The Kisser

by Liv Kingstown

  “You did not just say that.” Diamond is as stunned as I am.

  “I did,” he turns towards her. “I’ll toss you so high up into the air and watch and laugh when I see your ass come down to splat on the floor.”

  “Taylor!” I shout but it doesn’t faze him. He walks closer to Diamond and pushes on her shoulder.

  “And I also swear that if you post nasty shit about me all over the Internet again, I won’t just drop you, I’ll sue your ass then take your car, your clothes, and your money for defamation of character. You’re a lowlife bitch who doesn’t deserve to be prima. Like. My. Mother. And I’m not going to let you say shit about me or bring me down anymore, especially not in front of her.” He points at me. “She doesn’t deserve... she deserves...” He pauses.

  The room is silent, except for the faucet running. It runs for a full minute before Diamond interrupts.

  “You like her.” Diamond eyes me up then eyes my cane. “How can you like her? She’s a fucking cripple. How can you like someone whose legs don’t work. She probably can’t even dance.”

  “He doesn’t like me,” I try to assure her. “He just feels sorry for me.”

  “That’s not true!” He blares and I pull my lips between my teeth.

  “Diamond.” He claws at his own hair. Steam seems to be evaporating off his skin. “Get out.”

  “No, I’m not getting out.” She walks over to me, picks up my cane and shoves it in my chest, nearly pushing me over before she looks at him. “Taylor, we have been partners for over a year now and we still need each other. Actually, you need me more. And not just because we dance great together but because the school and your ballet company depend on my presence financially. I know my worth. You tell her to get out.”

  I slip the cane gently from Diamond’s fingers. “It’s okay,” I try to say with the mousiest, most non-confrontational tone I can manage. “I’ll go. Diamond’s right. I’m sure you two can work this out.” And I hope they do! I can’t afford for them to break up. At least, not as dance partners.

  “You stay right there,” he growls, pointing his finger again at me. “Don’t you fucking move.”

  “Are you just going to let him talk to you like that?” Diamond plants her hand on her hip. “You see? This is his problem. His temper. He likes to push people. No one knows how to handle him but me. And if you keep getting personal with him, he’ll eventually dump you. Because that’s what he does. He lures you in, loves on you, and then dumps you. It’s part of his ego. I’m telling you, he’ll hurt you. You heard him just threaten to drop me.”

  “Jesus Christ, Diamond!” he snaps, rubbing his face.

  I get up, coming off the stool and plant my cane down. “You can stay,” I tell her. “I believe I’m in over my head here.”

  “Oh honey, you’re waaaaay in over your head.” She kicks my cane and down I go. The butterflies in my belly flapping cannot keep me from crashing onto the floor.

  “Ree!” Taylor skips to us. His tone has changed. He seems worried but now I’m desperate to get the hell out of here.

  He bends beside me and lifts at my elbow, but I snatch it back.

  “Let me help you up,” he says.

  It’s embarrassing enough I can’t stand on my own two feet in front of the beautiful people. “Please, don’t help.”

  He cusses under his breath, which is followed with, “Fine.”

  Swiftly, he picks up Diamond instead, who begins cursing at the top of her lungs. He plants her on her feet at the door and then he grabs her by the arm. Pushing her out, she fights him but only so she can swivel her head to be sure I see the evil eyes that look like they are about to shoot flames in my direction.

  Her fingers claw the door frame and I’m surprised to see the two dancers like swans, suddenly agitated, getting so aggressive in protecting their territory.

  In truth, I suspect they might be behaving like a married couple and think perhaps they are made for one another.

  Taylor manages to push Diamond through the door frame but she succeeds in smacking him across the face. “I’m not going to rehearsal today and I hope you tell your grandma that it’s because of you. Because you threatened to hurt me. Kill me.”

  “Get out,” he shoves her by the forehead out the door and shuts it.

  Leaning the crown of his head against the frame, he takes a moment to collect himself.

  I feel so bad. I should’ve never come here. Taylor and I had the most wonderful working relationship before we met. I wouldn’t exactly call it a relationship but it was working.

  I find my knees and try to get up when a hand attempts to snake its way around my waist.

  “Please don’t touch me,” I say sternly and Taylor’s hand retracts.

  I manage to climb up from the floor. I fix my dress and dust my knees, then shoulders.

  Getting myself straight, I look Taylor in the eyes. “I need to go to your car to get my things in the trunk.”

  “Yeah, sure.” He doesn’t argue.

  10

  Taylor

  I’ve succeeded in convincing her to let me take her home. I promised I wouldn’t say anything. No jokes. No discussion. It makes me sick because I want to talk to her. She won’t even look at me now.

  She keeps rubbing her hip and it’s killing me. I think she got hurt when she fell.

  Yet. Again.

  “Are you all right?” I ask, taking a wrong turn.

  She points out the window. “Taylor, you missed my street.”

  “I’m sorry, did I?”

  “Yes, I live that way.”

  “I’ll turn around,” I say waiting for my chance to make a U-y, but then I see an open stall along the street so I park and shut the engine off.

  “Why are we stopped?” She spins her head around.

  “You’re hurt.”

  She rubs her hip, keeping her gaze focused out the window. “I’m used to it.”

  “I know now why you stood me up.”

  “Oh yeah?” She raises a brow, still not looking at me. “That’s great, but we don’t have to talk about it. I live right around the block. If you need me to, I can walk home from here.” She reaches for the door handle, popping it open.

  I reach over and shut the door. “Why do you keep running from me?”

  “Why do you keep trying so hard?”

  “I think it’s obvious, Rerun.”

  “Because you feel sorry for me.”

  I grab her by the chin and capture her gaze. “No. It’s not that and you know it.”

  “I’m a challenge, Taylor. That’s all it is. But you really should just let it go now.”

  She blinks her beautiful pale-blue eyes. Sweet, innocent doe eyes that I just don’t want to let go of right now. Her eyes, my eyes—they are like day and night. I feel like if I let her escape, I’ll end up living in the darkness for eternity.

  Sliding my hand down her arm, I lean back into my seat. Entangling my fingers with hers and pulling her hand into my lap. “I want to try again. I want to take you out. Let’s try again. Tonight.”

  “We never really went out in the first place.”

  “Exactly.” I smile. “What time should I pick you up?”

  “Nnn...” she growls.

  Shit. She’s about to say “no” and this time I feel like if she does, I’m done for good and I panic.

  “If you don’t let me take you out tonight, I’m going to fire you.”

  She tries to pull her hand back, but I keep it tucked at my inner thigh.

  “You wouldn’t,” she gasps.

  I lean over, rubbing her jawline with my thumb. “Awh, baby, but I would,” I threaten.

  “That’s not nice, Taylor.” Her eyes water.

  This sucks. So much. There’s nothing in my arsenal to get this woman to go out with me. It doesn’t matter how I act or talk to her, whether I’m smooth, cool, or a jerk, I can’t win with her.

  “Look, I just want to take you out.”

  “I don’
t go out,” she bows her chin.

  “You were out with Ben the other night.”

  “I trust him. He wouldn’t let what happened with Diamond just now happen to me.”

  “C’mon, you can’t hold me accountable for her, Ree,” I pick up her chin. “But I promise, I won’t let her get to you again. There’s got to be something. Something I can do that will clear up any distrust we have here. After everything that happened at the club and then with Diamond... I want you to know that I’m not a machine like my critics say. I care.”

  Wait. What did I just say?

  “There is... something.” She sings sweetly and my heart floats.

  “Whatever it is just ask.”

  “You can be at the photo shoot tomorrow.”

  The photo shoot! I’d forgotten. It’ll just be me and her!

  “And be nice to Diamond,” she says. “In fact, you need to call her and makeup with her so she shows up to take pictures tomorrow as well.”

  No fucking way did I call that skank. Tonight needs to be about me and Ree and that’s it.

  Delores is slow to exit. The rest of the school has been emptied of skipping boys and ballerinas, but Delores takes her sweet time and it’s already after nine in the evening.

  “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I ask the old lady.

  “You trying to get rid of me, Taylor?”

  “I have that photo shoot tonight with my manager, remember? She wanted it to be private.”

  “Ah, that’s right,” says Delores finally waddling her way towards the front entrance. “That redhead is a cute one, don’t you think?”

  Fucking adorable is more like it, but I shrug. “She’s all right, I guess.”

  “Hmm, it’s too bad about her foot, although it makes me like her a lot more. It’s nice to see a young lady shine with so much courage.”

  “Mhm,” I nod, opening the front door and propping it wide for Delores to go through. I grit my teeth when she pauses halfway out.

  She turns to me. “You plan on screwing with this girl this evening?”

  “Who me?” I ask innocently, trying to hide my horns and front a fake halo.

  “Yeah, you,” Delores rattles. “If you do, don’t forget to shut off the video cameras.”

  Oh crap! The video cameras!

  “And wear a condom. The world’s not ready for more thorny little Rosebuds, unless you want me to prune them for you. Hmm?” Delores smacks my cheek as a warning, which stings but also makes me laugh. “Deep down, you were always a good boy, Taylor. Be good to this girl, tonight? Okay?”

  “Okay,” I say genuinely.

  Delores turns with an appeased grin and leaves—finally.

  I shut the door behind her and rush back to her office to shut off the cameras when I hear the front door open again.

  I pause. My hands are shaking and I’m semi-nauseous. I think I’m nervous. I’ve never been nervous about anything in my life. Not even when I had to perform in front of the President of the United States or after I broke my arm and was still expected to attempt a round off followed by a backward somersault single-handedly when I was a kid in front of a hundred other kids in Asia who were hoping I’d stumble and break my neck.

  These feelings are ridiculous. My nerves are out of control. This, I believe, is how other dancers feel when they express nervousness before a performance.

  And this isn’t even a performance! I’m about to pose in front of the camera for one person. Just one woman.

  “Taylor?” Ree calls from down the hall.

  I remain poised for just a sec to catch my breath before I pop my head out.

  “Hi.” I smile, keeping my shoulders straight, although I really just want to fall at her feet.

  Jesus, she’s so pretty. A short floral flowy dress with a low scooped neckline follows the contour of her body until it reaches her hips where it fans down to her mid-thigh. She reminds me of spring and my cock is about to spring out of my pants. I’m salivating.

  Cool. Just be cool.

  “You need help with that?” I ask, taking the duffel bag from her shoulder.

  Holy shit! This thing is heavy.

  “How’d you manage this all by yourself?” I ask.

  She sighs, trying to pull the bag back.

  “I didn’t mean...” She thinks I’m referring to her foot as if I think she’s incapable, which I don’t. I attempt to snatch the bag from her. “You should’ve let me pick you up.”

  “You should learn to let go.” She tugs back.

  Ugh, this bantering. I like it with other girls (usually because it puts me in control), but not with her. “So, we’re already at this game, are we?”

  She smirks. “I guess we are.”

  I drop the bag at her feet. “Fine. You can set up in the ballroom down the hall on the left. I’m going to warm up.”

  As I step away, I realize how quickly my feelings have changed. I was so excited to see her, show her my moves, and pose for a few pictures. In truth, I would’ve done whatever she asked, but now I just want to crawl into a corner not to be seen. She won’t even accept my help.

  “Taylor,” she sounds off and my heart stops.

  I turn around to see her teetering, allowing her flowy dress to sway as she rubs her forehead.

  “I’m sorry.” She swallows. “I don’t’ mean to... I know you were probably just trying to be a gentleman. You see, I have a hard time accepting help from people. I don’t like to be an inconvenience. Can we start this over? I think I may have gotten off on the wrong...” She tilts her head back and forth and grins. “Foot.”

  I walk to her, picking up the bag although I really just want to pick her up, squeeze her, kiss her again, throw her against the wall and get freaky with her.

  “Sure.” I grin. “We can start again, but only if you let me help you because, as you said, I’m a gentleman.”

  “Of course.” She grins as I pick up and swing her duffel bag over my shoulder.

  Together, we walk towards the ballroom and I ask her what she plans to do with all this equipment, which weighs a ton.

  She starts talking about her ideas, speaking of the designs she’s clearly mapped out in fine detail, which all revolve around me. The design terms she speaks of I don’t understand, but the intensity in her voice and the excitement she projects on her face makes me realize how committed she is to see her creativity come to life.

  She asks how I would feel about doing some general poses—simple stuff children first learn when they take up ballet. Again, she repeats she doesn’t want to waste my time or be an inconvenience with simple requests. Naturally, I agree to do whatever she asks and not because she expects me to but because I want to.

  Once in the ballroom, I drop her bag and she suggests I warm up while she sets up her camera equipment. How in the hell Ree dragged all that heavy shit across town by herself, I have no idea, but I recall the one time I took Diamond on a date and I had to carry her Coach bag because it didn’t match her outfit. I’d do laps around town with Ree’s duffel bag if it would get her to go on just one date with me.

  And I’m not exactly sure why I want to take Rerun out so badly, although it’s possible she might be right about the fact it’s because she’s a challenge. She keeps denying me.

  Grabbing her cane, she looks like she’s struggling to keep her balance as she tries to screw a light bulb into a foldable light stand.

  “Can I help you with that?” I ask.

  “No, I’m fine,” she replies, maintaining her focus.

  Goddamnit! It’s true. I hate that she keeps denying me.

  It makes me want her more.

  It makes me want to pull her close and spank her ass until she says, “Yes,” and only to me. I’ve never met anyone or anything more challenging than Ree.

  I decide to stretch before I get too riled up. I need to let go of some of this heat rising. Every time she bends over to reach in her bag, a little of her cotton panties peep at the back and it’s taking ever
ything I have not to swoop her up, take her down, and fall right on top of her.

  I pull out some mats. I never use mats, not since I was a kid, but I feel the need to have them ready in case Rerun asks me to do something less simple and hopefully more complex or maybe even dangerous. Although, I don’t want to get hurt should I land on my back.

  And, I most certainly would like Ree to be comfortable if she should somehow land on her back...

  With me right on top of her.

  I lift up my shirt.

  “Taylor, no,” she stops me. “Leave that on. I know you’re used to wearing less but I’d like to get some images of you fully dressed first. Would you mind smiling?”

  I smile and she snaps a picture then looks at the image on the back of her camera.

  The rosiness in her cheeks deepens and I swear there’s a twinkle in her eye. “Can we take a few more?”

  “Yeah.” I smile again and she snaps a few more.

  Up close and from afar, she moves with her cane and her camera. Her dress swings as I do nothing but be still and smile until she grunts, nervously. “Okay, let’s get some with you in a pose or two.”

  I reach to lift up my shirt again.

  “No, Taylor,” she laughs. “Let’s see some modern poses, keeping your clothes on. We’re going for an urban look here. Can you jump or something?”

  Can I jump? The woman just asked me if I can jump. Surely, she has forgotten who the hell she’s working with.

  “Get your camera ready,” I tell her as I head to the corner of the room and take a breath.

  Racing, I do a front aerial, springing into a front handspring, and close with a round-off back handspring leading to kickout of a split leap.

  “Did you get any of that?” I ask, fanning my shirt. “The split wasn’t as wide or as high as I’d like, but you know the jeans are a bit restrictive.”

  Her jaw has dropped. “I-I didn’t know you could d-do all that,” she stutters. “But I was thinking something more along the lines of dance. Ballet? Maybe?”

  “Oh, sure,” I acknowledge. This time I have to remove my shirt and pants, keeping only my dance briefs on.