A Kiss Like This

by Sara Ney

  If possible, there are even more bodies crowding the hallway than before.

  Caleb is close, leaning in to whisper in my ear. His warm breath against my neck nearly causes me to shiver, but I’m able to resist the urge. Thank God. “It’s not always this bad. The boys are getting it all out of their system before our season starts.”

  I feel his hand on the small of my back as we navigate our way down the long corridor, guiding me as we side-step students along the way, getting shoved and jostled as people stand, dance, and yell to each other over the music—most of them blocking a straight path to the stairwell.

  Eventually, we make it back to our friends, who are standing in the same spot in the living room, creating a small conversation circle near the fireplace.

  I walk over to Jenna and Molly, inserting myself in between them. “What did I miss?” I ask, taking the cup of beer Jenna holds out to me and taking a sip to pacify her. It’s warm and flat, but at this point, I don’t care.

  “Um, no. You don’t get to ask us what you missed. First you tell us where you and Caleb Lockhart disappeared to,” Jenna demands with a mischievous glimmer in her eye, her large silver hoop earrings shining in the dim overhead light.

  “Nowhere. Just the bathroom.” I avoid her eyes and chew on the rim of the red cup.

  Stephan Randolph’s girlfriend, Chelsea, has joined them, tapping Jenna on the arm and giving her a commiserating look. “Just the bathroom. That’s what they all say.”

  “Seriously. He took me to the bathroom. To um, clean me off.” I point to my shirt, which isn’t as damp as it had been. “I mean, specifically, he let me use his bathroom. He didn’t clean me off.” They stare at me and I shake my head, flustered. “You know what I mean.”

  Molly giggles and puts her arm around my shoulders, giving me a reassuring squeeze. “We know what you mean.”

  “He took you up to his bedroom?” Chelsea asks, eyebrows shot up into her forehead.

  I shrug casually but my face is burning up. “It wasn’t a big deal. The line down here was really long. He was being nice.”

  Chelsea smirks. “I’m sorry, Abby, but Showtime doesn’t do nice. He does pissed off. He does angry. He does moody.”

  “Although!” Jenna stabs her forefinger in the air. “Sometimes pissed-off and angry sex is the best kind of sex. Not that you would know, sweetie.” She pats me on the arm.

  Okay, that was kind of mean.

  Frustrated, I grit my teeth and ask, “Would someone please just change the subject?” Before I have a coronary. “Tell me what I missed while I was gone.”

  “All the good stuff. We were just planning a quickie in the Dells. Oops, did that sound naughty?” Jenna winks, taking her cup back and holding it to her lips. “The guys thought it would be fun to rent a cabin near a waterpark next weekend before school ends and they start pre-season training camp.” She takes a drag from her beer. “I personally have always wanted to go to Yogi Bear National Park.”

  Molly rolls her eyes. “I told you, we are not going to Yogi Bear National Park. Stop trying to make Yogi happen.”

  “Why? I made fetch happen.” Jenna smirks.

  “You’re kind of an idiot,” I tease, lips pulled in a big grin. I tilt my head and catch Caleb staring at me from my peripheral view, but he quickly jerks his head away. My stomach plunges, and the butterflies that have recently taken residence in my belly flutter wildly as if they’re trying to break free. “So, um… who’s all going?”

  I can barely get the words out of my throat.

  “Everyone,” Molly replies, giving me a knowing smile. “Blaze and his girlfriend, Shelby, are going to take care of the details. The plan is for everyone to stay in one cabin—if they can find one with enough beds—probably at the Wild Outdoors Resort or something. We’ll split the cost and pitch in for groceries.”

  “Wait.” I halt the conversation. “Blaze has a girlfriend?” He was such a flirt!

  “Yeah. She’s got him on a tight leash, too,” Molly says at the same time Jenna mutters, “Unfortunately.”

  “Anyway,” Molly continues, “if you want to go—and you will go—we have to let Shelby know by tomorrow afternoon so she can call the resort and book the place. It’ll be fun. We’ll hit the waterpark or whatever for a day and sit around playing board games at night.”

  “I call Cards Against Humanity,” Jenna says, grinning wickedly and wiggling her eyebrows. “That game is wicked awesome.” She shoots me a side-glance. “Hey. Since we’re both single, you can be my roomie. I promise to keep the hands to myself in bed.” She makes spirit fingers for emphasis.

  The simple mention of the word bed has me blushing all over again, and I cast a hasty glance at Caleb to make sure he’s not looking our way. “Oh my god, shut up,” I hiss.

  Yes, my reaction is immature, but I can’t stop myself.

  I’m so awkward like that.

  Jenna shrugs. “No, no. I get it—you’re not a cuddler.”

  Alright, I’ll admit it—I begin laughing. I mean, she’s completely and utterly ridiculous. And outlandish. And inappropriate. And let’s not forget crude—but all in a fun-loving, hard-to-resist kind of way. Jenna would never embarrass me on purpose… Well, she would (and has), but it’s always (usually) entertaining, and she’s never hurt my feelings.

  I give in to her playful banter with a chuckle and take the beer out of her hand. “Fine. You can cuddle me.”

  “Well, I mean, unless Caleb over there makes a move, which…” She assesses him from across the room, tapping her chin. “Ugh, the odds don’t look favorable. I bet his dick has moss growing on it.”

  See what I mean about her being inappropriate?

  “Jenna!” Molly gasps. “Do you have to be so crude? Jeez.”

  Jenna shrugs again, shamelessly. “What? What did I say? Look, I did some digging, and it sounds like the guy is a hermit. Doesn’t date, keeps to himself. Quiet.” She digs in her pocket and pulls out a mint, popping it in her mouth and tilting her head thoughtfully. “It seems like he’s into you. I see him watching you. But if you say he didn’t try to make a move after getting you upstairs…”

  They look at me questioningly, and I shake my head in confirmation.

  “Right? Okay. What guy passes up the chance to get freaky-deaky when he’s got a girl in his room? I mean, how much beer is it gonna take for him to loosen up?”

  “He’s got a perpetual case of the grumpies,” Chelsea says.

  We all turn our eyes toward Caleb, who stands ramrod straight amongst his friends, frowning at something a blonde-haired guy wearing a knit beanie is saying.

  Jenna nods, somewhat authoritative, feeling that she’s proved her point. “See what she means?”

  Molly agrees. “Yeah, chances are he’s not even going to come.” Jenna snorts and Molly gasps, shaking her head and laughing. “To the Dells! Come to the Dells, not come in his, ugh, I didn’t mean… You know what. Never mind. What I meant was, I don’t think he likes crowds. Being cooped up in a cabin with however many people probably isn’t his thing.”

  Jenna pokes at me with her forefinger. “But it’s our thing, and you’re our friend—so you, my dear, are coming with us.”

  ~ Caleb ~

  “Did you hear me, bro? You are coming next weekend,” Miles Turner says, nudging me in the ribs with his behemoth arm. He’s been standing next to me since I came back downstairs, too close for comfort, with his hulky frame and complete lack of social skills. “No excuses.”

  “And by coming, he literally hopes you’re coming,” Blaze says from across the circle. “Get it?”

  Miles nods. “Agreed. We’re not going to let you hole up another weekend fixing shit around the house. Besides, do you really want to give dipshit here a shot at Walk of Shame?” Miles throws his thumb in Cubby’s direction. “She keeps looking over at you.”

  I resist the urge to look.

  Blaze nods in agreement. “And she’s doing a shitty job being covert about it. On second
thought, maybe you should stay home. You know Aaron Beaumont thinks she’s pretty damn cute, too—if you like the scared-as-shit virgin vibe she’s got going on.”

  “Oh, come on now. We don’t know for sure that she’s a virgin,” Weston charitably chimes in, coming to Abby’s defense.

  Not that she has anything to defend.

  Being a virgin isn’t the crime they’re making it out to be.

  Aaron disagrees. “Nope. Pretty sure she is a virgin. I mean, look at her. Crossed arms that scream ‘no entry,’ that shirt my mom wore to church last Sunday… those jeans.”

  Everyone’s heads crane toward Abby’s denim-clad figure. I run a palm down the front of my face, trying not to lose my shit.

  “What’s wrong with those jeans?” Cubby asks, confused, beer halted halfway to his mouth.

  Aaron shakes his head ruefully. “Isn’t it obvious? They’re button fly. That’s worse than a chastity belt. Good luck getting into those babies.”

  Just when I think my friends can’t get any dumber, Miles nods. “Yeah, good point.”

  “Althoughhhhhh… the wet shirt thing is pretty fucking hot. Ten points for originality,” Blaze adds, reaching over to grab a potato chip from a random bowl perched precariously on the fireplace mantel, and shoving it in his mouth. “Plus, I can’t help but notice she’s got great set of tits—like peaches on a windowsill. Fuzzy navel.” He looks around guiltily and leans in. “Shit. Did I say that out loud? Don’t tell Shelby I said that.”

  “Hey, Showtime, do you really wanna miss the opportunity to see those virgin tittays in a bikini top this weekend?” Aaron prods with a sneer.

  God, they’re pigs.

  I grit my teeth but say nothing and force myself not to look over at Abby, who has been obliviously chatting away with Weston McGrath’s girlfriend and some chick with purple and blonde hair while I stand here listening to my friends running their mouths about her fantastic, um, assets.

  Jesus Christ, I can’t even say the word in my head. What am I, five?

  “I take it, by the deafening radio silence, you’re thinking about going,” Blaze jokes, taking a swig from his bottle of Corona.

  “Don’t think, just feel,” Weston advises, closing his eyes and putting a palm over his heart.

  Aaron turns to him. “Wow. That made you sound like a goddamn pussy.”

  Weston grins. “Your sister wasn’t complaining last night.”

  “Oh, funny guy’s got jokes,” Aaron grits through his busted-up teeth. “My sister is fourteen, pickle dick.”

  “Alright, alright, enough. So, Lockhart, what’s it going to be?”

  In the end I agree, just to get them to shut the fuck up…

  At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

  CHAPTER 11

  Abby

  Because the number of people who actually end up committing to the waterpark cabin weekend is so many, Shelby and Bryan end up booking our group two rustic log cabins, side by side, nestled in the woods a short walking distance from the actual waterpark, and a three-hour drive from campus.

  There are thirteen of us in all—mostly hockey players and their girlfriends.

  I don’t really mind having been railroaded by my friends to shell out one hundred and twenty bucks of my hard-earned cash to share a bed with Jenna—but a double bed? Not a king, not a queen—a freaking double. Just so you know, that’s only a tad bigger than a twin, and my idea of a good time is not sharing it with a self-proclaimed bed hog.

  Seriously. Shoot me now. Please. I’m begging.

  As I throw the last of my crap into a small carry-on suitcase and struggle to zip it shut, Meg pokes her head into my bedroom, her lively green eyes surveying the bag skeptically. “Er, that seems like a lot of stuff for such a short weekend.”

  Blowing a puff of air at the stray hair in my face in frustration, I sigh. “I know, I know. But since the weather isn’t hot and it’s not cold…” I shrug helplessly. “I wasn’t really sure what to bring, know what I mean?”

  I’m not about to mention that a certain someone might be going, and for once in my life, I want to have wardrobe options.

  “Um, yeah. But it’s still a lot of crap.”

  “Whatever, just get over here and hold this closed.”

  Meg walks over and places both palms on top of the red luggage I got for high school graduation three years ago, gives it a few good shoves, and squishes it down into my mattress. At that moment, Jenna waltzes into the room with her car keys jingling from her index finger. She gives them a shake.

  “Why aren’t you ready?” she asks with a long sigh, like I’m a disobedient child. “We’re carpooling with Molly and Weston and have to be at the Omega house in ten, so get your ass in gear.” Her eyes go to Meg struggling with my suitcase. “Is that tiny carry-on all you’re bringing?”

  Meg loudly huffs in Jenna’s direction as I finally get my zipper to successfully glide all the way around the suitcase. “No comment.”

  “Grab my pillow, will ya?” I point to it on the bed. “I just have to run to the bathroom quick, and we can be on our way.”

  Three hours later—after the most aggravating car ride of my life—we pull off the interstate, drive our way through the Waterpark Capitol of America, and pull into the gravel driveway of the resort Shelby booked for us. We find a spot at the main office, and Weston runs in, emerging a few short minutes later without a set of keys.

  “What’s going on?” Molly asks him from the passenger seat, digging her hand into a bag of Jelly Bellys and picking through to find the cotton-candy-flavored ones. They’re her favorite.

  Climbing back into the truck, Weston turns to check his blind spots as he starts the ignition and puts the truck in reverse. “Everyone else is already here and checked us in, so we’re all set. The cottages are another few minutes down this road.”

  My anxiety level increases exponentially as we hit a gravel road moments later, and Weston slows the truck down so we’re not kicking up dust. Quaint log cabins line the road, set back a few yards from the tree lined avenue, and are far from humble.

  Since I’m shelling out so much for the two-night stay this weekend, I’m secretly pleased that from the outside, the cabins appear to be worth every penny.

  Rather than house numbers, each abode is indicated with a sign above the door.

  Our home for the weekend is named “Bear Claw.”

  We pull into a short parking spot, and when Weston puts the truck in park, he takes his phone from the cup holder and thumbs through the texts. Still looking at the screen of his smartphone, he says, “Abby, I guess Shelby’s got you rooming in the cabin next door with Jenna?” He says it likes it’s a question. “Let’s all go in and say hello before you head next door to put all your stuff away.”

  I nod and brace myself, ready for whatever the weekend holds.

  ~ Caleb ~

  I can hear them before I see them—the newest arrivals—even above all the loud chatter and commotion in the cabin, and I tense at my place by the sink, where I’m helping Shelby unpack the groceries we brought down.

  Voices sound from the front entry hall, greetings and salutations exchanged as Weston, Molly, Jenna, and Abby descend into the main family room, where a fireplace is roaring—despite the fifty degrees outside.

  Cubby just couldn’t resist.

  As I rip open a bag of chips and pour them into the large red serving bowl Shelby plunked down in front of me, she gives me a sidelong glance from the sink, where she’s cutting up a tomato for some taco dip. “So…?” She lets her voice trail off suggestively.

  I blink back.

  She cocks her head at me and plants a hand on her hip. “Well?” Now she’s got her eyebrows shooting up into her hairline, and she’s gazing at me expectantly as holds the pronged knife that’s now dripping tomato juice on the tile floor.

  I’m confused as shit right now.

  “Well… what?”

  Shelby rolls her eyes and goes back to cutting
the tomato. “You know.”

  “Pretty sure I don’t.”

  “Oh, please. Hello… Abby is here. Are you nervous?”

  I grab the shredded cheese that has been sitting on the counter in front of me, resisting the urge to rip the thin plastic bag in half like the Incredible Hulk and wondering how the fuck I got stuck helping her prepare the snacks to begin with. “Nervous about what?”

  Shelby waves a hand airily to and fro then flips her long platinum-blonde hair flippantly before lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Blaze told me you haven’t made a pass at her yet, and we all see the way you watch her. We don’t know what you’re waiting for.”

  Fucking. Blaze.

  “Oh, Blaze told you that, huh?” I hiss, glaring at her. The thing is, she doesn’t look the least bit put out by my mood swing. Or maybe she’s just that dumb. Or maybe she just doesn’t give a crap.

  Another hair flip. “Um, yeah. He tells me everything. Cause, hello.” She strikes a pose, inviting me to ogle her by propping her knife-free hand on her hip, sticking out her impressive artificial chest and making a duck face with her cherry-red lips.

  “I’m speechless,” I mutter, mostly to myself.

  “Why, thank you.” She takes that as a compliment and preens a little. “Listen. Can I give you some advice?’

  “As if I could stop you,” I respond dryly without the barest hint of a smile.

  Shelby gives a twinkly laugh. “You’re so hilarious.” She begins spreading the diced tomatoes evenly onto the taco dip tray, and continues. “Can you hand me that bag of cheese? Thanks. Anyway, as I was saying—just some friendly advice, since you’re Blaze’s best friend and all—”

  “I am?” Since when?

  She laughs again like I’m the funniest guy. “Just try smiling this weekend, ‘kay? You look so angry all the time. We don’t want you scaring the poor girl away.”

  Here we go again with the we.

  “Is that your friendly advice?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Well… yeah.”

  I suddenly feel really bad for Blaze, because Shelby can be such an airhead sometimes. Don’t get me wrong; most of the time she’s a real sweetheart, but sometimes I worry the elevator doesn’t go all the way to the top floor. But what she said made me think, and I glance back to where Abby stands, hovering on the fringes of the kitchen, looking as uncomfortable as I feel, even surrounded by her friends.