Stolen Kisses

by Addison Moore

  Lucky lifts me out of my seat. “You’re drooling.”

  “It’s not a good look.” Harper doesn’t bother hiding her disappointment in me.

  “You’re right.” I take a deep breath as we head out with the crowd. “Maybe it’s time for me to drool someplace else.”

  Doubt it’s possible. And then I remember how much Grant hated it when I drooled over Rush—not that it was genuine—more like bad advice from Daisy.

  Or was it good advice? Grant kissed me in a heated craze after Rush put on the moves. Maybe this time I’ll put on the moves. Maybe this time I’m not gunning for a kiss.

  Maybe I just want Grant to feel as miserable as I do.

  Grant

  Heading to Beta house after a victory like that usually means a party is in order. Hell, a party is in order no matter what the outcome, but tonight, the last game for a few weeks, I know it’ll be big. Big is a good thing, especially when Darcy is headed back to the house with me—the more bodies to hide her presence with. In all honesty, I didn’t think I’d see Ava at the game. If I knew she would have been there, I would have never invited Darc. But she’s back in town and asked to hang out. I thought the game was platonic enough—enough in general, but she’s insistent to see the inside of my frat house again.

  “I would have never pegged you for a frat boy.” She marvels as we head into Beta. “The boy I knew was on the fast track to becoming a gaming geek, content to live out of his parents’ basement.”

  I can’t help but laugh as we move through the crowd already in the commons room to greet us. “I would have. You know me well.”

  “So, what’s with Grant 2.0?” She glances down to my crotch, and my discomfort level rises. “Is everything about you free and loose these days?” She stares me down as she waits for the answer.

  Darcy may not be the only girl I’ve slept with, but I was her first and her last. I’m not too surprised by her sense of entitlement when it comes to who I might be entertaining on my mattress.

  “Maybe,” I say, snatching a soda off the refreshment table and handing it to her. Anything to keep the conversation from progressing.

  “So—like maybe there’s a girl out there you’re interested in?” She searches the crowd as if she might spot someone, and I do the same, only my eyes snag on the exact girl I was hoping to find on my mattress.

  Ava wraps her arms around Rush and shakes her head at him. Granted she looks like she’s having a miserable time, she is holding him. From this angle, it looks one-sided, as if she’s anchoring him down, and something deep inside of that corrosive heart of mine dies a little more.

  Shit. All this time Rush has assured me he was just being a friend, being there for her when she needed someone, holding her up for me because he knew I couldn’t.

  I don’t like that I couldn’t, but at the moment, especially for those first few days, that was true to an extent. It’s hard to look at her. My eyes drag across her features, slow as Sunday, and every inch of her ratchets up that ache in my chest a little bit more. I’ve never felt pain this alive, pain this visceral. It’s different than losing Stephanie. Death has a way of forcing you to compartmentalize it. With Ava, it’s as if she died and is living out some alternative reality right alongside me—without me, of course. I want her to. I want her to be happy, to have love, and laugh once again. I just don’t want her to have those things with Rushford Knight, asshole extraordinaire.

  “So Grant”—Darcy steps in front of me and lands her arms over my waist—“now that we’ve kept our distance for almost six solid months, what do you think?” She rocks us side to side like we’re dancing. Her teeth graze over her lower lip in that flirtatious way she likes to do just before she kisses me, and something inside me demands to bolt. “You think we can give this thing another whirl?”

  I glance over her shoulder at Ava, and our eyes lock from across the room. Ava with Rush, me with Darcy. Is that the way it’s really supposed to be? I was never great at saying goodbye. Maybe we could have worked out. I could have manned up—been nice to her. It wasn’t her fault. But goodbye is one thing I didn’t get to say to Steph. Ava’s own sister took away that right from us—and now I’m right back to bitter. Nope. Ava wouldn’t want me in this state. I don’t know if I could ever leave it. I’m beyond repair in many ways, and as strong as I feel for her, I don’t know if I could ever turn off the flood of hatred I feel toward Aubree Vincent. If I did—what would that mean? It would marginalize Steph’s death, make it passible on some level. Nope. Forgiveness isn’t where this train is headed.

  Ava nods to something Rush says to her, and now he’s looking my way, too.

  I spin Darcy around until she’s facing them, forcing Ava to see that I’ve moved on, even if it isn’t true. Ava can’t have me. I can’t have her. Some things can never work out together, and we happen to be two of them.

  “Is that a yes?” Darcy’s eyes flicker with hope, and my gut churns because in no way did I mean to give it to her.

  “That’s a—”

  “Maybe?” Her head cocks to the side as she does her best to plead. “I’ll take that. Don’t say another word about it. The last thing I want is you changing your mind!” She hikes up and lands a kiss to my cheek.

  Crap. I step back and catch Ava looking away. My intention was never to hurt Ava. And I’m pretty sure making her watch Darcy hang all over me is doing just that.

  I lead Darcy to the back near the pool table, and we make small talk about life in The Hills, the good old days she calls them. I want to remind her that I lost my sister in those “good old days.” My family is a skeleton of what it once was. But I know Darcy is talking about us—our good old days. Little does she know they were never that great. I was going through the motions even then, too tired, too lost and in shock over my home life to figure out how to exit a mind-numbing relationship.

  “We were good friends,” I remind her.

  Darcy cuts a dry smile. Her entire affect stiffens as if I’ve poured fish guts over her selective memory party.

  “You were a lousy friend.” She makes a face. It’s true. I never did a lot of talking. I was probably a lousy listener, too. “But you were good in bed, and that’s worth a thousand unreturned phone calls.” Her finger glides over my lips, and there it is, the invite she’s been holding just out of reach all night.

  A moment thumps by, and I’m pretty sure that signals to her I’m considering this. In truth, the only thing I’m considering is how to make it clear to her that we’re over without getting my eyes clawed out. Not that Darcy is the eye clawing type, but there’s a desperation about her. She’s wearing its scent thick like perfume.

  “I’m going to head to the restroom. I’ll be right back.” I duck out of the room and lose myself in the crowd. Maybe I should get back together with Darcy. Give it one more try. After Ava who is there really? Maybe Ava simply woke up something that’s been asleep in me for so long. She kick-started my heart, and now maybe it’ll work for Darcy, too.

  I shake the thought out of my head as I stalk past the area I last saw Rush and Ava. I make sure to keep my head turned the opposite direction in the event he’s got her pinned to the wall. I can picture her head bent back in ecstasy, and even the visual of him making her that way drives me insane.

  The hallway is clogged with bodies—mostly girls waiting in line for the bathroom and a few guys hitting on them as they wait. I keep suggesting they put up a sign that leads to a lesser-known bathroom just around the corner that hardly ever has a line, but it’s yet to happen. Next time, I’ll take it upon myself to make the sign. I could sure use a sign myself right about now. Am I destined to be with Darcy? Or is there someone else out there for me? But who could ever come close to—

  A body slams into mine as I crest the corner—Ava.

  Normally, this is where I would apologize and move on. This is where I would tell a dude to watch where he’s going because I’m so pissed off at the world right now. Where I’d politely apo
logize to a girl before making sure she was all right. But this isn’t a dude. This isn’t just any other girl. It’s her. And I can’t move. Can’t breathe. I can hardly stand the pummeling of my heart as it thrashes from my chest to hers.

  Her mouth opens as if to say something, and not a word comes out. But this dark shadowed hall, her hair, those lips, her body pressed tight to mine, it’s all a little too real, a little too much of what I want and need. All I want to do is have my arms find their way around her waist, to press my forehead to hers, to close my eyes and just breathe in her sweet, sweet scent.

  Ava offers a slight nod as the moment grows quickly stale.

  A flood of words struggles to breach the dam, but I won’t let them. This isn’t the time or place. And God only knows if I can get them out without turning into a maniac.

  I want to touch her, kiss her, and I can’t. Those affections, those feelings can never be mine again. I can’t hate someone she loves and think that we’d ever work out.

  Ava takes a full step back with disappointment filling her features. The moment stretches out like taffy, slow and far sweeter than it needs to be. And just like that, she ducks back into the crowd.

  I linger in the dark for an unsettling amount of time until Darcy springs into view.

  “Here you are!” She pulls me in, and that jovial smile of hers slides right off her face. “Are you okay? I haven’t seen you this upset since you lost your sister. Is this about Steph?”

  “No.” I pump a dry laugh.

  “Okay, good.” She takes up both of my hands in hers and rocks them between us. “It’s about a girl, isn’t it?” Tears come, and she blinks them away.

  “Yes.” There. The truth fits like two left shoes, but at least it drains the heavy sludge I’ve been lugging around in my chest.

  Darcy narrows her gaze to mine. Her affect softens as if she’s surrendering any false hope she was holding on to. “Who is she, and what the hell did she do to you?”

  And just like that, I tell Darcy everything.

  It’s strange how the first time Darcy and I broke up the two of us were inundated with tears, with fears of what a future without one another might hold. And here we are many months later, seated at a table at the Black Bear of all places, tossing around memories like they were dimes in a fountain—something shiny that sits just below the surface of time that still shimmers with beauty when you look at it.

  It was Darcy’s idea to come here, and this time I didn’t fight it. Something has shifted in me, and suddenly the Black Bear and all of the people that I was running from seem unimportant now. For so long my world rotated around Stephanie’s death. I had transformed myself into an entire solar system of anger and resentment that orbited Stephanie’s casket like the sun. But these last few weeks, my heart, my myopic worldview had shifted to someone very much alive, Ava Vincent.

  Baya brings us plates brimming with food and promptly disappears with a grin. Darcy thought it was only fair we officially begin anew as friends over burgers and fries. Now that she’s home for the holidays, she wants to explore all of the ins and outs of Hollow Brook that we weren’t exposed to in The Hills.

  “I’ve always been bent on going out of state.” She shakes her head while grazing on a fry. “But Whitney Briggs is pretty awesome. Who knew, right?”

  “You thinking of transferring?” I’m not sure I would mind. I’ve had Darcy around in my life for so long she feels like a fixture.

  “Are you kidding?” She picks up another fry and lobs it at me. “And watch you making out all over campus with Dream Girl? Count me out. I’m strong, but I’m not that strong.” She grimaces. “I really do want you to be happy, though.”

  Dream Girl. She didn’t say it with an ounce of sarcasm, and I marvel at that.

  “She is a dream girl.” Thoughts of Ava’s sister manipulating mine to the edge of the cliff and forging a suicide note run through my mind. “But Ava belongs to someone else.”

  “She doesn’t belong to someone else. You’re rejecting her.” She reaches across the table and gives my fingers a tug. “If Ava finds someone else, it’s because you pushed her into his arms.”

  Rush comes to mind. Those kisses he peppered her neck with a month back, all those late night chats he’s been having with her. It’s ironic. The more time my best friend spends with Ava, the less I want anything to do with him.

  “You can do this.” Darcy nods as if offering a pep talk before a big game. “If she’s that special to you, then you’ll climb right over this obstacle. Not caring about her sister is one thing, but not caring about her is entirely another.”

  Darcy’s words warm me straight to the bone because she’s right.

  “It’s not that I don’t care about her sister—I downright hate her.”

  Darcy bounces back in her seat as if I just knocked the wind out of her sails. “Grant.” She shakes her head as if the idea of me hating anyone seems improbable. “She’s not well. Besides, hate takes far too much energy to keep up. And I know what Stephanie would say.” Darcy knew Steph, so the thought of some beyond the grave knowledge coming my way has me at the edge of my seat, literally. “You don’t have to hate her.”

  “I don’t have to hate her.” I let the words swill around my ears before I ever believe them. The truth is, I’ve hated Aubree Vincent since the day they hauled her in for questioning. Prior to zeroing in on my sister’s killer, I never bought the idea that my sister took her own life. I watched my parents go through hell before her conviction. Not that putting her away did them any good. But every nightmare that has overtaken our lives can be accurately traced back to Aubree. I hate her so thoroughly that my days are often fueled with my anger toward her. “Who would I be if I didn’t hate her?” I take a sip of my drink and watch as Darcy tries to choke out an answer.

  “A better person.”

  A hand falls over my shoulder, and I turn to find Bryson Edwards nodding down at me. I knew a run-in with Bryson was almost imminent once we set foot in here, but a part of me was hoping for a small holiday miracle. I shouldn’t be too surprised. Miracles never were my thing.

  “You got a minute?” He nods toward the back, and I blow out a breath just thinking of where this might be headed.

  “Sure.” I excuse myself from the table and follow him to the empty poolroom. Bryson reminds me a lot of Jet, with his beefed up arms, tatted up sleeves, that same cautiously friendly smile. “What’s up?”

  “I’m glad to see you here.” He examines my features, my eyes as if looking for something he lost. “You look so much like her.” His smile comes and goes. “I miss her.” His eyes mist up, and I almost want to believe him. “She had a smile that rivals those stadium lights they use on the football field.”

  Something in me warms when he says it because I know for a damn fact it was true. Stephanie knew how to ignite the night with just the curve of her lips, a lot like Ava. And I feel like a traitor comparing the two.

  “I do miss her,” he insists. “And I know this is going to sound ridiculous, but I really do think she had something to do with me meeting Baya.” He winces. “I don’t mean that in a disrespectful way. It’s just—it was her birthday, Stephanie’s. I was talking to her like I do sometimes, and I wondered what she would want me to be doing and with who—that’s when I bumped into Baya.” He shakes his head in lieu of an apology.

  That scene last night in the hall where I wondered who I belonged with comes to mind. I bumped into Ava. Of all the parties at Beta house, not once did I bump into anyone, not like that, not when I needed to most.

  “It could have been a coincidence.” I’m quick to shoot down his afterlife-inspired love connection, but a strong surge of hope fills me, because what if…

  “Nope.” He shakes his head, emphatic. “I swear it was her. Steph’s always been on point when it comes to people. She can figure out who you should and shouldn’t be hanging around with.”

  “Then why the hell did she hang around with Aubree?” I s
pear him with all the deadness I’ve been lugging around in my soul, all the soot, the grief that sticks to the inside of me like tar. “She wasn’t a good judge of character, Bryson. If she was, she’d still be here today.”

  “She was friends with Aubree.” He bows his head and scratches at the back of his neck like a dog that’s spent too much time in the sun. “She had a bad feeling about her. The relationship went south once Aubree expressed interest in me. Steph and I were just friends at that point, but it was me she was looking out for.” He pauses, staring hard out the window behind me. “I never thought”—his voice breaks—“it never occurred to me when Steph passed that Aubree had anything to do with it. I could never imagine.”

  “No one did.” Not even the cops. My mother swore it was a homicide—the note wasn’t even close to her penmanship, but they wouldn’t open a case. “They ruled it a suicide, and that’s what stuck.”

  “Until it didn’t.” He clasps his hand over my arm. “Steph was exonerated. We know she wanted to live. She loved you.”

  “She loved you.” I pin him with the words. A part of me wants to watch him squirm a little. Bryson has led a storybook life since my sister’s passing, and all my sister got was the life knocked out of her.

  “I want to be your friend, Grant. We used to be. I think we can be again.”

  A lump settles in my throat. When I lost Steph, I lost Bryson, too. He was the one who taught me how to throw a ball. He came to all my games and cheered me on right next to Steph. But sometimes in life there’s just too much baggage to deal with, and that’s what Bryson and I have between us, a shit load of baggage.