A Truthful Kiss: (Signed with a Kiss, Book 3)

by Sorensen, Jessica

  How long was that person watching me in the alleyway before they appeared? Why were they watching me? What were they planning on doing when they caught me?

  I gulp as a dark thought creeps into the crevasses of my mind.

  What if Jay is the one blackmailing me? And what if he was planning on doing what he did to me that day in the bathroom.

  West grazes the back of his hand along my jawline, drawing me from my thoughts. “Let’s go inside, okay?” He waits for me to nod then tangles his fingers through mine and steers us toward the front door.

  The house is locked up, so I have dig my key out of my pocket. Then, when I open the front door, I have to rush over and turn the alarm off.

  “Hello?” I call out, doubting anyone is home since the lights were off when I entered.

  When no one responds, I move past West and lock the front door.

  “Let’s go up to my room,” I tell him. “Just in case someone comes home.”

  “Afraid someone will see you with me?” he teases.

  I shake my head. “Nah. I just don’t want anyone overhearing what I need to tell you.”

  His expression softens, and the look in his eyes is so intense that I have to turn away.

  “Come on.” I motion for him to follow me as I jog up the stairs.

  When we go into my room, I shut the door and toss my keys and phone onto the nightstand, procrastinating as I attempt to figure out what to say.

  “It’s been a while since I’ve been in your room,” he remarks as he peers around at my mostly bare walls. “It’s a lot different.”

  “I took a lot of my artwork down after my parents passed away,” I mumble, glancing at my reflection in the mirror.

  Awesome. I look like a hot mess. My hair is tangled, and I somehow got paint on my cheek.

  I rub it off with the back of my hand then turn around to tell West what’s been going on over the last twenty-four hours, tell him all the stuff I haven’t yet, but my heart nearly stops when I see him. Or, well, what he’s looking at.

  The drawing I did of him last night. And now he’s here, staring at it.

  “Um … That was for an assignment,” I lie, crossing my arms over my chest, feeling exposed at the moment.

  He remains silent for a few slamming heartbeats before looking at me. “When did you draw it?”

  I want to lie again and plan on doing just that, but when my lips part, the truth falls out.

  “Last night, after you dropped me off.”

  With his lips pressed together, his gaze shifts back to the drawing. “I look sad.”

  “You looked sad last night when you left,” I tell him quietly.

  “Did I?” he murmurs then turns to face me. “Why did you draw me?”

  “I … I just couldn’t get the image of you out of my head, so I drew you because that’s what I do. Well, used to do.” I’m being way too truthful, and the amount of discomfort rising inside me is making my chest feel pressurized.

  And that pressure only magnifies as he steps toward me.

  “Lex,” he starts.

  “Don’t,” I cut him off, even though I’m unsure what he’s going to say. “Don’t say anything.”

  Talking about this … that pressure in my chest … I feel like I’m about to burst open.

  He stops in front of me and cups my chin in his hand, angling my face up toward his. “Okay, I won’t,” he says, leaning forward and causing me to lean back against the dresser. Then he seals his lips to mine, kissing me. A real kiss. Not one put on for a performance. Just like in his car.

  I don’t know what to do with that, don’t know what to think, so I decide to stop thinking at all and just kiss him back, sliding my arms up his chest and looping them around the back of his neck. He shudders beneath my touching then slides his hand around and tangles his fingers through my hair, tilting my head back even more and kissing me so deeply that I swear my lips are going to bruise. Then he’s pulling back, his breath faltering against my face as he keeps his eyes shut, struggling to breathe evenly.

  “I … I want to do this right,” he whispers, seeming torn about something.

  My chest rises and crashes with every ragged breath I take. “Do what right?”

  “This.” He lifts his eyelids and removes his fingers from my hair, but only to trace them along the side of my face. “You and me.”

  “I …” I gulp audibly. “I thought we were just pretending?”

  “Are we?” He smiles, but nervousness resides in his eyes.

  It’s time to tell him.

  “I have to tell you something. Something the blackmailer did last night.”

  9

  Alexis

  By the time I’ve finished telling West what happened, we’re sitting on my bed. He’s also gotten very quiet.

  “You okay?” I ask after several, quiet minutes tick by.

  He nods with a crease between his brow. “Yeah, I’m just trying to figure out what this person wants and why they’re going through all this trouble to blackmail people. Not to mention, how in the hell are they getting all these secrets about everyone.” He rakes his fingers through his hair, making the strands go askew.

  While he hasn’t said much, his silence has left a lot of questions hanging between us. Like why he’s not trying to deny that he’s in love with me.

  I absentmindedly trace my fingertip along the pattern of my comforter. “Considering they spied on me while I was sleeping over at your place, they’re clearly putting in a lot of effort with this.”

  He balls his hands into fists. “I’m trying not to think about that part too much, because it makes me want to break something. And threatening to cut your brake cables …” He shakes his head, his jaw ticking. “Maybe we should go to the police.”

  “No, if we go to the police, then they show everyone those videos of me, and I can’t handle that, West. I just can’t … I can’t think about everyone seeing me like that …” I trail off, working to get air into my lungs.

  He cups my face between his hands. “If you don’t want to, we won’t.” He kisses my forehead then leans back and looks me in the eye. “Just take a deep breath, okay?”

  Nodding, I do what he says. It’s probably the first time I’ve ever been so cooperative.

  Once my breathing has returned to normal, he says cautiously, “I have to tell you something, but before I do, I need to ask you something.” A slow breath eases from his lips. “Is the reason why you kissed me in my car today because of what the blackmailer told you to do? Because you made the deal with them about trying to break my heart?”

  So, here’s the thing; I was too chicken shit to tell him that they also said that he’s in love me. Instead, I used the word “like,” hoping to make things less awkward. But I still feel like things are awkward. And that awkwardness, I despise it. Part of me wants to lie and say yes so this, this kissing and emotional connection West and I are kind of starting to establish, will end. It might be easier if I just lied. I can be a good liar when I need to. But I’m starting to think that lying is what got me into this blackmailer mess to begin with.

  “No,” I admit, my heart pounding deafeningly in my chest.

  His throat muscles work as he swallows hard . “I didn’t kiss you because of the deal, either.”

  Holy … Wow …

  Why do I feel so warm right now?

  And why do I want to kiss him so badly?

  I may have, but he speaks first.

  “I talked to Blaine today,” he says, nearly giving me whiplash from the subject change.

  “Really?” I ask, a little perplexed since the last time they spoke, at least from what I know, West punched Blaine in the face. “Why?”

  He lowers his hands from my face and sighs. “Ellis was able to track the number that’s been texting you, and it was registered in Blaine’s name.” So many emotions storm through me, but before I can even attempt to process them, he adds, “He’s not sending you the texts, though. He’s being
blackmailed by the same person, and one of the blackmailer’s requests was for him to open a phone line for them. He also …” He lowers his gaze, staring down at his hands. “It’s also why he’s been hooking up with Masie.”

  My eyes widen as I attempt to process everything he’s telling me. But it’s a lot to take in. These last few days, me getting upset, me ending up with West, has all been because of the blackmailer.

  “What dirt does he have on Blaine?” Because, from what I knew, Blaine is a good guy. However, I also thought West was the bad guy, but he’s not. At all. Not even a little bit.

  “I’m not sure.” He lifts his gaze to mine, question marks overflowing from his eyes. Although, I don’t know what he’s confused about. “He wouldn’t tell me, but he was acting really paranoid when I went to talk to him. He even made me drive up to our spot by the lake so he could be positive no one was following us. I guess the blackmailer somehow found out we were together, though, and they told him that he had to beat my ass, or else they’d out whatever they have over him.”

  “What? He beat you up because of that?”

  “I told him to,” he clarifies, lightly touching the wound on his forehead. “Not that I’m still not pissed off at him, but he looked so freaked out that my dumbass felt sorry for him.”

  “You’re not dumb. You were being a good friend.” I pause. “He has no idea who’s doing this?”

  “No, but I find it strange that both you and Blaine are getting blackmailed by them, since you two are close. Makes me wonder if perhaps you both know who the person is.”

  “Blaine and I were close,” I stress. “I feel like I don’t even know him anymore. And honestly, I don’t think he knows me anymore either.”

  He observes me closely, uncertainty written all over his face. I’m about to ask him what the hell is up with that look when he asks, “Now that you know he’s not really into Masie, does that …?” He huffs out frustrated exhale. “Do you think you’ll be friends with him again?”

  I shrug. “I have no idea.”

  And I really don’t.

  I also don’t think he really meant to use the word friends.

  He wants to know if I like Blaine again now that I know the truth—that Blaine isn’t really into Masie. But through all this—me seeing him kiss Masie, me cutting that tie with him—it made me realize that I’m unsure if I even still liked Blaine, that maybe I was just latching on to that love I once felt for him, because it made me feel connected to my past when my parents were alive still. And I was telling the truth when I told West that Blaine and I don’t really know each other anymore. Truthfully, West probably knows more about me right now than Blaine does. What that means, though, I haven’t got a clue. Or maybe I do and am just afraid to let myself admit it aloud.

  “So, about that key you found in the alley,” I say, deflecting. “What do you think that’s for?”

  He stares at me with an unreadable expression, probably because he can totally tell that I’m avoiding having a conversation about Blaine. Still, he lets me off the hook, digging the key out of his pocket.

  “I’m not sure. Maybe it doesn’t even have anything to do with the person in the hoodie, but it did seem weirdly out of place.” He holds the key in the palm of his hand, examining it.

  I lean toward him to get a better look. Under the light, I can see how old it is, rusted around the edges and bulky. But what is really strange is the markings engraved into the top.

  “What do you think these are?” I ask, running my fingertip along the markings.

  “I’m not sure, but I don’t think they’re just random scratches.”

  “Yeah, they look like symbols.”

  Biting his bottom lip, he glances up at me. “Tonight, do you think you could draw that tattoo you saw on that guy’s neck? Then, maybe tomorrow, I can have Ellis run image searches on that and these markings.”

  I nod. “I can do that.” At least, I hope I can.

  I haven’t tried to draw anything else since the drawing of West. And when I did that, I was in some sort of emotional, overpowering state. But drawing a tattoo doesn’t have to mean anything. It’s just a simple drawing; that’s all.

  “I also don’t want to be all weird or anything,” West says cautiously, “but I think you should be careful for a bit and maybe try not to be alone as much as possible.”

  “I get why you’re saying that, and I understand that I probably should, but I also don’t have a lot of people in my life that I’m close to.”

  He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. “You have me.”

  God, I really wish he’d stop saying stuff like that. And looking me like he thinks I’m important. And touching me so gently, so carefully.

  “You can’t be with me twenty-four seven,” I remind him.

  “Says who?” he teases.

  “Says life,” I quip. “You have your own life, your own stuff going on. You can’t just spend all your time with me.”

  “Maybe not all my time, although it’d be sort of fun.” He grins amusedly. “We could sleep in the same bed, all pressed up together. And then, when we wake up, we could share the shower.” When I narrow my eyes at him, he gives me an innocent look. “Only to save water. I like to do my part in trying to help the environment.”

  I bite back a smile as I shake my head, and a smile takes over his face. But underneath the smile, he looks worn out with bags under his eyes and that cut on his forehead hasn’t been properly cleaned yet.

  He has so much to deal with as it is already, and yet he’s here, with me, helping me out with my own shit.

  “We should go clean up your cut,” I tell him, lightly brushing my finger just below the wound.

  His smile fizzles as he smashes his lips together. “Okay.” His voice sounds hoarse, but I’m not sure why, other than maybe my touching him hurt.

  Lowering my hand, I climb off the bed and start for the door. He follows me, resting his hand on my lower back. I could step out of his touch—it’s not like we need to pretend that we’re dating right now—but I find myself comforted by the gesture.

  West, he’s really been there for me through all this.

  And he’s not who I thought he was.

  He’s sweet and kind and, yes, I’ll admit, sexy.

  And his kisses …

  Wow …

  “You okay?” he asks as we enter the small bathroom. “You seem kind of tense.”

  “I’m just peachy,” I lie as I collect the first-aid kit from under the sink. Then I stand up and pat the counter. “Hop up. I’ll patch you up.”

  With the corners of his lips tilted upward, he hoists himself onto the counter. “Aw, you gonna play doctor for me? If so, you should go put on a naughty nurse’s outfit.”

  I make a big show of rolling my eyes as I open the kit and move in front of him.

  My heart is a mess as I imagine doing what he’s implying. I wouldn’t even know how to do that—be sexy—because I’m completely inexperienced and West isn’t. I know that for a fact.

  “I don’t have one,” I say. “And besides, nurses wear scrubs.”

  “True.” He watches me intently as I get out the peroxide and a cotton ball. “For Halloween, you should dress up as one. You’d look sexy as hell.”

  “Nah, that’s not really my style.” I set the kit down on the counter. “Maybe you can convince Stella Mafelerton to do it for you, though.”

  He angles his head to the side. “What the hell does Stella Mafelerton have to do with this?”

  I douse the cotton ball with peroxide. “Today, I heard her talking about how hot she thinks you are. If you go to that party this weekend, you might get lucky.”

  Amusement glitters in his eyes. “Wouldn’t that be a little weird, since you are my girlfriend?”

  “Fake girlfriend.” I set the bottle of peroxide down. “And we never established how long we are gonna date. We could always break up before the party”

  “Yeah, we never did establish a tim
eframe, did we?” His gaze burrows into me as I lift my hand and dab his wound with the cotton ball. He winces then clears his throat. “Lex … about what the blackmailer told you.”

  I cringe as my hand noticeably trembles. “Which part?”

  He circles his fingers around my wrists, searing hot, drawing my attention to him. “About me liking you.” He rubs his lips together then lowers my hand from his wound. “It’s true. I’ve liked you for a while.”

  Hearing him say it aloud almost makes my heart jolt, and I end up dropping the cotton ball.

  “Are you being seriously right now?” I question skeptically as I pick up the cotton ball and set it down on the counter.

  “Don’t act like that, Lex. Like there’s no way I could possibly like you. You’re gorgeous as hell, smart, sarcastic, funny, sweet, even though you pretend not to be, and talented. You’re also feisty when you need to be.”

  “I’m also a pain in the ass.” I joke in an attempt to mask what his words are doing to me.

  I feel like I’m about to crawl out of my skin and all that’s left will be bones, cracked bones, and a splintered heart, and he’ll see it all.

  “Yeah, that, too,” he agrees with a nervous grin. “But it doesn’t change how I feel.”

  Oh my God, I think he’s actually being serious. But how? And …

  “For … For how long?”

  “How long have I liked you?” he asks, and I nod. He gives a half-shrug, but the move is a bit stiff. “For a while.”

  He’s nervous about telling me this. Why? Because he’s putting himself out there? Or is it because of something else?

  For a while?

  How …?

  What?

  My lips part in shock. “But you never said anything.”

  “I know. Because I knew you were in love with Blaine,” he stresses with a pressing look.

  My lips form an O.

  Silence stretches between us, and the awkwardness builds.

  “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way.” He forces a fake smile onto his face. “We can just be friends, if that’s what you want.”