Stolen Kisses

by Addison Moore

  “Ava.” His brows hike as that perennial sadness washes over him again. He tries to take me by the hand, but in an instant, both Lucky and Harper are swimming between us.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Lucky whispers, but my feet don’t seem to work anymore.

  “That was crazy!” a blonde flurry screams as she lunges her body against his. “You were Superman out there!” Her arms remain locked around his neck, and now it’s her on her tiptoes, her mouth right next to his. Dear God. It’s her. The girl from the stands. The one who eyed me like a predator after I cheered him on. And now I know why. She was pissed. But Grant doesn’t take those tired eyes off me. “I’m so proud of you, babe.” She plants a wet one right over his mouth, and this time he takes it, doesn’t give her the offensive and make her taste the sweaty slick running down the side of his face like he did me.

  “Yeah”—Harper threads her arm in mine—“we’d better go. Like now.”

  “So, who’s this?” The blonde follows his gaze straight to me, and suddenly I want to reprise Rush’s digital gesture—only this time it won’t be so friendly.

  Grant swallows hard, stepping forward with the octopus who’s suddenly suctioned herself onto him. “This is Ava.” His cheek flinches where I kissed him as if it were a slap. And in hindsight I wish it were. “That’s Lucky and Harper. They hang out on The Row. Ava’s just my little sister.”

  Just.

  He’s reduced the two of us to something akin to siblings. We might be, but his words sear over me far more potent than a simple slap ever could. A heaviness spreads through my chest, running down my limbs as if I were suddenly lined with lead. Something about that brief descriptor cuts right through to my soul—as if the words morphed into a fist and jammed its way down my throat on its way to ripping out my beating heart.

  “I’m Darcy.” The blonde steps in and extends her well-manicured tentacles. She’s pretty. An obvious beauty with her tiny nose and delicate features, lips so small you can hardly see them. Maybe they’re still in Grant’s mouth? God knows she lingered there long enough. But that look in her eyes—it’s saying something to me. It’s saying I own this boy. Back off, bitch.

  “It’s been real.” Lucky whisks me out of the gym and across the lawn before I can even think to shake her hand.

  Harper pulls me in close by the arm. “Who the hell is she?”

  “Grant’s girlfriend.” The words swim numbly from my lips.

  “I didn’t think he had one.” Lucky jams her foot into the gap of the closing elevator doors before shoving us inside.

  “I didn’t either.”

  Grant sends a few texts later that night. Nothing but small talk—a brother talking his little sister out of a tantrum.

  I turn my phone off and try to drown myself in sleep, but sleep never comes. I just keep seeing her eyes.

  I think what they were really saying was stay the hell away.

  Halloween night has always been the pinnacle of fall for me. When I was a little girl, my mother would pay to have elaborate costumes crafted just for me, none of this off-the-rack vinyl, polyester crap. It was designer all the way, nothing short of couture. One year I was Queen Elizabeth, red wig, powder white skin, and eerie blood-let for a smile. Another year—Minnie Mouse. You could have parked me in the Magic Kingdom, and there would have been a line a mile deep to have their pictures taken with me. My costumes were always meticulous right down to the least important detail, and now as I inspect myself in the mirror, it’s obvious that every detail of this policewoman mockery is the least important.

  Short vinyl micro mini? Check. Blue polyester blouse with the breakaway buttons bursting at the bosom? Double D check. Shiny silver badge and working cuffs? Well, let’s face it. Those bits of precious metal are the pièce de résistance of this ridiculous ensemble. I scowl down at the trinkets of kink as if they were Darcy the Ditz—not that I know Darcy well enough to call her one, but hey, cheap words and an even cheaper costume are all I have to work with tonight.

  I glance over at my phone, and my stomach turns to stone. Grant was nice enough to text me several times since the basketball mishap. And I was rude enough to ignore each and every text. Actually, there wasn’t a single hint of malice to my avoidance of those digital messages. I blame it on the fact my heart detonated in me the other night and left me without a single word to say—kind or otherwise.

  I snatch my phone off the dresser and spin around so Lucky can’t see me. She’s about had it with my insistence to meditate over his words as if they were scripture.

  Headed to Hallowed Grounds in ten minutes. Meet for coffee?

  And another. Guess you couldn’t make it. Need any help with your papers? I’ve got all night for you. Shoot one my way. I’m running a special. All A’s half off! ;)

  And the one that gutted me on a primal level. Headed to Jepson to show Darc around. Come with. It won’t be the same without you. I’d love for you to get to know her. I’ve told her so much about you, she says she feels like she knows you already. Missing my little sister. Let’s do this. K?

  “Let’s do this!” Lucky bumps my hip with her full pastel tutu, and I can’t help but laugh at the irony as I toss my phone back onto the dresser.

  “You sure you’re gunning for a fairy?” I give her wings a slight adjustment. Although, on her a pair of crooked wings speaks volumes. Lucky has her hair loaded with enough glitter to qualify as a disco ball, and those plastic shoes give off both a glass slipper vibe and a streetwalker special. “You look more like a three-year-old dance diva ready to rock the recital.”

  “That explains why my inner three-year-old is pretty darn happy right about now.” She douses her cheeks with another few strokes of blush. “You know what they say—had a crappy childhood? Make up for it today!”

  “Nobody says that. That doesn’t even make sense.” Harper walks in looking every bit the sex goddess she is. Her honeyed skin is smoothed and perfect, her lips filled in a rosy red that glows against her complexion. There’s not a boy in that frat house who won’t notice Harper’s perfection, including Grant. A part of me is thrilled by this. I’d rather Grant notice anyone but his blonde bombshell of an ex-girlfriend who happened to pick a lousy weekend to drop into town. As much as I’m hoping she’ll hop on her broomstick and fly back to Virginia, I’m pretty sure I’ll be seeing her tonight.

  “I’m probably not going to stay late,” I announce as we make our way into the cool night air. That thicket of dark clouds hovering over the school has yet to make good on its stormy promise. A part of me wants to bring an umbrella, and another far more wounded part of me wants to drown in the rain. We decide to hoof it tonight because parking on The Row is miserable—and on Halloween? Forget it.

  “There’s no way I’m letting you leave early.” Lucky hops by my side like the aforementioned three-year-old she’s quickly morphing into. “Who cares about his ex? Trust me, you don’t want any guy who’s still harboring feelings for someone else. I say good riddance. Besides, if the two of you got any closer, it would have led to disaster. I say we pen that girl a thank you. It’s time to move on and move up.”

  “Seems we have a rather opinionated fairy on our hands.” I glance to Harper to see what my sexed-up gypsy friend has to say about this. “Thoughts, please.”

  Harper tugs on that rosy lower lip of hers with those glowing teeth. Everything about Harper glows, and for some reason, I choose to believe if I had an ounce of her supernatural beauty, Grant wouldn’t be entertaining his ex for the weekend. But then, I’d hate to think a guy was with me just because of the way I look.

  “I don’t know.” Harper wraps her arm around me and pulls me close as we walk with a steady clip. “Some guys just like their exes. I mean, Grant’s a pretty friendly guy. Did you ever think maybe they were just friends?”

  “He mentioned that a while back, but you know how that goes. One long separation, plus one long-awaited reunion equals spontaneous combustion.”

  Lucky laugh
s so loud half the people around us stop to gawk to see if she’s tweaked.

  “You wish,” she sputters as she quiets down. “Ava, I’ve seen the way that boy looks at you. If he’s about to spontaneously combust with anyone, it’s with this officer of the law right here.” She gives the badge I’ve pinned to my heart a tug. “Face it, that boy has it bad for you. I still can’t figure out why he’d take you on as his little sister—unless, of course, it was all a ploy to get near you. The two of you have been inseparable, with the exception of the last few days.”

  I glance up at the Beta Kappa Phi house covered with overgrown plastic spiders, the girls draped all over the property in every jewel tone known to man in their slutty little costumes, the guys in their traditional frat boy garb with the exception of a few errant masks. But none of that has the power to hold my attention. My eyes zip right past the dizzying noise, the outright horrific elation a holiday like this demands, and I zero in on two people in particular, a couple huddled in the corner, heads knitted together as they come to some sort of agreement—most likely about their wedding day.

  Grant and Darcy stand arched over one another as if working out the details of their reunion. I’m sure long distance couples have a long list of rules to abide by. I’m pretty sure Darcy has included a no little sister clause in there somewhere by now. I’ve got a feeling that she’s cleaning house, and I’ll be the first to go.

  Harper gives me a mean squeeze as we come upon the frat house. “There’s no doubt that boy is having some serious withdrawals.”

  “That may be so, but it’s not me he’s craving a hit off.”

  A scraggly looking werewolf jumps in front of us and sends us shrieking. Rush plucks off his mask and howls for effect.

  “Girls!” Lawson shows up by his side, holding out his arms as if to escort us inside, and both Lucky and Harper latch on to him. Lucky gives me a quick wink from over the shoulder.

  “You can have the werewolf. Something tells me you’re about to have one wild night.”

  “Right,” I say lackluster just as Rush picks me up and runs across the sandy pit with me. A shrieking laugh escapes me as he carts me around, bumping and gyrating all the way around the frat house. My body flexes over his shoulder, and my hands flail in the night air as I scream. But Rush just runs faster, holding on to my knees for dear life, or at least he’d better be.

  The music turns up in volume, and Rush starts in on a side-to-side rhythm that has my dinner begging to show up to the party, and God only knows why this makes me laugh ten times harder. Tears rain from me as I pound my hands over his back, then lower still over that rock-hard stubborn ass of his.

  “Enough!” I finally cry.

  “Say uncle!” He gives his shoulder a pump, sending me into the sky.

  “Uncle!”

  “Say Uncle Rush is my favorite!”

  “Uncle Rush is my favorite!”

  A crowd of onlookers hoots and howls with approval. I’ve always known Rush was a crowd pleaser, but I never figured I’d become a human bullhorn in an effort to prove this.

  “Say I love Uncle Rush! Uncle Rush is the best!” He gives a little tickle to the backside of my knees.

  “I love Uncle Rush! Uncle Rush is the best! And I’m going to kill Uncle Rush and sacrifice his balls to a pile of dead goats if he doesn’t put me down right this minute!”

  In one fell swoop, I’m landed back on my feet, wobbling like a drunk until Rush wraps me in his arms and stabilizes me.

  “You’re a good sport, kid.” He drops a kiss to the top of my head, and just as I’m about to say something to contest exactly what a good sport I may or may not be, my eye snags back on that familiar couple, Grant with his glaring disapproval and Darcy with her unimaginable glee.

  “Thanks.” I offer Rush a high five, and we head into the party together with our arms wrapped around one another’s waists.

  Lucky is right.

  I’m about to have one wild night.

  Grant

  Looks as if I’m about to have one crap night.

  “That was insane.” Darcy leans in so close that for a second I’m convinced she’s going in for the kill. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to head to the little girl’s room.”

  She traipses up the stairs in her starchy nurse’s uniform, and I exhale for the first time in days. I’ve never been opposed to the occasional big surprise. Those were, in fact, the very words she used in her text just an hour before she showed up at the gym and caught me off guard during practice. I had no idea she’d be back in town. I had no idea that she had a mid-semester break that spanned an entire week, and that it would somehow involve me, and inadvertently Ava.

  Ava. My heart breaks just thinking about her. I wouldn’t have minded that simple kiss at the game, but something about crossing that line with her, combined with having Darcy there as an unwanted audience landed that kneejerk reaction in me, and it’s been a pile of shit ever since.

  I get it. Ava is pissed. Worse than that, she’s hurt.

  Hell, I don’t know. Maybe she thinks Darcy and I are back together and doesn’t want to get in the way? I knew she had a schoolgirl crush on me. Every part of me wants to admit I feel the same, but a part of me knows that I need this time. How am I supposed to find myself, sew up those gaping wounds that Steph left in her wake if I keep running from girl to girl?

  I head into the haunted frat house, and the jet engine level of music, the mindboggling crowd of people sets my skin on fire.

  I don’t know why I’m fighting it. This is exactly what it feels like inside my head, twenty-four seven.

  I spot Lawson and Rush laughing it up near the refreshment table. A pot with dry ice seeps its icy fingers out over the vicinity and makes this entire night feel like a mindfuck.

  Ava jumps up beside Rush, giving his ear a little tug, and something about that flirtatious gesture makes me want to vomit my intestines onto the floor. That little display out front earlier made me see red—made me certain that at some point in the evening I would be forced to kick Rush’s preppy little ass.

  “Here you are!” Darcy screams into my ear at the top of her lungs. She has a beer in one hand, me in the other, and I’m quick to evade the move.

  Darcy tilts her head at me knowingly. “This is for you.” She shoves the bottle into my hand, and I knock back half of it without coming up for air, feeling the burn all the way down and accepting it. There’s something honest about pain, the way it lacerates you with its bitter sting.

  When my sister died, death’s sting lingered for so many damn years. I can still feel it. Sometimes, I think I want to. Without the pain, the anger might go away, and without the anger, everything might somehow feel okay—as if losing Stephanie were just one of those things. That will never happen. I glance back over at Rush with his arms swimming all over Ava, his meat hooks coming daringly close to the girls blossoming out of her shirt. A part of me wants to go over and tell him to stay the fuck off my little sister, but something tells me I’ve lost that privilege. Ava isn’t up to playing our little sibling games these days—not sure I am either.

  Ava’s hair catches the light with a reddish tint, and I’m mesmerized as I take another hit off my beer. Darcy plucks the bottle right out of my mouth.

  “Maybe alcohol isn’t the way to go tonight.” She sways her body to the music until she’s landed in front of me, effectively blocking Rush and Ava from view. “How about we take off? We can have our own party. Maybe we can go trick-or-treating?” Her eyes expand with a desperation I haven’t seen in her before.

  “No.” The old me would have apologized for my lack of enthusiasm, for letting her think for a minute that this impromptu visit wasn’t a good idea, but for some reason, the old me has been put on a shelf.

  The day Ava came crashing into my world was like a breath of fresh air was blown into me. I became a new creation, a better version of who I could ever hope to be. And now, watching Rush all but tackle her, I’m not sure what I’v
e morphed into. One thing is for sure—I’m boiling with rage.

  “What are you looking at?” Darcy tries to follow my gaze, but a sea of people drifts by, blocking her view.

  “I’d say nothing, but that’d just be another lie,” I whisper.

  “I’m going to get myself something to wet my tongue!” she shouts up over the music. “You want anything else? Another one?” she mouths while pointing to my beer.

  “No.” I put the bottle down as soon as Darcy disappears out of sight. I thread my way through the crowd, over to the other side of the room, my adrenaline pumping louder and faster than the music with every step.

  Ava’s hips grind smoothly to the music, that short skirt of hers rising up with every move. She has a pair of fishnets on, high heels that show off those long stems of hers. But it’s her face that lights up the room, that one million kilowatt smile ignites the commons area like an entire solar system worth of stars.

  Lawson is the first to greet me. Scratch that—only one to greet me. Both of Ava’s friends sneer at the sight of me, but I’m not too concerned with what they might be thinking. I know I never set out to upset Ava. I would die before I did that.

  Lawson slaps me over the back. “What’s up, man? Where’s your girlfriend?”

  Shit.

  Ava glances over with a slight smirk of her own before refocusing her attention back on Rush. And damn it all if he isn’t lapping it up like a puppy about to get scratched in his favorite spot.

  “She’s not my girlfriend,” I growl so low I doubt he heard, don’t really care if he did. Then it knifes me. If Lawson thinks that’s the way things are, then everyone must assume the same, including Ava.

  The music switches gears to something slower, and the room explodes with a collective sigh as the girls begin to sway in unison. Ava bites down on that poppy red lip of hers and tosses her arms around Rush’s neck the way she did mine in the gym that day.