Stolen Kisses

by Addison Moore

  I pull Ava into my arms, cradling her, just listening to the sound of her breathing as she traces out my features with her finger.

  “You belong to me, Grant. To me and me alone.” Her lips make a home over mine once again as we mark our territory in the most primal way possible with our mouths, our roaming hands.

  I belong to Ava, and she belongs to me.

  And here I feared that staying in Hollow Brook—heading to Whitney Briggs—would pan out to be one of the biggest mistakes of my life.

  It’s not. It’s the best damn decision I have ever made. Ava and I belong together. I think the universe understands that. A part of me wants to believe that Stephanie had a hand in leading Ava to my table that day, seating me in the exact place I needed to be.

  Yes, someone is looking out for me all right.

  Thank you, Steph.

  Thank you for leading me to Ava.

  Shot to the Heart

  Ava

  All weekend, Grant and I plot and plan our upcoming romantic tryst. It’s going to be perfect. Grant and I are going to have sex—wait, no, that’s not right. What we share is something deeper. We’re going to make love. I sneer into my coffee at the thought. Old people make love. Making love is the equivalent of smelly arthritis cream and walkers. We’re far from old. We’re millennials. We’re going to fuck. Yes, most certainly some serious fucking is about to commence because my body has been aching for that boy ever since day one. I wrinkle my nose a moment. Deep down, I know that descriptor was way too vulgar for what’s about to take place between Grant and me. But I’m not with Grant at the moment. I’m with Harper down at Hallowed Grounds waiting for Lucky to join us.

  “You sure you’re okay?” Harper asks for the hundredth time. “You look kind of green and sort of like you’re blushing all at the same time.”

  Lucky plops between us, her expensive perfume rising like a floral plume. “She’s about to get laid—which would explain her need to vomit and blush at the very same time.”

  I swat her. She might be accurate, but her need to be heard could cost me my weekend. God knows this place is crawling with ears just itching to get some dirt on me and my vagina.

  “I’m not about to vomit,” I’m quick to correct. “That’s disgusting. I’m just”—words fail to describe how I’m feeling—“wishing I had someone experienced to talk to, that’s all. And the two of you are letting me down at the moment.”

  Harper’s mouth falls open, dumbfounded. “You and Grant?”

  “No, Professor Dividovich and me. Yes, Grant and me.” I glance to Lucky and knock my knee into hers. “You two are keeping this really low-key, got it? If word gets back to Owen, Grant won’t be the only one fearing my brother.”

  “I’m not talking.” Lucky says it so fast you’d think the shoe were on the other foot.

  Harper doesn’t bother to hide the fact she’s staring me down. “You sure this is the guy? You’re about to give him a pretty huge gift. It’s a one-time deal. Once you turn in that V-card, it’s impossible to get it back, and don’t believe all that surgical crap they throw at you on TV. You will not be able to snip and tuck your way back to your virginity.”

  Lucky grunts, “First, eww, and second, I’m giving mine away to a far less worthy cause when the time comes. What Grant and Ava have is the real deal. I’ve never seen two people swoon so hard and actually mean it.”

  Lucky is gearing up to be quite the WB lap bunny. She can hardly wait to put her tramp stamp on any and every boy she pleases. For as many things Lucky and I have in common, setting my goals on becoming a ho-bag isn’t one of them. Although, thankfully, she’s yet to initiate Operation Sink My Teeth into the Male Population at Large. There’s still hope for me to talk her out of it before her trollop days ever begin.

  “It’s true,” I sing. “I’m swooning hard. I can’t wait actually. Grant”—I stop shy of using his surname because, well, I can’t recall ever hearing it—“what’s Grant’s last name?” I scowl at the two of them before they can laugh, but it doesn’t stop them.

  “Jones.” Harper rolls her eyes so far back she looks like a slot machine. “It’s Grant Jones you’re about to lose you virginity to.”

  “Shhh!” I lean in so hard, I practically knock over all of our drinks.

  Grant Jones. My stomach flinches when I hear his full name, and for the life of me I can’t figure out why. Most likely because my two best friends have decided to morph into megaphones and announce my steamy weekend plans to everyone in the tiny café. I’m lucky Piper isn’t in here. God knows that would go over well. I’d just love to see Miss I’m-Not-Here-To-Spill-Your-Secrets keep this little vaginal nugget from my brother.

  “Yes, Grant Jones and I have quite the special plans this weekend. I’m meeting his parents first, so there goes awkward event number one.” Not that I think being with Grant in that way will be awkward but, well, based on the fact I have zero experience in that area it might—I’ve already accepted the fact I’ll embarrass myself. How I wish I could get ahold of Aubree, but then I can’t chance her finally growing some morals and ratting me out to my brother. Nope. I’m willing to risk a blunder or two than have the entire event nixed right off my calendar. “So, what’s new with you two? You’re both going home on Wednesday, right?”

  Lucky nods. “Daisy is whipping up some disaster in the kitchen, and Jet wants me to pitch in. And just like a man, he’ll probably be glued to a football game.”

  Harper shudders as if the idea offended her just as much. “I can’t wait to get home and see my sister. Okay, so that was a tiny lie. I really am excited about seeing Harley, but Justin is back in town!” She squeals so loud, I’m half-afraid she’s just inhaled her straw. “I promised myself I wouldn’t get all giddy like some sick schoolgirl, but who am I kidding? Justin is back!” She growls it out as if Justin were a rock star and she was about to have a meet-and-greet after the big concert. “His school gives him the entire week off, so I was thinking of taking off right after poly sci on Tuesday.” Stars light up in her eyes as she wanders emotionally to that spastic place Justin seems to have the power to sweep her off to.

  “Yay Justin.” Lucky gives the lackluster cheer without hiding the disgust on her face. I think at this point neither Lucky nor I are fans of the aforementioned quasi-rock star. Anyone who toys with our good friend whenever he feels like it can’t be a great guy. I’ve seen her elated and equally as devastated—most of the time on the very same day. This guy is bad medicine, and Harper needs a cure for his sorry ass, stat.

  We finish up our coffee and head out into the frozen tundra that’s taking over our universe. It hasn’t quite snowed yet, but Jack Frost is breathing down our necks, threatening to make good on every icy promise.

  Daisy comes up from around the corner and offers a cheery wave.

  Lucky dives into the stairwell at the sight of her, and I don’t even bother reprimanding the girl because I would love some serious one-on-one time with my substitute big sister.

  “I’ll see you later, Harp.” I bump her hip as we go our separate ways. “Hey, Daisy!” I give her a quick hug and pull her under the awning in front of Cutler Tower. “Do you have a sec?”

  “For you, I have a week.” She offers a flirtatious wink as we head into the commons area and find a seat near the fire. “What’s up, butternut? Get it? Butternut squash? Oh never mind, I’ve got a grocery list on my mind the size of a phonebook. Tell me something good to get my mind off the dinner I’m about to burn come Thursday.”

  A warm laugh trembles from me. Here it is, my moment to glean a bit of knowledge before Grant and I take that next step in our relationship.

  “Okay, I really want to share something, but I absolutely need you to promise that what I’m about to say stays right here. Neither Jet nor Owen can know about this.” I mouth the word sorry. “But we both know Jet pretty much equals my brother.”

  Daisy’s light demeanor quickly dissolves, and she sobers up before offering a nod of agre
ement. “It stays right here.” She kisses the tips of her fingers before saluting me.

  And I spill it. I pour all of my carnal intentions at Daisy Pembrooke’s Jimmy Choo adorned feet and hold my breath as she processes it all.

  “Oh my word.” She blinks back, surprised. “Oh my word,” she repeats before pressing her hand to her chest. “Oh, honey.” Tears come to her eyes as she fans herself with her fingers. “I guess you could say you caught me off guard. Didn’t you and this boy just meet?” Daisy looks genuinely startled. “I mean—um—perhaps you should wait until, I don’t know, after the new year? Valentine’s Day!” She shouts that last part out so fast and loud you would think we were in the middle of a guessing game.

  “Valentine’s Day is more than three full months away. An entire eternity according to my hormones.” I add that last bit for levity, but Daisy seems far too weighed down by what I just shared. Crap. Immediate regret sets in, and now I wish that time came with a rewind button.

  “I know. It is kind of far.” She winces. “I’m sorry.” Her eyes flit to the windows as if she’s expecting someone—afraid someone might pop in and hear. Daisy lets out a giant sigh and sags into a puddle. “I know you think you’ve found the one.” She shakes her head, looking right at me. “But do you really know this boy, Ava?”

  “Of course, I know him.” Now it’s me blinking back with surprise. “Why does it suddenly feel like you’re judging me?”

  “I’m not judging you. I promise.” She shakes her head so fast you can feel the breeze she’s stirring up in an effort to convince me. “I swear, I only want to spare you any heartache.”

  “Heartache?” I rise to leave. Clearly this isn’t going in the sisterly direction I was hoping.

  “Yes.” She pulls me back down. “And I don’t want you to”—you can practically see her racking her brains for what comes next—“get a reputation. You know how those frat boys can be.”

  “No, I don’t.” I yank my wrist free from her grasp. “Look, I’m sorry I ever said anything. I really thought you’d be a little more supportive.”

  “I am supportive!” Her eyes bulge like eggs, and she looks anything but what she professes to be. “I’m telling you. Please reconsider. I’d hate for people to think you’re easy just because you fall into bed with the first frat boy you meet.”

  My jaw unhinges at her unnecessary barb. “Is that what they said about you?” I couldn’t help it. It just came out. My rage boiled over, and now my hurtful words linger between us. I know all about Daisy’s pole dancing days, her stint with the Senator—everybody does.

  Her cheeks slap a crisp shade of apple red, and not one part of me regrets my remark.

  “Just do me a favor and don’t say anything. I’d appreciate that.” I turn to leave as she shuffles beside me.

  “Don’t do this, Ava.” There’s something dire in her eyes as if signaling for danger. “Ask him questions—dig a little deeper.”

  “I’ll talk to you later,” I say as I make a dash for it. Technically, I won’t be talking to her later, more like avoiding her later.

  “Wait, for God’s sake, before you make a mistake you’ll regret for the rest of your life!” she shouts like a madwoman.

  What the hell has gotten into her?

  The elevator yawns open, and I don’t hesitate jumping in. I jam my thumb against the button until the doors entomb me in its petrified silence.

  A chill runs up my spine. That was not the Daisy Pembrooke I know and love. That was not at all the girl I’ve been confiding in for weeks.

  What the heck just happened?

  By the time Wednesday afternoon rolls around, Whitney Briggs is already feeling the holiday effects of its dwindling student population. Harper took off an hour ago. Lucky went straight to the grocery store after her last class and is texting me hilarious shots of her Costco adventure. Every picture has a warzone appeal, from the apocalyptic sea of cars in the parking lot to the disorderly chaos that mimics food lines circa 1925.

  My phone pulses in my hand once again, only it’s not Lucky amidst her turkey trot. It’s my boyfriend, Grant. Just the thought of having Grant as my anything expels a sigh from the deepest part of my soul.

  You up for dinner? 7:00 okay?

  Dinner! PB and Js at Hallowed Grounds?

  He texts right back. I was thinking steak at the Black Bear.

  I laugh out loud at the prospect. Wow, someone is feeling daring. I thought you were allergic to that place.

  Grant waits a moment before responding. Just a few of the regulars. Rumor has it everyone has dropped off the side of the planet, so I’m good to go.

  Cool. I guess we’re going bovine. I need to say goodbye to my brother first, but I’ll meet you there at 7!

  I head back to my dorm and get dressed to impress my favorite WB basketball player. All of my shoes are way too casual, so I riffle through Lucky’s selection. She’s an eight to my seven and a half, so thankfully her shoes are as good as mine. I pull on a pair of brown sable boots with gold buckles over the ankles. They pair nicely with my navy wool pleated miniskirt and off white cashmere sweater. I ended up going a little crazy at the mall with Lucky the other night. In an effort to get the right outfit to impress Grant’s parents tomorrow night, I may have accidentally purchased an entire wardrobe.

  Thankfully, Owen didn’t bat a lash when I asked if I could borrow some cash. Owen has been far too generous with me ever since I’ve landed at Briggs. My parents have decided to pay for school and books—which is a blessing since they denied my brother that privilege. But after learning Owen was stripping to earn his way through school, they didn’t want to inadvertently sponsor my pole hugging days so they anted up at the registration office.

  Nevertheless, my current outfit screams sexy coed far more than it does meet-the-parents, so tonight is the perfect night to showcase my rather expensive soft side. I pet my sleeves before pulling on a pea coat and heading out the door.

  A blast of night air hits me as subtle as a frozen brick wall. Just a few more degrees, plus one good storm, and we’ll be looking at a white winter before we know it.

  I can just picture Grant and me curled up by the fire at Beta house. Too bad there’s no real privacy in the commons room. Maybe we should head off to Lake Avalanche and rent a cabin? Not that I could even remotely afford to rent a cabin, let alone buy a keychain with the picture of one on it. I’m pretty sure hitting Owen up for cash so I can have a coital exchange with my new boyfriend for the weekend would kill him as efficiently as an ax to the head. Nope. Owen isn’t ever going to find out about Grant if I can help it.

  Speaking of Owen, the Briggs Apartment Building comes up on me fast. At first the idea of having my brother live directly across the street from school made me feel safe and secure, and now the entire high-rise structure feels like a menacing shadow that hangs over my life. That’s the beauty of my relationship with Grant. I’m not Owen’s little sister—technically, I’m his little sister, which still manages to bring a sick smile to my face. And for sure I’m not Aubree’s little sister—the killer’s sister. I abhor that title. I realize my sister did actually cause someone to lose their life and almost took the life of another, but deep down, she’s still my sister and as much as it’s impossible to explain to someone, I can’t see her as a killer. She’s very sick. She needs help. I’ll never forget how rabid people were when she was first convicted. It felt as though the entire world wanted to snuff the life out of my entire family.

  If my parents did one thing right it was shelter me, and for the most part Owen, from that whole terrible period in our lives. I was kept on a need-to-know-basis, and believe me, that was far more than enough. I wish I didn’t know any of it. I wish none of it were true.

  I take the elevator up and give Owen’s door a brisk knock. Piper appears on the other side and offers an ultra giddy hug.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come to New York?” She tilts her head as if ready to scold me. Her dark hair i
s slicked straight, and her lips are painted a dark cherry. Piper really does clean up well. Okay, she’s drop-dead gorgeous in any shape or form, so in that respect I’m thrilled for my brother.

  “I’m good.”

  A couple of carry-on suitcases sit near the door with a baseball cap and an oversized Louis Vuitton tote bag slung over one of them. Owen comes out with his hair damp and slicked back, a WB sweatshirt on and a pair of jeans.

  “Here she is.” Owen inspects me head to toe, and his smile drips off. “You heading to Harper’s tonight?” His brows furrow, and I know that look. His radar is up. Historically, once Owen gets suspicious, I’m all but busted.

  “In the morning.” I offer up a quick hug, and a pang of sadness grips me with the lie. I’ve never been too keen on stretching the truth, and I’ve never outright lied to my brother before. But I have to keep reminding myself it’s for the better. It’s not like he’d let me go if he knew the truth, and this late in the game, it would only screw up his holiday, too.

  “Cool.” He pulls back and inspects me one more time, his eyes straying to the short hemline of my skirt. “Pull that thing down, would you? You’re going to get pneumonia.”

  Piper grunts as if he offended her instead. “Don’t listen to him.” She wraps an arm around him. “I’ve personally taken it upon myself to kick his big brother mode down a few notches.” She gives a sly wink. “Improvements might be slow, but, trust me, he’ll breathe easier once he sees there’s nothing to worry about.”

  “You’re doing that for me?” Something in me loosens at the thought of Piper advocating for my right to exist outside my brother’s shadow.

  She nods. “For you and for Owen. Right now, he’s shaving at least ten years off the backend of his life with all the worrying he’s doing.” She rolls her eyes at him. “Honestly, you’d think she was partying with drunken frat boys nightly the way you freak out every time she doesn’t respond to one of your texts in a five second window.”