Signed with a Kiss: (Signed with a Kiss, #1)

by Sorensen, Jessica

  He crooks a brow. “Really? Because you seemed pissed off at the time.”

  I sigh. “Yeah, I know. And I’m sorry I was. I just get that way sometimes. Besides, I think part of why I reacted that way is because there’s always sort of been this challenge thing going on between us.”

  “What do you mean?” he asks too innocently.

  I give him an unimpressed look. “I think you know what I mean.”

  “Okay, maybe I do.”

  “Then why pretend you don’t?”

  He shrugs. “Because I don’t want it to exist anymore.” He shrugs again, seeming confused and kind of vulnerable. “When I first met you, it was pretty clear you weren’t a fan of mine, so I played it off by teasing you.”

  Really? That’s what this little thing between us has been about?

  “It’s not that I didn’t not like you. You just know how to push my buttons.”

  His brow curves upward. “Really? Because sometimes it seems like you hate me.”

  I blow out a breath, unsure of what to say to that. “Look, I know we tease each other and everything, but I’ve never thought: Hey, I hate West. In fact, I’ve always thought you were kind of funny, even when I’m the butt of your jokes.”

  “You’ve never been the butt of my jokes. And I’m sorry if I made you feel that way.” He nibbles on his lip undecidedly. I can tell the moment he arrives at a decision, because he smirks. “I’ve always thought of our little bantering as flirting.”

  “Yeah right.”

  He gives me a dubious look. “Deep down, I know you think the same thing.”

  I glare at him. “I so do not.”

  He smirks. “Sure, you don’t.”

  “I do not and stop saying that.”

  “What? Stop saying the truth? That just seems silly.” A wicked glint flickers in his eyes. “Besides, back at the park, I could tell you liked me biting your neck.”

  “No, I didn’t.” And it’s not a total lie. Not that I hated it … I just … “Dude, you’re about to get your ass kicked.”

  He grins. “Aw, please don’t tease me.”

  “I’m not joking.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  His indifference drags the fire out of me, something I haven’t felt in a long time.

  “The neck biting thing was the most unpleasant experience I’ve ever had,” I say. “And I’m going to show you.” I lean over, put my mouth beside his neck, part my lips, and then sink my teeth into him. I don’t bite hard enough to draw blood, but he’s definitely going to have some teeth marks on his skin. Then I move back and smirk. “See?”

  He doesn’t respond, just pulls the car over and turns off the engine.

  “What’re you …?” I trail off as he leans over and puts his mouth on my neck, gently grazing his teeth along my skin as he sucks and nips and bites. I can feel the cold metal of his tongue ring against my skin, and I gasp, clutching on to him, goosebumps sprouting across my flesh …

  “You’re so ugly. You should be glad I’m even touching you at all,” he whispers as he grabs my breast—

  I jerk back, panting, my mind racing so swiftly that I can barely process where I am and I can barely get air into my lungs as painful memories sear at my brain.

  West whispers something incoherent before he pulls away with his lips pressed together. “Sorry,” he mumbles, seeming unsure of himself and unlike the West I know.

  You’re so ugly. No one wants you.

  I let out a shaky exhale. “It’s fine. I just … I’m so confused … I just don’t understand why you did that. I mean, it’s not like you’re attracted to me. And we aren’t … I mean …” I trail off, realizing I’m rambling.

  Calm down.

  Breathe in.

  Breathe out.

  Now shove it down.

  A strange look crosses West’s face and, for a moment, I worry he can see behind my mask. But then he says, “You do realize me and almost every guy that goes to our school thinks you’re hot, right?”

  I shake my head. “That’s not true, and I know it isn’t.”

  He frowns. “Lex, whatever happened freshman and sophomore year with those guys, they were just dumbasses who wanted to mess with your head for blowing them off. The shit they said wasn’t true.”

  I look away, hearing Jay and his friends’ words echoing in my head and feeling the stuff they did to me. Feeling the day Jay touched me without my permission.

  Of course West can say what he’s saying. All he knows about what happened is from the little Masie once told him and Blaine, despite my protests. And that was basically that Jay and his friends were being jerks to me, which is all anyone really knows. No one needs knows about how much they teased me, the cornering in the hallways, the shit they wrote on my locker, the many times they told me to kill myself, that frightening moment on that bathroom floor when Jay put his hands on me …

  “Lex, look at me,” West says in the softest tone, and I almost do. But then his phone rings, and he answers it with a grumbled, “Hello?”

  When he doesn’t say anything else, I glance at him and find his eyes fixed on me.

  “Yeah … No, she’s here with me.” He gives a short pause. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want to talk to you, man.” Another pause. “No, I’m not going to tell you where we are.” He grows quiet, shaking his head, then snaps, “Look, if she wants to talk to you, she’ll call you, okay? I gotta go.” Then he hangs up.

  The reality of the day sweeps over me again. “Let me guess; that was Blaine?”

  He nods, uneasiness flooding his expression. “He wanted to talk to you.”

  “Oh.” I press my lips together.

  The idea of talking to Blaine ever again makes me want to break something. And what’s even worse is I know I’m eventually going to have to, even if I don’t want to. Honeyton is a really small town. Plus, we go to school together.

  “I figured you wouldn’t want to talk to him, but”—West searches my eyes and a crinkle forms between his brows—“maybe I’m wrong.” His lips sink into a frown. “If you do, you can call him. I’m sure he’d love that.” A drop of bitterness creeps into his tone, and he quickly clears his throat.

  I assess him closely. “Are you okay?”

  He dismisses me with a smile. “I’m always okay.”

  “West,” I start, but he drives forward. “Where are we going?”

  “I’m taking you home,” he tells me. “Then, tomorrow, if you still want to, I’ll pick you up and help you fix your car.”

  “Okay, that sounds good.”

  I sink into silence. West remains strangely quiet, too.

  I do best to remain calm for the rest of the drive home, letting that wall rebuild around me. I vowed a long time ago that I’d never let that wall come down, and I refuse to break that vow again.

  * * *

  Ten minutes later, West is pulling into my driveway. I unbuckle my seatbelt and climb out without uttering a word, ready to get the hell away from this awkward car ride. Well, most of it has been awkward. Not all of it, though. Honestly, West made me feel sort of better, which is weird to think about.

  “Lex,” West calls out as I’m about to shut the door.

  I pause then lower my head and glance into the cab. “Yeah?”

  He rests his arm on the console as he leans over it. “Can we …? Can we just forget that neck kissing thing happened?”

  Relief trickles through me. “Yeah, definitely.”

  He smiles in relief, but then hesitancy crosses his expression. “Do you … think we can try to be friends?”

  I almost say no, partly because of the whole neck kissing thing and partly because this is West and … well, it’s tough picturing us as friends. Plus, I’m really starting to suck at this whole friend thing. I had two left in this world and now they’re gone. And all that’s left is pain.

  Always so much pain.

  Usually I’m better at not feeling it and maybe that’s why I say what I s
ay next. Or perhaps I’m just tired. Whatever the reason, I find myself nodding despite my mind’s protests and warnings. “Yeah, okay. I guess we could try.”

  “Okay, cool.” He moves to sit back in his seat. “I’ll text you tomorrow when I’m ready to go work on your car. Hopefully, we can get it fixed in one day.”

  “Thanks.” I shut the door and head into my house.

  When I step inside, I slump back against the door, the painful emotions of today trying to surface again and crush me from the inside out.

  I’m not going to lose my shit here.

  I push away from the door and head for my room. Chatter floats from the kitchen. My brothers and sisters are probably in there, eating dinner together. A part of me longs to go in there with them, longs to be the girl who could sit down and eat a meal with her family. But that girl died the day her parents died.

  As my chest constricts, I spin around and slip back out the front door. Then I go out to the garage to grab my backpack filled with spray paint. I used to love to stain canvases with my soul, but I haven’t done that since my parents died. I have, however, found another alternative to express myself. One that I could get in trouble for if I got caught, but I just don’t care. All I care about is getting these stupid emotions out of me no matter what I have to do.

  Once I get my supplies, I leave the garage and hike down the sidewalk, heading toward the central part of town. Since I live in a subdivision that’s located a few miles out of town, it takes me a while to get to the area where most of the stores and shops are. By the time I arrive, I’m hot and getting sweaty, but I don’t give a shit. All I care about is doing this and getting it all out of me.

  I veer down the nearest alley. Then I drop my bag to the ground, take out a can of spray paint, and glance around to make sure no one is watching. Once I’m satisfied that I’m alone, I lift the can to the wall, which is the side of a store, and paint the bricks with my pain.

  Today, she learned the definition of betrayal.

  A thorn got lodged in her heart,

  But her heart was already woven with thorns

  So really, did the betrayal matter?

  Maybe one day she’ll find out.

  But maybe she won’t.

  Not everything has an answer.

  — Signed with a Kiss

  I always sign it the same way, but everything I spray onto the walls is different and are in random places across town. It’s really starting to annoy the townspeople, and the police are offering a reward for anyone who can bring in the person behind it. That should scare me enough to stop, but I can’t seem to make myself care.

  As I stand in the alley, looking up at the art I created that now stains this building, I feel my control coming back. I lower my head and my hands against the bricks hard enough that my palms split open.

  Air in.

  Air out.

  Just breathe.

  And that’s what I do. I keep breathing until every last ounce of pain leaves me and dissolves into the paint-saturated air. Then I walk away, feeling empty, just how I want to feel.

  But then I spot him.

  Jay and his friends, standing in the parking lot next door and passing around what looks a bottle of tequila. His face looks a bit sunburned, but other than that he looks put together. Nice clothes, styled brown hair, straight white teeth that glisten against the sunlight when he smiles. But it’s all a façade. A mask. Just like mine. Only his covers up darkness while mine covers up the brokenness festering inside me.

  He holds me down while running his hands all over my body, touching me in places no has before. I start to scream, but he slaps his hand over my mouth and forces me down against the tile floor.

  Then he keeps touching me while I try to fight, but I feel so beaten down from all the crying I was doing.

  Beaten down. Broken. Empty. Dead. Just like my parents.

  Oh my God, I can’t believe this is happening.

  I can’t do this.

  I can’t…

  Finally, he stops.

  “You’re welcome,” he says as he stands up, leaving me shaking on the floor.

  My shirt is ridden up and everywhere he touched me burns.

  But my eyes are empty with tears.

  Everything is empty.

  Everything is dead.

  “Jesus, you’re pathetic,” he mutters when I don’t get up. “Do you know how many girls would love to be in your position right now? Do you know how many girls wish I would touch them?

  I say nothing.

  I am nothing.

  I want to die.

  “Whatever,” he mumbles then leaves the bathroom.

  Only then to I push up and crawl over to the toilet where I throw up until nothing is left inside me.

  Nothing.

  “Yeah, you should definitely screw her,” Jay says as he hands one of his friends the bottle. “I did a few months ago. She’s a pretty good lay. Well, when she’s out of it. When she’s sober, she talks too much—”

  I whirl around and walk off in the other direction. My heart is racing inside my chest and my skin is crawling.

  I’m about to lose it.

  Take a deep breath, Alexis. Shut it down.

  Air in.

  Air out.

  Now put up that mask.

  Don’t feel a thing.

  My phone buzzes from inside my pocket and I move to answer it, seeking a distraction. But then I instantly frown as I see who the text is from.

  Masie: Oh my God! I know you’re mad at Blaine and me right now, but seriously, I didn’t think you’d do something this bad.

  What in the hell is she talking about?

  Me: I’ve done a lot of bad things, so you’re gonna have to be more specific.

  Masie: You had West punch Blaine! His face is so swollen! And he’s really upset about it!

  West punched Blaine? Why …? Huh …? What?

  Me: Hate to break it to you, but I didn’t tell West to do that. Guess you’re gonna have to find another way to try to guilt-trip me into forgiving you.

  Masie: This is so ridiculous. Why can’t you just talk to me? Blaine wants to talk to you, too. Please, just talk to us.

  I shake my head. While I don’t want to talk to Masie, I have even less desire to talk to Blaine. Just the idea of seeing him again … now that I know he’s aware that I feel that way about him …

  Dammit. I’m going to have to see him at school next week. I don’t want to. I don’t care if that makes me seem weak. Because if it’s one thing I hate more than feeling emotions, it’s people knowing about how I feel.

  I feel so exposed right now.

  And burning with anger. But anger can handle. Anger is so much better than pain.

  And that anger only builds when another text pings through.

  Figuring it’s Masie again, I open it, ready to reply with a text that might make me look like the biggest bitch ever. But it’s not from her. It’s from the unknown number.

  Unknown: Nope, I know I don’t have the wrong number, Alexis. I know who I’m texting, just like you know Blaine will never love you.

  Confusion and panic spin through me.

  Me: Then who the hell is this?

  They don’t answer right away and, for some reason, I feel like I’m being messed with.

  Or maybe the text message is from Masie. I mean, before today, I wouldn’t have thought she’d do something like this, but now …

  As my mind crams with thoughts and emotions, I stuff my phone into my pocket and walk away to go stain more walls with paint.

  To get back my brief moment of content.

  6

  West

  It’s bugging the hell out of me as I drive away from Alexis’s house—that sad, hurt look in her eyes … I can’t stand it. While I know I won’t be able to take her pain away, there is one thing I can do. Will it get me in trouble? Yep, probably. And if my dad finds out, he’ll beat my ass. But I’m used to that sort of crap—the anger my dad direct
s toward me. Deep down, I know he hates me. And I used to wonder why, why he hated me so much. But honestly, I don’t care anymore.

  I drive straight from Alexis’s to Blaine’s house. His truck is in the driveway, so I know he’s here. I send him a text before I hop out.

  Me: Meet me outside.

  As I’m hiking up the driveway, the front door is opened and Blaine walks out. I keep my cool pretty well until Masie steps out behind him.

  Mascara is smeared all over her face, and her eyes are swollen. Clearly, she’s been crying, but I don’t care. Masie is a stuck-up snob and a terrible friend to Alexis. She’s always trying to change her and is constantly pointing out her flaws. And now she’s hooked up with Blaine. Not that I’m surprised. They’re both perfect for each other. Plus, Masie always gets what she wants no matter who gets hurt. Trust me, I know firsthand about the damage Masie can do just to get what she wants.

  “You’re seriously with her right now?” I ask Blaine as I start up the porch.

  Blaine’s forehead creases as he glances from Masie to me. “Yeah … Why do you sound so upset about it?”

  I roll my tongue in my mouth, biting back my irritation. “Do you even care that you hurt Lex today?”

  “Why do you care about this so much?” Blaine asks with an arch of his brow.

  “Because Lex and I are friends.”

  “Since when?”

  I inch toward him, the boards creaking under my boots. “She’s just as much my friend as she is yours. Honestly, after this, she’s probably not your friend anymore.”

  His expression falters. “Look, I don’t know what she told you, but I didn’t lead her on or anything. I’ve always made it clear I just want to be friends with her.” He rubs his hand across his head, letting out a loud exhale. “Things just got so messed up.”

  “You think?” I say with a raise of my brows.

  He sighs. “Look, can you just talk to her for us? I know she’s not a fan of yours, but it seems like you’re the only one she’ll talk to right now, so …” He shrugs.

  I shake my head. “If you want to talk to her, do it yourself.”

  Masie steps forward and laces her fingers with Blaine’s. “West, please just tell her to talk to us. We know we messed up, but it’s not our faults that we like each other.”