, I’m not a bikini girl—never have been. Masie’s theory is that I act this way because I suffer from low self-esteem, caused by being teased during my early high school years. Which, yes, I know happens to a lot of people. And these people, I’m sure, can wear bikinis later on in life, if they choose to. But not all of them do, so I’m not an anomaly. When I tried to explain all this to her, she just shook her head.
“Oh, Alexis, when will you start seeing things for what they really are?” she asked. We were about fifteen at the time, and I’ll admit I was a bit more naive than I am now. “I blame books. You read too much, and it messes with your sense of reality.”
“My sense of reality is fine,” I replied. Seriously, did she just say I read too much? Jesus, Masie. I mean, she’s cool and everything, but the girl can be a damn ditz sometimes. “And what does that even have to do with wanting to wear a bikini? Maybe it’s just not my thing. Not every girl wants to wear one.”
“It’s not just the bikini,” she said. “It’s the clothes you wear. Seriously, you dress like you think you’re a Goth princess. And you hardly talk to people at parties. And don’t even get me started on dating.”
“I haven’t even gone on a date in a while.”
“Exactly,” she said, as if it proved some hidden point. “Look, we’ve been friends forever, so trust me when I tell you that all that shit you went through our freshman year messed with your head. But you’re not that girl anymore. You’re beautiful, smart, and funny. You just need to realize it and start letting other people see it. You know, let your wall down.”
“Aw, that’s so sweet, Masie,” I joked, mostly to annoy her. “But if you’re about to ask me out on a date, I’m going to have to decline. Not because I don’t like you and think you’re not pretty, but I just don’t swing that way.”
She sighed. “Oh, Alexis.”
She said that a lot when she was frustrated with me. She reminded me of my mom when she did it, but if I ever told her that, she’d get pissed.
I swallow hard at the sudden thought of my mom. While I try not to think about her or my dad, sometimes thoughts of them sneak up on me. Which might sound weird, but after they died in a car accident when I was fifteen, I made a vow to not deal with the pain that is constantly grasping inside me. And not dealing with the pain meant not thinking about my parents. That is part of the reason “the wall,” as Masie calls it, was put up. That’s when I became more closed off. But it’s better that way. Easier. Trust me; I’ve tried a few times to let the wall down, but the pain is too unbearable.
“Earth to Alexis.” Masie waves her hand in front of my face, yanking me from the memory. “Did you hear anything I just said?”
“Um, sure,” I lie.
She draws down her sunglasses to narrow her eyes at me accusingly.
I sigh. “All right, fine. I didn’t hear you. I’m sorry. I was just thinking about something.”
She cocks her brow. “About Blaine?”
“No.” It might be the first time I answered that question truthfully, since he’s usually on my mind.
A lot.
Okay, that’s a lie. I think about Blaine about ninety-nine percent of the time. But what the hell else am I supposed to think about? Blaine is the easiest thing to occupy my brain … and the less painful.
“I’m telling the truth.” I flip the page of the mystery book I’ve been reading for the last hour while Masie and I have been sun tanning. Or, well, Masie has been tanning while I doused my body in so much sunscreen I feel like a greasy french fry.
Masie is the opposite of me. Her tanned skin glistens against the sun. Add that to her sun-kissed blonde hair and curvy body, she’s practically a beach goddess. And then there’s me. Long, dark brown, nearly black hair; pale skin with a few freckles here and there; tall; and slightly on the gangly side. I look like I belong in a basement or a crypt. That’s okay, though. The look doesn’t bother me. It used to, back in the day when I actually used to wear a lot of pink and glittery things. But after my parents died, I decided to hell with it and became a new person. A person who wears a lot of black and studded clothing, and who would never, ever be caught dead wearing anything sparkly.
“You don’t belong in a crypt,” Masie says as she r
eaches for a glass of lemonade on the table between us.
“I didn’t mean to say that aloud.”
“Yeah, well, you did.” She takes a sip of the drink then sets the glass down. “You know, you talk to yourself a lot.”
“And you say that a lot.”
“Touché.” She grins.
I mirror her grin, then frown when the back gate to her house creaks open.
Bolting upright, I rush to grab my towel to cover up, because there is no way in hell I’m going to let anyone see this much of me.
“Don’t you dare.” Masie sits up and snatches the towel from my hands.
“Give it back,” I growl, lunging at her.
Grinning, she jumps up from the lounge chair and skitters toward the diving board.
The gate is around the corner of her two-story brick house that she rents from her parents, so I don’t have a view of who’s coming back here. The last thing I want is for her younger brother, the pool cleaner, the landscapers, or anyone else to see me rocking a two-piece. Granted, it’s a nice two-piece—black with cute, little boy short bottoms, embroidered with stars—but my belly, legs, cleavage—what I have, anyway—and even the bottom of my ass cheeks are completely on display. And I’m not comfortable with anyone other than Masie—and even her I’m not that comfortable with—seeing me like this.
“Masie …” I warn as I hurry toward her. “If you don’t give me my towel back, I’ll …”
She hops onto the diving board with my towel in her hand. “You’ll what?” She inches toward the edge.
“I’ll …” I rack my brain for a nice, vicious threat, my gaze skimming the backyard, the pool, the lounge chairs. When I spot the high-heeled, designer shoes she wore out here, an idea strikes me. I turn around, grinning at her. “I’ll throw your shoes in the pool.”
Her teasing grin fades. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Wanna bet?” I pad over to the lounge chair, pick up her shoes, then walk to the edge of the pool, dangling her pretty footwear that I could never afford over the water. “Now, come on; give me my towel back.”
She eyes the shoes then sighs as she backs up. “Fine. But please just step away from the water. You’re making me nervous.”
I take a few steps back, remaining close enough in case she backs out of our agreement.
Frowning, she makes her way off the diving board and climbs down the ladder. As her feet plant on the concrete, the back-gate intruder rounds the house.
Suddenly, her younger brother, the pool boy, or the landscapers don’t seem that terrible of options, because the person who enters the backyard is none other than Blaine.
As always, he’s in full sexy form; light brown hair, the most gorgeous blue eyes ever, a rock-hard body, lean arms. He’s sporting board shorts and a green shirt, my favorite color on him.
Wait. Back the hell up. He’s wearing board shorts, which means someone must have invited him over here to swim. And since this lovely, two-story, swimming pool palace belongs to only one person …
I narrow my eyes at Masie, who flashes me an innocent look before a devious grin spreads across her face.
That little brat. She totally did this on purpose. Why? To humiliate me in front of Blaine while I’m wearing a bikini? Granted, she probably doesn’t think this is humiliation since she insists I look great. In fact, my guess is she thinks she’s doing me a favor. That if Blaine sees me in all my glorious, ass hanging out form, we’d have one of those guy-realizes-his-best-friend-is-really-beautiful-underneath-the-punk-clothes-and-unbrushed-hair moments. That’s not going to happen, though, and Blaine more than proves it.
“Since when do you wear a bikini?” he asks, giving me a weird, confused look.
I wrap my arms around myself. “Masie made me wear it.”
A pucker forms at his brow as his gaze sweeps up and down my body, not in a holy-hell-she-looks-sexy way, but in a what-is-this-strange-creature-before-me way. “You look … weird.”
“I know. That’s what I told Masie.” I pretend to be all chill, yet I’m wounded, like a unicorn horn to the heart. Yeah, okay, maybe I do have a weird sense of reality.
“I think she looks great,” Masie protests, whacking Blaine in the gut. “And you should, too.”
Blaine shoots her a dirty look. “I never said she didn’t look great. I just think it’s weird she’s wearing a bikini. I figured that’s your influence”—he steps back to eye her up and down—“since that’s pretty much all you wear.”
My stomach twinges. Is that a little bit of lust I detect in his eyes?
Masie smirks then does a little twirl. “I wear it because I look hot. What else should I wear?”
“Clothes.” He smirks. “You know, those pieces of fabric that cover up your—”
She swats him again, and he laughs, his eyes crinkling around the corners.
She shakes her head, but a trace of a smile touches her lips. “You’re such a perv.” Then she whirls around, drops my towel, skips toward the pool, and does a perfect swan dive into the water. When she resurfaces, her hair is dripping wet, water beads her skin, and the water makes her white bikini top kind of see-through. If it was anyone else, I’d tell them. But Masie won’t care. She’s never been ashamed of her body, flaunting it whenever she can. In a way, I sort of envy her, but not enough to flaunt my own body.
While she’s distracted, I pad over to my towel, scoop it up, and wrap it around me.
Blaine, whose gaze has been locked on Masie, finally looks at me again.
He frowns when he notices the towel secured around me. “Alexis, I didn’t mean anything by what I said.” He tensely massages the back of his neck. “You just took me by surprise; that’s all.” His eyes stray to Masie again.
My already cracked heart shatters even more. Since when has he been so interested in Masie? I mean, sure, she’s his type—blonde, curvy, and flirty—but he’s never showed any interest before.
I swallow the lump wedged in my throat, refusing to show any sort of hurt. See? It’s stuff like this why you have your wall.
“I was going to put the towel on before you said anything, but Masie stole it. Well, until I threatened to throw her shoes in the pool.”
He chuckles, focusing on me again. “You went right for her heart, huh?”
“Of course,” I reply, trying to smile. But he keeps looking at her, and it’s making me want to frown underneath rain clouds for weeks on end. “You know how I work. I don’t fuck around.”
He smashes his lips together, biting back a smile. “So, you’re saying you’re tough?”
I narrow my eyes at him, but it’s a playful move. “Are you challenging my toughness?”
“Not at all.” He’s on the verge of laughing.
“Fine, you want to see toughness? I’ll show you toughness.” Shaking my head, I reach out and pinch his arm.
He busts up laughing, hunching over. “Oh, my God, that was the daintiest pinch I’ve ever felt.”
“Hey, don’t you dare call me dainty.” I lunge for him, to do who knows what, but slam to a stop as the towel is yanked loose from my body.
Masie snickers from behind me. “Gotcha.”
“Dammit.” I spin around, moving too quickly, and trip over my feet.
I lose my balance, teetering toward the water, when an arm slips around my waist and pulls me back to a standing position. My heart thunders in my chest as I realize the muscular arm wrapped around my waist belongs to Blaine. His fingers are splayed across my bare waist as he tows me against him, my back lined with his chest.
Mother of all that’s holy hell. There goes the butterflies and fireworks and bunnies having a disco party.
“You okay there, clumsy girl?” Humor dances in Blaine’s tone.
I pretend to grimace, but deep down, I’m still hanging out in lust land.
“Do not start with that nickname again. You promised you’d stop calling me that. I’m not even clumsy.”
With another chuckle, Blaine dips his
lips toward my ear and pulls me closer. “No, I’m pretty sure you demanded I stop calling you that. But I never agreed to it, and I never will. You’ll always be my clumsy girl. Even this I’m-too-tough-for-everyone version of you.” His warm breath dusts across my skin, and it takes every ounce of my strength not to shudder.
Masie grins in front of me, still holding my towel. “Aw, aren’t you two adorable?” Then she holds up her hand and pretends to take a photo. “Dammit, I really wish I had my camera right now.”
I glare at her, while Blaine simply laughs, holding me for a beat longer before releasing me.
“You know what I think?” he asks, stepping up beside me, his eyes glimmering mischievously.
I shake my head and inch away from him. “With that look in your eyes, I’m sure I don’t want to.”
A devilish grin spreads across his face as he winks at me then lunges for Masie. She squeals as he picks her up by the waist and tosses her into the pool. Water splashes everywhere, drenching both Blaine and me.
I gasp from the coldness and step back from the edge of the pool.
“Oh no, you don’t,” Blaine says, coming at me.
“Don’t you dare,” I warn, pointing a finger at him as I continue to back away. “You know I hate getting in water.”
He’s still grinning like the evil devil himself. “Which makes this much more fun.”
He steps toward me.
I step back.
Grinning, he rushes at me.
I may be tough, but with him, I don’t even stand a chance. Still, I whirl around and run toward the house.
Two steps in, he wraps his arms around my waist. But unlike Masie, I’m not going down without a fight.
Writhing my body, I kick and try to wiggle free. My skin is still wet from Masie’s splash, and his hands nearly slip off me, but he manages to hold me tightly, carrying me over to the pool and tossing me into the air.
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