The Third Kiss

by Kat Colmer

  “Sunday? Why Sunday?” Was he flying out again so soon? The possibility sat heavy on my shoulders.

  One eyebrow up, Dad glanced at me over his shoulder. “Don’t all kids inform their parents we can’t tell them what to do once they turn eighteen?”

  I stopped in the middle of the hallway. With everything going on the last few weeks, I’d totally forgotten: it was my eighteenth birthday in a few days.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Jonas

  “Right, that’s all of it.” I stuffed the last of my clothes into the backpack Beth had brought to the hospital a few days ago. “Let’s get out of here.” I wanted to get home already, where I might finally have a chance to talk to Cora alone. Texting was better than nothing, but what I had to say needed to be said face-to-face.

  She’d come to see me every day that week, but each time her father stuck to her like gum to a shoe. Suppose I couldn’t blame him; his only daughter had been attacked—not once, but twice—in the space of a week. What kind of father would he be if he didn’t tighten the reins and go all hyper protective on her for a while? The man had to do what he had to do. Problem was, it made what I had to do near impossible. But I had a plan…

  Aunt Helena snapped her laptop shut and looked up at me. “Have you signed your discharge papers?”

  I shook my head. “I’ve asked for them twice, but no one’s come back with the goods.” Which surprised me. The nurses had been super attentive all week. Why stop now?

  Aunt Helena huffed and pushed herself out of her chair. “Let me see what I can do.”

  As she walked out, Beth walked into the room. My stomach growled when I spied her juggling two takeaway cups of coffee and a bag of what I hoped were some of those fruit muffins from the café down the road. The collapsed lung had been dangerous, but another week of hospital food, and the swamp water they called coffee, would have been lethal.

  I pounced on her before she was fully through the door and relieved her of the paper bag.

  She grinned at me over her coffee cup. “So what was it this morning? Soggy scrambled eggs or cardboard pancakes?”

  “Egth,” I mumbled around a mouthful of muffin and shuddered at the memory of the pseudo food I’d been served that morning.

  The blueberry pastry was gone in under three bites, and I was fishing out the second serving. Apple cinnamon. I sighed. It couldn’t get much better; I was alive, Love’s Mortal Coil was a thing of the past, I was going home, and my sister brought me apple cinnamon muffins.

  I pulled Beth into a hug and planted a kiss on her cheek. “You’re the best sister ever. I love you.”

  When I released her, she gave me a weird look.

  “What?”

  “That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

  “Telling you you’re the best sister ever? You’re the only one I’ve got so don’t go getting a big head.” I mussed her hair, knowing full well she hated that, and bit into apple cinnamon heaven.

  Beth shook me off. “I meant saying those three little words, you moron.”

  I swallowed and glared at her. Time alone with Cora may not have happened this past week, but I’d got plenty of time alone with Beth—during which she’d grilled me mercilessly about my feelings for her best friend. There was only so much a guy trapped in a hospital bed could take. Even the strongest would have caved. So I spilled. But not before I made her swear not to say anything to Cora. Besides, I needed Beth’s help to pull off my plan.

  “Wipe that stupid smirk off your face and tell me you went shopping yesterday.”

  “I went shopping yesterday,” she said, smirk remaining firmly in place.

  “And did you find it?”

  “Yes.” She stretched out on the unmade bed, one hand behind her head, the other toying with the pendant at her throat. “Is that the same place you had my necklace made?”

  “Yeah.” Although Beth’s necklace had been a no-brainer. Cora, on the other hand, wasn’t really the jewelry-wearing kind so this could all blow up in my face. Didn’t matter. It was too late to do anything else; her birthday was tomorrow.

  “She’ll love it, Jonas.” Beth’s words reassured me for all of two seconds, then, as though remembering her loyalty to her best friend, she added, “But if you hurt her I’ll feed your balls to that vicious fish of hers.”

  She softened the threat with a smile. Still, I had no doubt she’d make good on her threat if I screwed up.

  I popped the last of the apple cinnamon muffin into my mouth and chewed, a smile of my own pulling at the corners of my lips. “Are you kidding? You’ll have to beat Cora to it.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Cora

  It didn’t take long to convince Dad I could do without a party for my eighteenth birthday. When I pointed out that Jonas and Beth would be the only two people I’d feel comfortable inviting because I’d lost touch with everyone else since he and Mom—in their ultimate parenting wisdom—decided to yank me out of my social group a year ago, he dropped the idea quick-smart.

  So to celebrate my birthday Dad took me to Aqua for an early dinner on Sunday. He went all out and ordered the degustation menu. The food was to die for, the view of the bridge and opera house was eye popping, and I had Dad all to myself for the entire night. I should have been as happy as a nerd at summer school.

  I wasn’t.

  Because the North Sydney Olympic pool the restaurant overlooked had me thinking about Jonas.

  “Cora? Did you hear a word I said?”

  I tore my eyes away from the clear blue lanes of water below us and found my father frowning at me. “Ah, sorry. Say again, Dad?”

  “I was saying that with two new qualified GPs at the Outback Clinic, I’m hoping I won’t need to travel quite as much,” he repeated.

  I forced the corners of my mouth up. “That’d be nice.” And it would be. I just wasn’t in the right mood to appreciate his good news properly.

  Dad’s frown lines burrowed deeper into his forehead. He put his cutlery down and reached for my hand across the table. “Cora, is something wrong? You’re very distracted. Is the attack still playing on your mind?”

  No, it wasn’t the “attack.” But there was no point in telling him I was moping because Jonas had been home for more than a day but hadn’t made any attempt to speak to me other than this morning’s very generic text wishing me a happy birthday. I understood it’d been hard to catch a private moment while he’d been in hospital, but he’d now been back for—I glanced at my phone to check the time. 7:42. He’d been home for over thirty-eight hours. Plenty of time to come over and grab me alone.

  Beth didn’t have any trouble finding the time to wish me a happy birthday. She’d been on our doorstep first thing this morning.

  But not Jonas. With each hour that passed, a little of my hope that he might want more died. Shame I couldn’t kill my feelings for the guy at the same time.

  Way to handle it, Cora.

  So I let Dad think it was the “attack.” It was easier.

  “Yep. The whole nightclub thing is still freaking me out a bit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spoil the night.” I gave him a sincere smile, an attempt to make up for the guilt gnawing at my innards for lying to him.

  Dad squeezed my hand. “Don’t be sorry. You’ve been through more trauma in one week than most people experience in a lifetime. Let’s finish up here and get you home.”

  I mumbled a relieved thanks and ate the last of my chocolate raspberry cheesecake.

  One night. I’d give myself one night to indulge in a personal pity party. A viral apocalypse movie marathon and one or two packets of Tim Tams should do the trick. Maybe I’d ask Beth to join me. Or maybe not; her blonde hair and blue eyes reminded me too much of her brother. Then, tomorrow, I’d start figuring out how to fix this stupid mess and salvage my friendship with Jonas.

 
In the end, I decided it was too pathetic to be alone on my eighteenth birthday. I pushed painful sibling similarities aside and texted Beth to come over.

  Brad Pitt was stuck in gridlock, playing a game of twenty questions with his movie kids and movie wife seconds before a deluge of zombies was due to flood the street, when the doorbell rang. I shoved the rest of my Tim Tam into my mouth and made for the door, biscuit packet in hand. Might as well start the night the way I planned on finishing it—with me in control of the junk food. Birthday or not, when it came to the last Tim Tam there was no guarantee Beth would do the honorable thing.

  “What took you? Brad’s already busting zombie butt and I’ve—”

  “Started on the Tim Tams already?” Jonas finished for me. “Anyone ever tell you it’s rude not to share?” He pushed away from the doorjamb and swiped one of the chocolate biscuits from the pack in my hand as he slid past me into the hallway. Like he’d done a hundred times before. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like the unspoken words in his eyes that day he lay bleeding in my arms while surrounded by Groth Maar hellhounds had never been there.

  The sight of him, so familiar and yet so utterly unsettling, caused a temporary glitch in my ability to string coherent words together. And the snug-fitting white tee he was wearing stretched a little too tightly across his chest. All I could do was stare as he bit into the biscuit and chewed, watching me silently, a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

  No. Please no. I need one night. Just one night before I have to pretend to be normal around him again.

  I gave myself a mental slap and craned my neck out the front door. “Where’s Beth?” Surely she’d take pity on me and play the buffer between her brother and me tonight. It was my birthday, for crying out loud. She owed me that much.

  Still watching me, Jonas swallowed his biscuit. “She’s not coming.” He lifted his fingers to his mouth and—oh please!—sucked the chocolate off the dirty digits. My traitorous pulse kicked up speed. Was he completely clueless or just a thoughtless dick? For his sake, I hoped it was the first, because I couldn’t forgive the second. But honestly, how could he not know what he was doing to me?

  What did you expect, Cora? Jonas has done what Jonas does best—moved on. You’d be smart to do the same.

  Yep. I would. I really would.

  Finally registering his words, something close to panic clawed its way along my spine. I tightened my grip on the front door handle. “What do you mean, she’s not coming?” She had to come. I couldn’t do a viral apocalypse movie marathon alone with Jonas. Not tonight. Maybe not ever again.

  “I asked her not to.” For the first time since I opened the door, his gaze wavered, and he broke eye contact.

  Oh crap. What if he wants to talk about that awkward conversation in the kitchen? Wants to give me the whole “we’re better off as friends” spiel? Panic was now closing her fingers around my throat. Needing a moment, I turned my back on him as I latched the door and squeezed my eyes shut. I willed the zombies in the next room to jump off the screen and barrel down the hallway, anything to save me from this train wreck of a situation.

  But when I turned, there were no zombies. Just Jonas, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his low-sitting faded jeans and an unreadable look swimming in his eyes.

  I inhaled slowly through my nose to help calm me down. Okay. Let’s get this over with. “Why would you ask her not to come?”

  “I didn’t want anyone around when I gave you your birthday present.”

  Wait, what? “You got me a birthday present?”

  He looked at me like I’d grown two heads. “Yeah. I get you one every year. Why would this year be any different?”

  Yes, Cora. Why would this year be any different? There’s nothing different about this year. Not to him anyway.

  I pulled my phone out of my shorts and made a show of checking the time. “It’s after nine. You had all day to find me. Why now?” I wasn’t going to make this easy for him, darn it.

  “I kind of needed to wait until dark,” he said, glancing up at me from underneath his lashes.

  Okay, if he wanted me confused, he’d succeeded.

  “Come on. I’ll show you.” Not giving me a chance to argue, he started walking down the hallway toward the back of the house. Forgetting all about Brad and his zombies, I dropped the packet of biscuits on the hallway table and followed him.

  Jonas led me into our backyard, to the boundary line between our properties, then stopped. “Now close your eyes.”

  I gave him my best what-the-hell-are-you-up-to glare. He rolled his eyes impatiently. “Just trust me.”

  I hesitated for a moment but then…this was Jonas. Only days ago he’d proven I could trust him with my life. Maybe not my heart, but based on available evidence, definitely my life.

  With a last look into the expectant gray-blue, I closed my eyes. Immediately, the sweet aniseed and grass scent of him intensified around me.

  “Keep them closed,” he whispered as his warm fingers found mine, sending tingles of awareness up my arm.

  Grip, Cora. Get a grip.

  I expected him to place whatever gift he had for me in my hand, but instead he tugged gently on my fingers, urging me to move.

  Again, I hesitated, pulling back on his hand. “This is nuts, Jonas. I’m going to trip and—”

  “I won’t let you fall.” He was close, his breath distracting as it fanned my cheek. No, he wouldn’t. This was Jonas. Jonas Leander. If nothing else, he was my friend. He would never let me fall. I swallowed my wariness and allowed him to lead me into the darkness.

  Kangaroo paw bushes brushed my calves as he carefully steered me along the dirt path into the reserve behind our houses. I had a good idea of where we were headed, but the whole “eyes closed” scenario had my heart pounding loud enough to drown out the chirping crickets. And not just because Jonas’s thumb occasionally stroked the inside of my wrist as we made our way in the direction of the gazebo. No, I just didn’t like surprises. The last few I’d had turned out to be of the dreaded D kind: divorce, displacement, and demons.

  A minute or so later we stopped. “You can open them now.”

  The moment my eyes opened, my respiratory system shut down. The gazebo was ablaze with dozens of colorful tea light candles. They flickered everywhere, casting a warm glow up the steps, along the railing, across the wooden beams. It was…beautiful.

  The wrought iron table and chairs had been pushed to the side, their candle-covered surfaces making it clear we wouldn’t be using them to sit on tonight. Instead, on the floor in the center of the gazebo, was an island of soft-looking cushions.

  What on earth was I meant to make of this?

  Nothing, Cora. Just a guy doing something nice for his friend’s eighteenth birthday. Or a guy trying to soften the blow of what he had to say with candlelight and cushions.

  Jonas squeezed my fingers, which I’d forgotten were still nestled in his warm hand. “This is why I had to wait until dark.” His voice was suddenly softer than normal. I glanced at his face, trying to read his expression, but he ducked his head and pulled me up the steps.

  He sat on the cushion island, crossing his long legs. Only when he’d tugged me down opposite him did he let go of my hand. I mentally kicked myself for missing his touch, but at least now I could see his face. And I’d never seen him look so nervous and…unsure.

  “Say something,” he urged. “Do you like it?” He glanced around, indicating all the candles.

  I cleared my throat to make certain I could still produce sound before answering him. “Beautiful.” One word. That was all I could manage. That was enough considering it came out all quiet and raspy. If he noticed, he didn’t make a thing of it. Instead, he took it on himself to continue the talking.

  “You’re probably wondering what this is all about.” The flickering
light from the candles heightened the blue in his eyes, making them larger, deeper, easier to drown in…

  Stop waxing lyrical about his darn eyes and concentrate on speaking without sounding like you’ve got emphysema. “A nice gesture for a friend’s eighteenth?” I hedged, glad I’d lost some of the raspy. The quiet I could live with.

  “Yeah. There’s that.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “But that’s not all.” Those eyes of his looked up at me through thick lashes as though he expected me to know what he was hinting at.

  When I didn’t say anything, he reached under one of the pillows beside him and produced a gift box the size of my fist. “There’s also this.”

  I stared at the gold bow holding the lid in place. So the candlelit gazebo wasn’t the present. This was. I had to hand it to him—he was trying hard to say sorry without actually saying the words. How very Jonas.

  He leaned forward a little. “Open it.”

  My hands tugged at the bow. It came away easily. I pried open the lid and found myself looking at an unusual gold bracelet that resembled…

  “A chemical molecule.” I ran my fingers over the smooth pattern of tiny circles and lines. The precious metal was cool to the touch, but it caused warmth to unfurl in my chest. He’d gone and bought me a gift that used a language he knew I’d understand.

  “Yeah. Do you know which one?”

  Ask me to name any chemical element and I could recite it in my sleep, but identifying molecules on sight was beyond me. I wasn’t that much of a nerd.

  I shook my head. “Sorry. No idea.” I looked back up at Jonas, waiting for him to tell me.

  “Oxytocin.”

  I wasn’t certain, but I could swear his eyes darkened as he said the word. Oxytocin. Wait, what? Oxytocin? As in, the love hormone? My mind scrambled to comprehend the implication of Jonas giving me a bracelet that symbolized the equivalent of human hormonal superglue.