by Anne Malcom
Killian squeezed my hand. “I’m glad you’ve got that, Lexie. You deserve to have that.”
I squeezed his hand back. “I’m glad you’ve got the club,” I whispered. “You don’t just deserve that, you deserve more.”
Killian leaned over so his body hovered over mine and his hand rested lightly on my hip. “I’ve got more, Freckles,” he said against my mouth.
Before we could say anything else, his mouth settled over mine and he kissed me. It was like the kiss in the car, different than any other one we’d ever had. Heat built in my stomach as the kiss lasted longer than any other we’d ever had. Killian’s hand on my hip felt like a branding iron and his body hovering over mine swallowed me into beautiful oblivion. I didn’t think about anything but how I could live in this moment forever. That I could kiss Killian forever.
I made an embarrassing sound at the back of my throat to protest his lips leaving mine. They didn’t go far. He still hovered above me, and I could feel his fractured breathing on my face. His body tightened and he was still and silent, lingering like that for a split second. Then, to my dismay, he sat up, gently pulling me with him.
“It’s almost ten,” he said in a flat voice. “We’ve got to get you home.”
And without even looking at me, he stood and gathered the scattered containers.
I was confused at the distance that seemed to yawn in front of us when we had been so close moments before. I pushed myself up, rolling the sleeves of his leather jacket up so I could help. I inhaled the scent of him for a moment. He’d given it to me when the night air began to bite through the thin fabric of my shirt. Just like the movies.
Though now the movie-like perfection of our date was shattered as we packed up in silence. I fought back tears as Killian barely looked in my direction when he grabbed the things I handed him, walking to the car to put them back.
I followed him, doubt crippling me as he opened the passenger door to let me in. The silence followed us from the outcrop into the car as he navigated the dirt road in the darkness and led us back onto the winding road at the top. I fiddled with my fingers the whole time, sneaking glances at him. When the headlights of another car illuminated his face, I saw it was tight and hard, and his knuckles were white as he gripped his steering wheel.
I couldn’t stand this anymore. “Am I a bad kisser?” I blurted, red creeping up my cheeks the moment the words left my mouth.
Killian’s head snapped to me for a second. “What?” he clipped out.
“Am I a bad kisser?” I repeated, completing my mortification, but I was determined. “Because this was... wonderful, until the kiss and now you’re not speaking to me.”
Killian didn’t answer, but the atmosphere in the car changed, and he pulled off the road, parking on the shoulder, just before we entered town proper. He turned off the engine and leaned over to clasp my neck.
“In no universe could the way you kiss be described as bad,” he murmured, his voice rough and soft at the same time. “Kissing you, Freckles, tasting how sweet you are...” He trailed off, his hands flexing at my neck. “It’s good. The best kind of sweet I’ve ever tasted in my bitter life. That’s the problem,” he explained.
My heart was beating out of my chest as his words chased away the doubt, but I was confused. “How is that a problem?” I managed to choke out.
“It’s a problem ‘cause I don’t have experience with sweet, with good. I’ve just realized how precious that is. How precious you are. How different to me you are. You’re innocent.”
I blushed even more. In fact, I was pretty sure my whole body turned crimson. He knew. Of course he knew. I’d told him he was my first kiss.
“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Killian said firmly, reading my mind. “It’s beautiful, babe. I just need to remember that. Go slow. Savor the sweet.”
My breathing quickened. That was pretty much the most beautiful thing anyone had ever said to me. It’s like every scene from my favorite love stories had jumped off the page, melded together, and formed this boy.
“So I’m not a bad kisser,” I stated, deciding not to articulate just how much I was tumbling, falling for him.
Killian paused and I felt his smile. “No, Freckles. You’re not a bad kisser.” He kissed my head and leaned back over. “Now that we’ve clarified that, I need to get you home so your mom will let me take you out again. ‘Cause I plan to. A lot,” he said, his voice firm.
I smiled as he pulled back onto to the road, and of its own accord, my hand found his and rested both of ours on my thigh. It felt strange, beautifully strange being that bold.
Too soon, we pulled up outside my house. The lights blazed and I had no doubt Mom would most likely be pressing her nose up against the window. I moved my glance to Killian, who was staring at me—no, not at me, into me. I felt like he could see everything. It was ridiculous, I knew. It was our first date. But then again, things like this didn’t adhere to things as trivial as logic.
“So I’m going to have to give Guinness Records a call,” I told him seriously.
Killian’s face changed, and he looked confused but amused. “I don’t follow, Freckles.”
“Well, they’re going to have to knock some poor shmuck off the top and replace this as the best first date in the history of their records,” I explained with a smile.
Killian grinned, and then he glanced over at my house. “You can’t say things like that when I can’t kiss you. Don’t think your mom would want to see that,” he joked, though there was a heat in his eyes.
I smiled shyly. I felt a little triumph over the fact the things I said made Killian want to kiss me, that he was saying things like that. To me.
He leaned over and kissed my head, lingering for a moment. “See you at school, Freckles,” he murmured.
I glanced at him through my lashes. “Yeah, school,” I repeated, having trouble stringing a sentence together.
After tearing myself away from the car, I struggled not to look at him over my shoulder the entire walk to my door. I knew he was watching me because I didn’t hear his car roar away until I had sunk against the closed door.
The next day, I woke up with a smile on my face, which remained the entire morning at school as I seemed to float from class to class. I had known that last night was amazing, special, beyond anything, but Emma had cemented it when I called her when I got home.
“Tell me again about what he said when he pulled off the road when you asked if you were a bad kisser,” she had commanded dreamily.
I had told her. In detail. Twice. I had gone from wanting to keep the secret of Killian and me just between us to needing to dissect it with my girlfriend. A girlfriend who, I might add, never spoke dreamily on the phone. So I knew I’d fallen into something special. It didn’t matter we were both in high school, and you weren’t meant to find such things at this age. That most people would brush off such notions on account of my age and inexperience. None of it mattered. Not when I just knew.
Killian was leaning outside the door as I left calculus, not holding any books or maintaining any illusion that he was here for school’s intended purpose. In fact, when his eyes found mine, I had the ridiculous notion that I was his purpose for being here.
He stepped forward, taking my books out of my hands and slinging his arm around my shoulder, kissing my head. “Hey, Freckles,” he greeted, oblivious to the multitude of stares we were getting, like it was just him and me and no one else existed in the universe.
“Hey, Kill,” I replied, deciding to follow his lead and let the various stares melt away. “Did you actually attend any classes this morning?” I asked as we entered the cafeteria and Killian directed us toward what was ours, the bands, unofficial table.
He grinned down at me. “Yes, in fact, I did,” he said with a grin.
“Why do I feel like that’s not true?” I teased as we sat down at the empty table.
“Why, I’m offended you think so little of me, Freckles,” he replie
d in mock hurt.
“It’s not how little I think of you. It’s how little you think of the educational institution,” I shot back.
“Oooh, first domestic,” Sam cooed, placing his tray down on the table. “Twenty bucks on Lexie,” he told Wyatt, who sat beside him.
I scowled at him.
“I can be the one to back up Kill,” Wyatt interrupted. “He was at biology this morning, much to Mr. Morton’s dismay.”
“Dismay?” I repeated, placing two containers on the table. I handed one to Killian.
He raised his brows at me in question.
“Lunch,” I explained. I didn’t want it to be a big deal, me making lunch for him, but the way his eyes turned liquid made me think it was a big deal to him. In a way that made my stomach turn warm.
“What? We’re your beloved bandmates and the key to your success, how is it Killian gets that”—he nodded to the container—“and we’re stuck with a mysterious and disgusting hamburger, which may or may not contain meat?”
I grinned at him. “’Cause Killian’s prettier than you,” I joked.
Sam’s eyes widened as if I’d actually hit him.
Killian’s hand went to my neck and he pulled me close. “You can’t call me pretty, Freckles, damages my street cred. Go for hauntingly handsome if you must,” he murmured in my ear, his breath tickling my neck.
He released me with a grin and I flat out laughed.
“What’s so funny?” Noah asked, setting his tray down, looking between Killian and me skeptically and reluctantly returning his chin lift.
Sam turned to him. “Be honest. Who do you think’s more attractive, me or Killian?” he asked, ignoring Noah’s question.
Noah’s face paled and I knew why. “Why are you asking me?” he asked, his voice hard.
Sam didn’t catch the change in atmosphere. I didn’t think anyone did, apart from me. I was the only one who guessed at Noah’s secret.
“Because,” Sam drawled, “Lexie has informed me that Killian is better looking, therefore he gets lunch made while we are risking heart disease and food poisoning with this muck.”
Noah’s face changed imperceptibly and his shoulders relaxed. “Lexie’s dating him. I think that comes into the equation.”
Sam frowned. “That’s not answering the question.”.
“For fuck’s sake. Killian’s better looking,” Wyatt said through a mouthful of food. “I’m not saying that ‘cause I fancy you, bro,” he reassured Killian, who was grinning. “It’s on the information that you’ve snagged the hottest girl in school.”
Killian’s hand found mine.
“You think I’m the hottest girl in school?” I asked in disbelief.
Wyatt raised his eyebrows. “You passed a mirror lately?”
Sam nodded. “Hottest in school. By far,” he agreed.
Noah nodded. “Never thought I’d say this, but Sam’s right,” he said between bites.
I rolled my eyes, fighting my blush. “Whatever,” I brushed their comments off.
Killian leaned into my ear once more. “Not just the school, Freckles. Whole town,” he murmured before turning his attention to the lunch I made him.
“Okay, what were we talking about? Mr. Morton’s dismay, I believe,” I addressed the table, changing the subject.
Wyatt laughed. “It was gold, Lexie, I tell you. I’ve never seen his face get that red.”
I glanced at Killian. “What did you do?” I asked, waiting for a story of how he set a curtain on fire.
Killian shrugged, turning his attention to his lunch. “Merely pointed out the shortcomings of his hypothesis,” he mumbled.
“You did more than point out shortcomings. You totally called him out on his mistake. Bro, you could teach that class,” Wyatt expanded.
I raised my eyebrows and felt a pang at my first guess.
Killian shrugged again. “He’s an idiot. It’s not hard to see that.”
Wyatt seemed to sense Killian’s reluctance to talk about how brilliant he was, so he changed the subject. I found Killian’s thigh under the table and gave it a squeeze. His dark gaze settled on me. We stared at each other a moment, then were dragged into conversation by Sam.
I floated on cloud nine for the rest of the day.
****
“You’re willing to delay shopping in order to talk to a boy?” Mom asked in horror.
I grinned at her and patted her arm, not responding, but turning so I could call the boy in question.
Mom had picked me up from school and decided to take us shopping in Hope, the next town over. She merciless teased me about how I looked lovelorn and dreamy. I barely argued. I was too busy floating in happiness. Her teasing was good-natured, and no disapproval seemed to lurk underneath it. Only disapproval in me delaying shopping in order to invite Killian to the movies later on.
“Freckles,” he greeted after I had dialed.
“Hey, Kill,” I said, looking at the shop window. “You’re not busy are you?”
There was a pause and a clanging in the background. I guessed Killian was at the Sons of Templar garage, where he worked every day after school and on the weekends.
“Never too busy for you, Lexie.”
I smiled at the store window. “Well, I hope that means you can come to the movies tonight with Mom and me. Though, I think it’s only fair to warn you you’ve never had a movie experience quite like one with the Spencer girls. It’s life changing,” I informed him.
I expected a chuckle at the other end of the phone, but there was only silence.
Shoot.
“You want me to come to the movies with you and your mom?” he asked finally.
My stomach dropped. “Yeah, I mean, only if you want to. You don’t have to. I understand if you don’t want to come,” I said, quickly trying to hide my disappointment.
“I want to come,” he replied, with something strange in his tone I couldn’t distinguish over the phone.
I sagged in relief. “Okay, good. I’ll text you the details. I’ve got to go before Mom has me drawn and quartered. We’re shopping in Hope, and I’ve committed the crime of calling you instead of letting her loose on the general public,” I joked.
“You’re in Hope?” Kill bit out, his voice hard and alert.
My smile fell slightly. “Yeah, why?”
I was sure I heard a muttered curse. “Nothing, Freckles. It’s just... you remember what I said about not trusting anyone else wearing a cut?” he asked tightly.
“Yeah,” I replied, slowly, confused. “Why? What’s going on?”
“Just make sure you do that, Freckles. I’ll meet you in Hope as soon as I can get away,” he promised.
“Okkkayy,” I dragged the word out, feeling something prickle at the back of my neck at his words, at the urgent tone.
“Be careful,” he commanded.
“Yeah, I’ll be careful not to let my mom empty the whole store,” I joked, not knowing how much trouble we could get into in a vintage clothing store.
Killian didn’t laugh. “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he promised. Then he hung up.
I screwed up my nose, staring down at my phone. I shrugged my shoulders. I guessed sometimes boys were a mystery. When I turned, I wondered whether Killian was damn clairvoyant. In front of me, speaking to Mom, were a cluster of men who were wearing motorcycle vests like the cuts the Sons of Templar wore. Though they were nothing like the men I’d met at the Sons of Templar. They were rougher, a lot rougher.
I stepped forward. “Mom?” I asked, not wanting to show the extent of my uneasiness in front of men like this.
I felt the weight of various gazes on me, and my skin crawled.
“Hey, sweetie. Shit, you’re almost as pretty as your momma,” a bearded man greeted me, his beady eyes focused on me.
I swallowed, giving Mom a quick glance. I met his eyes with what I hoped was confidence. “Thanks,” I replied.
I didn’t miss the way Mom had positioned her body in fro
nt of me as if I needed protecting. I had never been this uneasy before, with the realization that Mom most likely couldn’t protect me, or either of us, against any of these guys, if my first impression of them was anything to go by.
The bearded man moved his attention to Mom. “You need to let Bull know he shouldn’t be letting his woman and her pretty little daughter walk the streets alone. It’s not safe for girls like you,” he said. I didn’t miss the falseness of his concern, the threat that lingered underneath it. “Let him know you ran into Logan and we’re happy to keep an eye on you both.” I felt his eyes move to me once more. “More than happy,” he added.
He tipped an imaginary hat at us, and just like that, he and the men with him turned their backs and sauntered to their motorcycles on the curb.
Mom and I both stared at them, and Killian’s warning rang in my ears. It was my first experience of encountering people who made me truly feel unsafe. My first time understanding that the bad things on the news and in the papers actually happened to people. Actually could happen to me.
****
“Those guys today, they were bad guys, weren’t they?” I asked Killian as he handed me popcorn, putting his hand on the small of my back while he managed to juggle two drinks. It was impressive.
His dark gaze found mine as we walked toward the theater. “Yeah, Freckles,” he bit out the answer. His voice was soft but his face was granite.
It was just me and Kill at the movies. Mom was at home with an angry-looking Zane. A murderous-looking Zane. He turned up at the store in Hope about an hour into our shopping expedition. Along with what looked like half of the club, who escorted us all the way home. Yes, escorted us. I wasn’t an idiot; I knew what this meant. What Kill had obviously told Zane and that it must have been something serious to have him turning up to a vintage shop and going home with us. I hoped he wasn’t mad at Mom, like he looked like he was when we left for the movies after Mom declared she and Zane needed to have a “chat.”
“That guy, Logan, he said he knew Zane,” I continued as we walked.