A Kiss Like This

by Sara Ney

  The curtains inside billow and wrap around my face when my waist is jackknifed over the side, half in, half out. I grunt, pulling myself forward, and fall into the dark room, bringing the curtains, curtain rod, and tiebacks crashing down with me in the process.

  “What the fuck!” A loud screech comes from the dark recesses, followed by fumbling, banging, and a light being thrown on.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” A voice that is most certainly not Abby’s shouts down at me from my position on the ground, and I stiffen as angry footsteps approach from the other side of the room.

  Did I mention it’s a room that is most certainly not Abby’s?

  Shit, fuck, shit.

  “Caleb?”

  I look up into Jenna’s shocked face.

  “Um. Yeah?”

  “What the hell are you doing? God, you’re such a jackass.” She throws her arm out and reaches for my hand. “Get up, you idiot.”

  “Sorry.” I take her hand and she helps pull me up, but I stumble, my ankles wrapped in a heap of twisted curtains. “Shit, sorry.” Bending, I push down the gauzy purple fabric, yanking from under my feet and stepping out of the tangled chaos.

  “You’re so lucky I didn’t shoot your sorry ass.” Jenna props her foot out, and my eyes flicker up and down her body; she’s only wearing thong underwear and a tight, sheer half tank. Fuck.

  “You have a gun?” I spit out in a near screech, incredulously, averting my eyes.

  “I have a Taser. But it’s hot pink and I’ve been dying to shoot someone with it. Bummer that’s it’s only you.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Yeah, so you keep saying.” Throwing on a short leopard-print robe that reaches her thighs, she ties the belt into a knot and turns to face me, arms crossed. “You really, seriously suck at this relationship crap, do you know that?”

  Like I needed a reminder.

  She continues. “Honestly, I’ve never seen such a bumbling mess.”

  “Thanks.” Because really, what else is there to say?

  “But it’s actually kind of sweet.”

  My ears perk up.

  “Even if you’re a little old to be so clueless.”

  My shoulders sag.

  “It’s a good thing we’re dealing with Abby here and not someone more sophisticated. She eats this shit up.”

  Right. Okay, then. “Do you want me to help you with this?” I turn, bending to grab some of the curtains from the carpet.

  “Dear God, no. Just go. Get the hell out of here.”

  I gesture back and forth from the door to the window uncertainly. “Do you think I should…?”

  Jenna rolls her eyes skyward. “Yes, go back out the window. If you knock on her door from the hallway it won’t be as romantic. Trust me.” She walks over and grabs the curtains out of my hands. “But take that stupid hat and hoodie off. She’s going to think she’s about to be raped.”

  “Thanks for the tip.”

  “Um, excuse me, was that sarcasm?” Jenna narrows her eyes. “You want me to Taser your ass?”

  Wait. What? Panicking, my hands go up in a surrender. “No! I’m going. Jesus, stop trying to find an excuse to Taser me. I’m going.”

  ***

  Abby: I THINK THERE’S SOMEONE OUTSIDE MY WINDOW!

  Cecelia: Do you want us to come over?????!!! Call 9-1-1

  Abby: This is FREAKING ME THE F OUT.

  Abby: Know what? I’m just going to yell for Jenna. She just bought that Taser gun from some guy in an alley downtown.

  Cecelia: Oh great. It’s probably a black market Taser that shoots STUN darts.

  Cecelia: Um… I was just talking to Matthew and he says to wait on calling the cops…

  Abby: Why would he tell me not to call the cops????

  Cecelia: Remember that time he pretended to be a creeper at MY door in the middle of the night? Thought he was being romantic in a Shakespearean kind of way but really just scared the ever-loving SHIT out of me?

  CHAPTER 32

  Abby

  I hear the familiar grunt again, accompanied by the sound of metal being scraped along the side of my windowpane.

  “Go. In. God. Dammit,” the voice curses gruffly in a huff, doing God only knows what to my window, a dim light flickering through my curtains, aimed at the bottom righthand corner of my window.

  I bite my lip and pull the blanket up to my chin, debating.

  I would know that voice anywhere.

  Throwing back my blankets, I smooth down the shirt I’m wearing—Caleb’s shirt, the one I was wearing the last time I was with him, um, intimately. My legs are bare, but I move across the room toward the window, my heart beating so wildly in my chest that I pause, and press a hand to my breast to steady it.

  The action does little to soothe me.

  Pulling back the curtains, I unlatch the lock and crank open the window.

  Crouching, I speak through the screen. “Caleb.”

  “Holy shit, Jesus Christ! Abby, you scared the piss out of me.”

  I ignore his startled litany of profanity and bring a hand to cover my mouth, chuckling. It feels good to laugh.

  “I scared you? You’re the one trying to break into my room.”

  “Yup.” His low, grumbly voice rises out of the dark, but he sounds oddly pleased with himself. “Wanna help me up?”

  It only takes me a few seconds to decide my next course of action. Reaching down, I pop the screen out of its frame, then stand back as Caleb counts out a few bounces on his heels, and, like a gymnast, hoists himself up using only the strength from his upper torso.

  Drool.

  He hangs over the window frame, grunting, before falling to my carpet in a heap inside my bedroom.

  I walk backwards in the dark and sit on the edge of my bed as he steadies himself and rises to his feet. Kicking off his shoes, he neatly arranges them next to the closet door.

  The uncertainty of the situation while he busies himself is killing me, so I adjust my position on the bed restlessly, pressing my palms to my flaming-hot face.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask nervously when he stands at his full height, his tall frame silhouetted by the full moon lingering high in the night sky.

  He hesitates. “Isn’t it obvious?”

  Well, yes, when you put it that way…

  I groan inwardly.

  “Do you have a small light we can turn on?” he asks, crossing the room. “Not the overhead light. I just want… I have to see your face.”

  “Yes, m-my desk light, maybe?” I stand, careful to avoid contact with him. I feel my way through the dark to the little white light clamped to my IKEA desk and click the switch. A dim light casts pallor over the room.

  I turn to face Caleb, whose imposing figure swallows up all the space in room, and I nervously flop down on the edge of my bed.

  He approaches slowly then sinks to his knees in front of me.

  ~ Caleb ~

  I sink to my knees in front of her, needing her to see me, and place my palms on her smooth, bare knees. It doesn’t occur to me to ask permission, but when she doesn’t pull away, my heart encourages me to power forward.

  “God, Abby, I’m so sorry.” I risk a glance at her face, and she’s staring at me slack-jawed. “I’m such an ass.”

  Her head tilts to the side as she silently watches me.

  “Right after you climbed out that window, when you stormed away, that’s when I found your ring. It was shining in the sun, and I went to your cousin’s. He would have given it to you, but—” I run a hand under my hat, nervously before I continue “—I wanted to see you again. So I kept it.

  “At first, I had it in my pocket. You know, just in case I ran into you. Then, when I finally did see you out, either I was with Blaze, or my friends, or I was just ashamed to admit I had it. That day you stormed out of the yard, and I walked you home, all I could think about was being in that moment with you.”

  As I babble on, Abby’s lips part on a sigh when I run m
y large hands aimlessly up and down her bare thighs, stroking them gently.

  “It didn’t even occur to me after that. Well, okay, maybe it did a few times. Not even when you were in my room; because you were in my room. Clearly I did not handle that well.” I clear my throat. “When you’re around, I become… God, I don’t know. Not that the ring wasn’t important—that isn’t it at all. The truth is you’re literally all I can think about. I forget everything else—I fucking adore you. I want to make this work.”

  “Abby?” Pausing, I let out a deep breath, wishing she’d say something. “Abby? Is this making any sense, or am I fucking this up, too?”

  ~ Abby ~

  He says my name in a tortured whisper, and I watch, spellbound, as his big, strong hands caress my legs.

  I’m so stunned I don’t even know what to say. Everything I know about boys does not add up to this moment.

  “Abby? Is this making any sense or am I fucking this up, too?”

  Bravely, I raise my eyes and look into his face—his serious, broody, sweet face—peering up at me from his spot on the carpet, from under the brim of his ball cap. I take in his five o’clock shadow and the downturned curve of his full lips.

  It’s just barely a pout.

  I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything.

  I show him.

  Reaching forward, I remove his baseball hat and throw it into the dark pit of my bedroom. It lands with a soft thud on the carpet as I lift my arms and run all ten fingers through his thick, shaggy black hair.

  He shutters, closing his chocolate-brown eyes and tilting his cheek toward my palm, nuzzling with an audible groan. “Abby, don’t be mad at me anymore,” he whispers again. “It was an accident.”

  I know his intention isn’t to be funny, but a giggle escapes my lips as I finger the loose locks of his silky hair when he drops his head into my lap. “Oh, Caleb,” I whisper back. “What am I supposed to do with you?”

  “Whatever you do, just don’t stop touching me,” he moans. “God, I missed you.”

  I’d be lying if I said those four words weren’t the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me. Sad, but true. “But we’ve only known each other for… what. Three or four weeks?”

  He stops caressing my legs and lifts his head, those dark eyes boring deep down into my soul. “Does a timeline really have anything to do with how you feel about me?”

  “N-no,” I stutter, then take a steadying breath. “No. You’re right, of course it doesn’t. I don’t know why I even said that.”

  His fingers trace circles on my thighs, and I fight back a shiver.

  “Because you’re scared.”

  “Yes.”

  His mouth hitches at the corner and his hooded eyes sparkle. “Not as scared as I am.” He lowers his head and plants kisses on both my knees, one at a time. “I almost threw up in the bushes outside.”

  “What!” I laugh quietly. “You did not.”

  “I said almost. And yeah, I was so nervous I almost hurled my guts out.”

  “Poor baby.” I take his head in my hands and pull him forward, between my parted legs, resting my lips on his forehead. His arms slide around my waist and his hands immediately begin stroking my back, painstakingly gentle.

  “Abby?”

  “Yes?”

  “I have a confession to make: I accidentally climbed into Jenna’s room first.” His muffled laughter quivers against my chest, doing funny things to my girl parts.

  I shove him away in shock. “What?” I practically shout. “Are you serious? How—what did she do?”

  “Well,” he responds slowly, a huge grin spreading across his face. “You know how Jenna is. Of course she threated to shoot me. But that was before she knew it was me.”

  “Oh my God, that girl is crazy! You could have been shot with an actual Taser gun!”

  He makes a casual pfft sound, like getting shot with a stun gun is no big deal. “Yeah, but it would have totally been worth it.”

  My hand flies to my chest, covering my heart as it flutters. “You would… you would get Tasered for me?” I take back what I said before. This is by far the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.

  He shrugs. “Course I would.”

  “Awww! Caleb, that is so… so awkwardly sweet.”

  He shrugs again like it’s no big deal, like he contemplates a good Tasering on a daily basis and finds the process tediously boring.

  God, he’s adorable.

  I lovingly stroke the side of his face, and he leans in again, nuzzling the valley between my breasts with his nose.

  “I noticed you’re wearing my shirt.” His muffled voice is barely audible, but I detect a pleased lilt to it.

  I smile into his hair, against the top of his head. “It’s my shirt now, remember?”

  He leans back on his taut haunches, calloused fingers stroking my shoulders, down my arms, fiddling with the hem of our shirt and watching my face the entire time. I lean back, bracing myself up with my arms, and look down as his big hands run slowly along the cotton trim then disappear underneath.

  My breath hitches when those same hands linger over my belly button, drawing lazy loops around it. “I love your belly button,” he murmurs. “It’s so damn sexy.”

  He leans in and licks it, his tongue trailing its way up my stomach. Deftly, my tee shirt gets pushed up, and Caleb is sliding his hands up my abs, over my breasts, and pulling the shirt off in one swift motion.

  “Caleb.”

  “Mmmm?”

  “I just wanted to say that… oh, that feels good… I just wanted to say that… mnnnuuh… c-climbing… uhh… maybe you should s-stop doing that so I can s-say what I need to say.” I get the words out as he’s yanking his own shirt over his head, and my hands snake up his bare chest.

  What was it I wanted to say?

  “What did you want to say, baby? I’m listening.”

  Oh, Jesus. Who can think straight with these capable fingers stroking so perilously close to a person’s, um, lace-covered crotch.

  I struggle to string my sentence together.

  “Climbing out that…” I gasp “…window at the Kappa house was the… single best decision I’ve ever made.” My head tips back and his lips find the beating pulse on my neck. “B-besides coming to this university, with that house, and that window.” I say it quietly, in a slurred, drunken whisper before I lose my courage.

  I feel him smile against my neck, and he nips my shoulder with his teeth as his hands caress the soft skin of my naked breasts. “I’m one lucky bastard.”

  I giggle. “I sure am glad it wasn’t Cubby standing outside the day I climbed out that window.”

  Caleb pulls his mouth off my neck. “That’s not even funny.” He pouts and nudges me onto my back.

  “Oh!” I gasp as he climbs on top of the bed, on top of my pristine, virginal white duvet.

  He leans down, rubbing his stubble along my jawline. “Did you miss me, Abby?”

  “Yes. So much.”

  “What an awkward pair we make.”

  “Would you stop talking and kiss me?”

  “Whoa, someone’s gotten bossy in the six days I’ve been gone.”

  I groan in frustration and roll my eyes. “Stop teasing.”

  “You want a kiss?” He plants a chaste kiss on my cheek, a wet smacking sound resonating in the room. “Like that?”

  No, not like that. My brows furrow, but I’m not yet forward enough to make sexual demands. I don’t know if I’ll ever be.

  “Or like this.” Another kiss, this one on my temple. “Or like… this.” His firm, beautiful lips kiss one corner of my mouth, then the other.

  “That feels… kind of okay,” I joke, getting into the spirit.

  “Kind of okay, she says.” Caleb’s mouth hovers a whisper above mine. “Kind of—”

  “Would you. Stop. Talking already? Kiss me like you mean it.” Even in the dark, I can see his eyes blazing with arousal as he stares down at
me, shaggy, unkempt hair falling in his eyes. “Kiss me like you haven’t kissed me in six days. Kiss me like… like this.”

  I pull his head down and our mouths reconnect, a reunion one full week in the making, the delicious taste of him on my tongue assaulting my senses in the best possible way.

  Pressing our lips together, we make out, unhurriedly. Recklessly. Moaning. Sighing. Wet. Tongues, lips, and teeth.

  It’s perfect.

  “Shit, that’s sexy. If I thought—“

  “Shhhh!”

  I pull him down again, my palms running lightly over his bent shoulders, memorizing every smooth contour of this boy’s sinewy muscles—this shy boy who kisses me so sweetly that my heart could actually burst from the joy of it all. This shy and cautious boy who makes me feel beautiful. Wanted.

  Confident.

  Like I steal his breath away.

  The way he steals away mine.

  Acknowledgements

  It began with a book review…

  I can remember what I felt that day I hit the “publish” button on my first book—the button that would make it LIVE! online for all the word to read. With a jumble of nerves and a wave of uncertaintly, I hit it anyways.

  A few months went by. Out of the blue, I received a message from a woman who wanted to review it; a mother, blogger, and author. By chance, she happened upon my book and—holy crap—actually liked it! Reviewed it. “Pimped” me out (her words, not mine). See, I was doing the writing/publishing thing on my own, navigating through a publishing world I knew absolutley nothing about, and still wasn’t sure I was even enjoying it.

  So imagine my genuine surprised that someone out there—someone who knew their shit—actually cared enough to reach out to me. Saw potential and wanted me to be better. What’s more; I wanted to be better.

  So. Me being me, I found her online and sent her a note:

  “Will you be my friend?”

  She said yes, and a friendship was born.