Never Been Kissed: A Never Been Novel

by C.M. Kars

  No, no, no.

  Stomach knotted, heart in my mouth, I watch as if my legs are stuck in molasses; the signals my brain puts out to my muscles are lazy and sluggish. I won’t have enough time to catch him if the car I’m hearing whips around the corner.

  I watch that tuft of hair at the back of Matty’s head bounce in time with each footfall as he runs to Hunt’s car in slow-motion. I watch as he turns around at the sound of burning rubber, and trips on his feet, stumbling to the ground. I watch as the hood of a blue Mustang comes around the corner, gleaming in the fluorescent lighting, too bright. And moving too fast.

  I’m going to be too slow.

  I’m going to be too slow!

  Hunter bolts out of my peripheral vision, sprinting across the lot, boots biting into the pavement with a thudding sound. I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe. A screech of brakes ricochets around the jip-rocked walls, over and over again hitting me from all angles.

  Matty’s on the ground, and Hunt’s almost there, God, he’s almost there-

  I squeeze my eyes shut.

  Count to ten.

  This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening. Thisisn’thappening!

  “Who the fuck do you think you are?” Hunter’s voice booms in the now silent lot. His voice is an angry hellfire of rageand the poor bastard sitting behind the wheel is going to get singed. I don’t feel sorry. “It’s not fucking NASCAR, you fucking asshole!”

  I open my eyes.

  Matty’s secure in Hunt’s arms, while Hunt has a fist pounding into the hood of the blue Mustang that nearly killed them both. I have a dim memory of locking my knees or else I’m not sure what to do with my legs now that I’ve become unstuck. My lower lip trembles, and the world swims in an ocean of tears that cascade down my cheeks.

  I can breathe again.

  I can move, but I don’t want to. Not yet. Instead, I take in the sight of my boys, alive and well and so very nearly taken away from me. Life has a way of showing you things, showing you how easily the good can be taken away.

  A teenaged kid with Daddy’s car opens his car door, white-faced and trembling does he face down a father’s wrath. It could have been much, much worse. And thank God it wasn’t.

  Walking over on numb feet and legs to Hunter, I grab the fist that has split skin along the knuckles from punching the hood of the guy’s car. Temporary pain, easily fixable. The idea of him being mauled, under the car has my belly doing somersaults and not the good kind.

  The kid behind the wheel stands half in, half out of his car, staring at us all, maybe thinking he almost destroyed a family.Stammering out an apology, Hunter is having none of it. He keeps yelling, but I’m bothered by Matty’s silence and what that might mean. Did he pass out?

  “Let’s just go, please. You know where the kid lives, you can always beat him up later, alright? Let’s get Matty to daycare. C’mon, Hunter. C’mon,” I coax the Beast with a gentle voice. I move slowly mostly because my legs are still refusing to work at full capacity and the awful what ifs keep bombarding my brain and taking up all my attention.

  “God damn it, Matty, who the fuck told you to run off like that? Fuck. Just, fuck. Here take him, put him in his car seat.” Hunter says, handing his son off to me.

  In the cradle of my arms, I can feel the little guy tremble, his whole body buzzing with the movement.

  “You okay, little buddy?” I ask, rubbing his back, petting his hair, doing what I can to soothe him as much as myself.I should go back there and beat the shit out of that kid, like a mama bear would. But I’m not Matty’s Mom, and it’s not my place.

  Matty’s arms wind tighter around my neck, his cheek pressed to mine.

  “I’m sorry, Sera. I’m sorry. I just wanted to have some fun,” Matty whispers into my ear, the words a ghost of what his usually happy voice sounds like. I’m so happy to hear it, I want to cry.

  “I know, baby. I know you didn’t mean for that car to come around. It’s not your fault.” I rub his back, up and down, up and down, while Hunter walks back and forth the length of the parking lot, hands clenched into fists, boots punishing the pavement he walks on.

  “Why is Daddy so mad at me if it wasn’t my fault? I didn’t mean to fall. I coulda gotten up real fast in another second-”

  I settle his butt on the trunk of Hunter’s car, making him look at me. I cradle his face with my hands and wipe away the trace of tears. I bend close and kiss his forehead, smelling baby shampoo and little boy rolled into one.

  “He was scared. I was scared. People get angry when they get scared. Nobody likes getting scared, Matty. That’s all.” What a useless thing to say. “I’m so happy you’re alright and nothing happened to you. I mean, who would I read Harry Potter to?”

  He looks down at his Iron Man shoes with the flashing heel. “Maybe you’ll find a little boy who’s better than I am. You’ll love him more than you love me.”

  Pain lances through me but I’m not bleeding or physically hurt. I lean forward and hug him tight, trying to convey as much love as possible in the simple movement.

  “Matty, I love you. I love you. There are no other little boys that I could ever love this much unless you had a little brother, then I think it would be okay. You’re my favourite little boy in the whole wide world.”

  “Sera, why does Daddy hate me?” The words come out in a whisper.

  I gasp; I can’t help it. “Why do you think that?” I back up to look at him in the face, heart knocking against my ribs.

  Matty looks down at his shoes again, refusing to look me in the eye.

  “He never tells me he loves me. I hope he knows I love him.” His baby blues look up at me as he twists his fingers together.

  My entire life I’ve been verbally abused – told I was less than nothing, and I believed it.

  “Of course he loves you, little man. Who wouldn’t? All my friends love you, too. That’s more people than you have fingers on one hand! Do you know how special that is?” I’m saying the words, but he’s not listening. He hears them alright, since he’s nodding at me, but they aren’t sinking in, they aren’t becoming a part of the little boy he’ll grow up to be.

  I need to fix this.

  “C’mon, let’s get you to daycare.” I pick him up, and grateful that Hunter has unlocked the doors for us, get him in his car seat and ready to go. I put my purse in the passenger seat and walk out to meet Hunter who’s still pacing.

  I step in front of him and block his path. His whole body shudders to a stop, like an engine that sputters until its death. I shouldn’t be thinking about death.

  “Let’s get going,” I say, voice low and soothing as much as I can make it.

  Hunter just shakes his head, and jams his fists into his pockets, rocking back on his heels. “Sera, he could have died. God, he could have died.” His big body shakes, and I move closer to wrap my arms around his waist, inserting myself between his arms and his ribs. “He’s all I have left, and he could have died.”

  “But he didn’t. You saved him, Superman. You were incredible, you really were. I’m sorry I couldn’t move. I’ve never reacted that way before.” I listen to the beating of his heart underneath my ear, and wait for his arms to wrap around me.

  “He’s my responsibility. You shouldn’t need to do anything for him.”

  Oh, frak, I don’t like that. I lean back to look at him, push as far back as I can with his hands twined together at the small of my back.

  “I want to help. Jesus, Hunt, I’d do anything for that kid. I love him.” There, I said it.

  “Why?”

  “Why, what? Why do I love him?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  I frown. “Are you serious? Have you met him? He’s like sunshine and chocolate and Peter Pan and all the good things in the world. He’s pure and he’s bright like a star. He’s sweet and kind and knows a little too much of how his diabetes affects him and we’re going to need to change that.” I plant both palms on his pecs, feel the drum of his he
art beneath my fingertips.

  A cruel smile twists Hunt’s lips. “Still think I’m amazing that I nearly lost Matty today?”

  My eyebrows drop down low and I shake my head. “Amazing doesn’t mean infallible. Remember that. Now, come on. I need to get to work, and Matty needs to get to daycare. God, I could sleep for two weeks after what just happened. Adrenaline. Crash.”

  Hunter’s quiet for some time, then he leans closer to me.

  “Wait, what are you doing?” My hands go to his chest to stop him from moving forward. Nerves explode i[]n my belly, tension tightening all my muscles.

  “I need to kiss you, alright?”

  “Uh, in front of Matty? You sure that’s a good idea? God, he’s going to need so much therapy after this.”

  “Sera, I want to kiss you. I need it. Matty is going to see us kissing, like normal couples do. Please, just kiss me. Make me forget the last twenty minutes.”

  Hunter has a way with words. Good to know. I lean up, using his chest as leverage. When our mouths meet, it isn’t the lightest brushing of lips, or us getting accustomed to the feel of the other. No, Hunter’s mouth on mine is hard and demanding, beautiful and luscious.

  My hands reach up for either side of his neck, going into his hair and getting the tickles from his skull-trim along my palms. Hunter lifts me – lifts me up – clear off the floor so that our heights aren’t any different, and I kiss him for all I’m worth.

  I didn’t know so many emotions could change a kiss. A kiss can be desperate, it can be a seduction, even an angry proclamation of dislike. Ours is desperate but the kind of desperation of not having enough time with each other for the moment. Ours is seductive the way our tongues stroke each other, and the way he licks at me, and nips at my lips coaxing me to give him everything he wants. Ours is angry because instead of just giving, I take, too, and right now, Hunter needs to be in control.

  Letting go of his bottom lip, my feet drop down to the ground and I have to stand there, swaying, using him as support before I can collect myself and go back to the car.

  “Have dinner with me tonight.”

  “Can’t. Plans with Katie,” I pant. “I’ll come over and read Matty to bed and kiss you good night.”

  “Deal,” he grins and kisses the tip of my nose. “Shit. I think I need a juice.”

  “Oh, oh! I have one in my purse. Which is in the car.”

  I’m pulled short, my forward momentum halted with a hand at my bicep. I twist around to look at Hunter. “Why do you have a juice in your purse?”

  “I have several juices in my purse, plus sugar tablets. In case you and Matty get lows when we’re together. I’m like the boy scouts, I’m always prepared.” I grin, but lose it when I see the look on his face. ‘What’s the big deal?”

  “I’m...I’m not sure. I guess I’ve been doing it on my own so long, I’m not sure how to react with you having everything ready.” He rubs his head as he opens the passenger door for me. “I’m going to need you to drive. Please.”

  “That I can do. Buckle up.” I walk to the driver’s side and wait for Hunter to hand me the keys after I’ve given him the apple juice box I stowed in my purse. He drinks it in two seconds flat, before I even hit the garage door.

  “I’m gonna drive to work first since I’m running late. You think you’ll be okay to drive Matty to daycare after, or you want me to go there first? Be honest.”

  “I don’t like admitting I need help.”

  I shrug. “Everybody needs help. Even Superman needs Batman’s help once in a while.”

  “Iron Man is better than Batman, Sera.”

  I grin into the rearview mirror at Matty. “You want to get into a rumble kid? Name the time and place.” I get a giggle. All is right in the world again. At least, I hope.

  “Go to work, the juice should kick in by then. If not, I’ll park and wait around another twenty minutes. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  “Sera...why did you kiss Daddy?”

  I almost swallow my tongue and sputter out a cough. “Uh, well, technically,” I say, “he kissed me, so you should be asking him that question.” Evasive maneuvers completed. “Actually, it’s because your dad wants to be my boyfriend.”

  “Is that true, Daddy?” Matty asks, voice floating to us from the backseat. I don’t look at Hunter, but my heart does a little dance, and my throat’s too tight to speak. I’m waiting for his answer.

  Lie to me, Hunter, but never lie to Matty. Never Matty.

  Hunt sighs, settling deeper into the seat. “It’s true, buddy. Is that cool with you?”

  I almost blow through a stop sign before I realize that I need to stop looking at the rearview mirror and trying to study Matty’s face. But I do it anyway, even after I brake hard to catch the stop line in time.

  The little guy’s face is deep in thought, his blue eyes shrewd as he glances at the back of our heads, coming to his decision. My fingers tighten on the steering wheel, and I wonder if I should turn on the A/C to cool myself down. I swear to the Winchesters that I might be having some sort of psychotic break.

  “Does that mean Sera is my mommy now?”

  Oh. Oh, no. I squash down that happy thrill in my gut, and the warmth in my chest, because yes, yes I do want to be his Mom. It would be my honor to be his mom. But isn’t she out there somewhere already? Doesn’t she know who she’s missing out on?

  “How about we say that I’m your Daddy’s girlfriend for now, okay, little man?”

  Checking in the rearview mirror again, I can see his little eyebrows are furrowed over his eyes, and his lips mashed together. A four year old version of a mad face. Too cute to be mad at or take seriously.

  Hunter is quiet beside me, so I keep driving on, fiddling with the radio until Def Leppard’s ‘Pour some sugar on me’ comes on the rock station and Matty starts singing it, all the raunchy lyrics, too.

  Hunter joins me, and the disquiet I felt from before evaporates like it never was.

  I get to work on time, double-park on the side of the road.

  “You feeling better?” I ask, pulling Hunter’s hand into my lap. I rub my thumb along the tips of his fingers – callused and pockmarked with holes.

  He stares at me, blue eyes full of questions. I tilt my head to the side, a silent invitation. His lips press into a thin line, and he rubs his skull-trim with his free hand. When I squeeze his fingers, he doesn’t squeeze back.

  “Still think I’m amazing?” he says, voice almost splintering but his eyes are hard, resolute. He’ll take whatever answer I give him, good or bad, like the warrior he is.

  My heart constricts, and I take a deep breath through my nose. I lean closer to him, tossing Matty a grin when I catch a glimpse of him through the corner of my eye.

  “I don’t kiss losers,” I whisper right before our lips touch. “I kiss only badasses. And you are a badass, Hunter MacLaine.” I kiss him sweet, a touch of lips with the promise of more for later, when we’re alone.

  “Gross!” Matty yells from the back. “You’re hurting my eyes, my eyes!”

  I snicker, and go back to my space of the car, turning off the ignition, and unbuckle my seat belt.

  “You’re hurting my ears with all your yelling, Matty.” I say, twisting to grab at his ankle and tickle his leg. “Do you want me to be Daddy’s girlfriend or not, huh?”

  I shouldn’t’ve asked that. I realize my mistake too late and end up choking back an explanation for the question. Like why I am such a dork, a giant, humongous dork.

  “Only if you read me Harry Potter from here until forever.”

  The moment passes, the tension bleeds out of the car. I didn’t know I was chewing my lip so hard until I taste the tang of blood on my tongue. Super. Goddamn that’s a spectacular answer!

  “I can do that. It’s a promise.”

  I smile at Matty, and move to get out of the car. Leaving the driver’s side open, I move into the backseat door, open it and give Matty a wet kiss and a raspberry on his c
heek. “See you later for Harry’s adventure?”

  “Bye, Sera! Have fun at school!”

  Cute. So cute. He thinks I’m going to school. Adorable.

  I crawl back out, and shut the door. Cars honk at us as I right myself, but I ignore them. I mean, the hazard lights are on. Are you blind?

  The breeze ruffles my hair, and the morning sun beats down on my shoulders. It’s going to be hot today, as in, I’ll be wishing for Montreal winters all day long. I spin around, and find Hunter standing in front of me. His hands go to my waist, warm and comforting. I wait for him to be an asshole, to pinch my fat and sneer in my face, and remind me that I’m going to die alone because who would ever want me? But he doesn’t do that. He never has.

  Instead his thumbs caress up and down my belly, sending sparks into my skin, into my blood. My hands have found his biceps, and are clutching the muscle. More honking from cars that are passing us by. They may as well be all wearing invisibility cloaks for the attention I give them.

  “Sera...” Hunt says, staring at me with such intensity it feels like he knows all my secrets, all my thoughts, everything that is me. He’s stripped me bare with a look and I want to run and hide away, and tell him I can be better, I can look better if he just gives me the chance. No one has looked inside me and has seen the good, has seen the beauty. I’ve always been ugly. Always.

  But Hunter doesn’t make me feel so ugly. He makes me think there’s more to me than just a word, that I’m more than a body and long hair, and hazel eyes. I’m more than that. He sees that, and I think I can start to see it, too.

  His hands at my waist become arms around my upper back, and I have two seconds to twist my neck so my cheek and temple rest on his shoulder before I get a broken nose. A hand pets my hair, from the crown of my head to the middle of my back, only to be done again and again. His lips get to my forehead, touching me there.

  “Hunt? Are you okay?”