Valentine Kisses: A Kiss to Last a Lifetime

by Abigail Drake

  “A kiss,” she said, aloofly. She was miffed he was more amused than aroused.

  “I thought my floor was too dirty for you?” He raised an eyebrow, reminding her of her comment about the cleanliness of his apartment ages ago.

  She grumbled and started getting up, but he pulled her back to him so she face-planted to his chest.

  “Sorry,” he said, but chuckled nonetheless. “I can’t let you go just yet.”

  His words appeased her a little.

  “I don’t want to let you go again. Ever,” Damon said.

  “So don’t say anything. I don’t want to know.” She hated how much like begging her words sounded.

  “But I wanted to…”

  “Sh.”

  He stilled when she pressed her finger to his lips. He seemed to understand she was serious because he didn’t say anything even after she pulled her hand away.

  He stared at her as if he didn’t know what to make of her.

  So she was running again, from the truth this time. But it was worth it. Damon was worth the effort it would take her to bury the doubts deep inside.

  “I’m hungry,” Damon said, reminding her he was still splayed out on the floor beneath her.

  Why was he even here and not running as fast as he could away from her after she’d hurt him so terribly and so often? Why did he bother? It didn’t make sense.

  “Why?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Because the last thing I ate was a sandwich yesterday noon. Plus you zapped my energy last night.”

  She huffed. “I meant why, after I’ve treated you like shit more times than I care to remember, you still care?”

  When he just stared at her for a moment, she wondered if he was trying to come up with a lie.

  He pushed himself up into a sitting position. Being so close to his serious face and intense eyes was frightening. She had never before been so vulnerable, not even with Ralph. Because with Damon she cared, and he had the power to rip her apart with mere words.

  “Sometimes, when I look at you, you are so utterly sad. And it’s like you’re not even aware of it. It’s like you only let yourself feel anger and disgust because they’re your crutch and if someone took that away from you, you’d fall and shatter. You deserve to be loved, Anaïs.”

  His hands on her face felt warm and calloused.

  “You deserve to have someone to catch you when you fall.”

  Her T-shirt clung to her chest where her tears soaked it. She wished she could hide her weakness but it was too late. At least, Damon had the decency not to comment on her crying.

  After a minute of silence, she nodded and rose up.

  “You said you were hungry.”

  “Starving.”

  If he’d asked her to lay down her life for him, she would’ve. No one had ever done anything for her while Damon had done everything for her, repeatedly.

  In a daze from the all the feelings still vibrating through her entire body, she barely noticed Damon tucking in with gusto.

  “By the way, I like your short hair. Looks wicked,” he said.

  “Oh, shove it.”

  His chuckle filled the room. She stared at her plate so he wouldn’t see her blush with happiness.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Bridie Hall writes young adult and new adult contemporary stories. She sold her first story at fourteen. Since then, she has written dozens more, translated books, studied writing, and started writing novels. Her days revolve around stories and words, her sleepless nights involve plotting and inventing fascinating new characters.

  www.bridiehallauthor.com

  @BridieHall13

  https://www.facebook.com/bridie.hall.12

  Not Today

  Lisa Hahn

  Other Books by Lisa Hahn

  A Dream Come True

  Believe in Me

  Sweet: Book One of The Bretton Falls Ballet Series

  Not Today

  Copyright © 2016 Lisa Hahn

  All rights reserved.

  DEDICATION

  To those I love most:

  Don, Jonas, Cassie, and Blueberry

  9:00 AM

  Emily Scott breathed in the cold, February air and shivered. She took the lid off her venti soy latte, letting the steam warm her face. Typically, she started off with an herbal tea, but today was a caffeine-first sort of day.

  Walt, her good-natured hound mix, trotted alongside the bench where she sat. He rubbed his face against her leg: a sign he wanted his head scratched. Emily obliged, her lips gently curling at the sight of Walt’s heaving sides and his floppy tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. Only he could make her smile today. She adopted the white-and-brown mutt from a local shelter a few years before and loved him to distraction.

  And that was the point. Sometimes the memories got to be too much, and Emily needed a distraction.

  When a black Lab darted by with a Border Collie on his heels, Walt ran after them. Emily tentatively sipped her coffee, grimacing as it burned going down her throat. At least, Walt was having fun. Going to the dog park had been a good choice. If only she knew how to occupy the rest of her day.

  For the past few years, February 14th had been a weekday. Emily could go to work, teach her tenth and eleventh graders, grade their papers, and generally immerse herself in engaging lesson plans and the literature she loved.

  It was escapism at its finest.

  Unfortunately, February 14th was a Saturday this year. Emily was on her own. Sure, she’d brought a stack of grading home, but she could only read student papers for so long before her eyes started to cross and her brain turned to mush. Reading a book was out of the question, too. She wouldn’t be able to focus on the story, no matter how intriguing the plot or the characters were. Emily used to spend the day with her Dad but he was married to Helen now, and she liked to celebrate Valentine’s Day with the works: flowers, candies, an expensive dinner, and all of Pete Scott’s attention.

  Emily was happy for her dad, but sometimes she felt like she’d lost him, too.

  Spinning the coffee lid between her fingers, she surveyed the dog park. For a Saturday morning, there weren’t a lot of people around. They must have been preparing for their holiday festivities, ready to celebrate the abundance of love in their lives, while Emily grieved for the eighth year in a row.

  She often wondered if the anniversary of her mother’s death would be easier to handle if she had someone to celebrate Valentine’s Day with. Because her relationships never lasted long, she hadn’t tested the theory. Typically, she ended things before they got too serious. Getting close to someone was a considerable risk, especially since Emily knew how hard it was to lose the person she cared about most.

  Which was precisely why she jumped to her feet, spilling her piping hot latte down the front of herself, when the black Lab from earlier ran headfirst into Walt, sending her forty-pound dog flying off his paws. Emily screeched as she jumped into action, so driven by her need to rescue Walt she’d barely even registered the near primal sound that had come out of her.

  ***

  Erza Cavanaugh rubbed his tired eyes and wished he hadn’t stayed up until three. He’d hit a stride while working on his current manuscript after nearly a week of debilitating writer’s block. He couldn’t stop when he was on a roll.

  He probably would have stayed up even later had he known Sam Fuller, his boss from the bookstore, was going to call informing him he no longer had to come in for his shift behind the register that morning. A small fire had spread through the store as the result of an old, antique lamp and a faulty outlet. The wiring likely hadn’t been updated or inspected since the building was constructed over a hundred years before. The entire bookstore needed renovation, and Sam insisted the fire was God’s way of telling him to “finally take care of what needed to be taken care of.” The restoration would be complete by summer, which meant Ezra would be out of a job for at least five months.

  He liked working at the bookstore. He spen
t most of his shifts nestled behind the counter toiling over whatever short story, novel, or memoir he was tackling at the time. He’d never been able to do that when he waited tables or worked at a busy department store.

  And Ezra needed to write. He’d released his first novel with a major publishing house right after college. Despite his editor’s belief that Ezra’s historical fiction piece about a teenage boy coming of age during the Civil War would be a tremendous success, the book was a financial disappointment. He submitted over a dozen proposals for his sophomore effort, but the publishing house decided to sever their ties with Ezra, leaving him to resurrect his fledgling writing career on his own.

  Six years later, he was still working on it. A few literary magazines showcased his short stories, but Ezra only saw those publications as a minor successes. He was more concerned with the piles of rejection letters he got each week for his books.

  Ezra knew why the six subsequent novels he’s written had never seen publication. His stories lacked believable, tangible emotion. No matter how hard he tried to conjure life experiences and get into the mindset of a character in turmoil, Ezra couldn’t find anything to help him relate. He was the product of a happily married, upper middle class couple. He got along well with his older brother. He played football in high school and had a supportive group of friends, all of whom were still a part of Ezra’s life.

  Sitting at a rickety bench at the dog park, Ezra mused that losing his job at the bookstore might have been one of the worst things which had ever happened to him. The idea made him simultaneously happy and sad.

  Benny, his two-year-old black Lab, ran over to the bowl of water set at Ezra’s feet. The large dog feverishly drank before using his front paw to upturn the bowl. Ezra replenished the water using the plastic gallon jug he brought with him every time they went to the park. As a young pup, Benny had a lot of energy to burn. The Lab typically drank enough water to wash a sink full of dishes when they were at the park.

  Ezra’s phone beeped from on the bench beside him just as Benny took off after the Border Collie he’d been playing with. Ezra picked it up and read the text from his friend, Jay.

  Sorry, man. Abby has our day booked with Valentine’s Day festivities. Maybe tomorrow.

  Ezra had spent the past hour texting his all friends to see who was free to help him drown his sorrows. Unfortunately, everyone was tied up with their wives and girlfriends.

  “Great,” he said under his breath as he tossed the phone back onto the bench.

  Pondering whether his friends’ lack of sympathy was enough to fuel the emotional core of his next novel, a scream from the other side of the park stole his attention.

  9:05 AM

  When Emily reached Walt, he was already back on his feet. With perked ears and a wagging tail, it appeared the dog had all but forgotten about the spill he’d just taken. Emily hadn’t, though. Usually she didn’t mind the animals playing rough, but today things were different.

  With shaky hands, she clipped on Walt’s red leash. He pulled as another dog darted by, likely wishing he could continue to partake in the fun.

  “Come on, boy.” Emily stood with a sniffle and began leading Walt to her secondhand sedan. “It’s time to go home.”

  Using the sleeve of her blue plaid coat, Emily wiped away the tears she hadn’t been aware were running down her cheeks. She knew she was overreacting, but she didn’t care. The most important person in her life died unexpectedly exactly eight years ago. As far as Emily was concerned, she had every right to lose control of her emotions.

  When they got to the car, Emily opened the backseat door for Walt. He looked wistfully over his shoulder at the romping dogs.

  “Not today, handsome. Sorry.” With a loud, exaggerated sigh, Walt climbed into the car and settled onto the seat. He was resting his chin on his paws before Emily slammed the door shut behind him.

  Emily continued to brush away the errant tears as she sank into the driver’s seat. Resting her forehead on the steering wheel, she willed herself to calm down taking forced deep breaths, knowing she couldn’t drive home with blurry vision. When her breathing grew shallow and her hands began to shake, Emily gave up trying to fight it and let herself cry.

  It wouldn’t be the first time it happened today.

  ***

  Ezra wasn’t sure what had happened, but he knew Benny was at fault. The dog got riled up whenever he played. Judging by the way he cowered a safe distance away from the pretty brunette as she brushed torn-up pieces of grass from her dog’s short fur, Ezra surmised that Benny had knocked the smaller dog over. Even though the other pup seemed fine, the brunette fawned over him. When she clipped her dog’s leash on and headed to the parking lot, Ezra felt guilty.

  “Shit.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, before calling Benny. The dog ran over obediently and sat at his owner’s feet with his ears pulled back.

  The poor guy thought he was in trouble.

  “It’s okay, Ben.” Ezra scratched the dog’s head and stood. “You just have to learn to be more careful. That’s all.” He attached a thick, blue rope-leash to Benny’s matching collar and stood. “Alright, boy. Let’s go apologize.”

  As he approached the parking lot, he noticed the brunette in the front seat of her car with her head pressed to the steering wheel. Her chestnut hair hung like a curtain to cover her face. Ezra could tell by her shaking shoulders that the woman was crying.

  Pausing mid-stride, he wondered if he should approach. He’d watched the woman and her dog walk away and he could tell the canine was uninjured. If she was that upset over the incident, there was no telling how unreceptive she might be of his apology.

  “Oh, the hell with it.” Ezra gave Benny’s leash a light tug and they continued toward the sedan. His day was already ruined. What would it matter if an overly sensitive dog owner chewed him out? At least, his conscience would be clear.

  He rapped his knuckles on the driver’s side window, stepping back when she startled. The woman wiped at her eyes and tucked her hair behind her ears in a meager attempt to regain her composure.

  When the sedan’s engine revved, Ezra expected her to drive away and felt a fleeting sense of relief. Maybe, he wouldn’t have to talk to her after all. But, much to his surprise, she’d merely started her car to open the window. The glass slid down, stopping halfway.

  “Can I help you?” she asked in a scratchy voice.

  Despite all the obvious signs she’d been crying, the young woman had a pretty face. A perfectly sloped nose complimented a set of seductive, green cat-like eyes. A sprinkle of light freckles dotted high cheekbones. Pink, bow-shaped lips mashed together as she waited for his answer.

  Ezra scratched the back of his head. He hadn’t been expecting this.

  “Yeah, sorry. I, uh, I just wanted to apologize.” He patted Benny’s head. “For my dog. He can get a little rambunctious.”

  He also hadn’t expected to sound like a bumbling fool. For a man who typically had confidence in abundance when talking to beautiful women, Ezra struggled to rationalize his unusual response to this one.

  She caught me off guard, he told himself, feeling good about his conclusion.

  She cleared her throat and offered a weak smile. “Oh. It’s okay.”

  “Okay.” Ezra rocked back onto his heels and shoved his hands into back pockets of his jeans. Everything between them was square, but he couldn’t go back to the park just yet. Something else was bothering her, and he wouldn’t feel right about walking away without making sure she would be fine. “So, uh, is everything okay?”

  He knew he shouldn’t have asked the intrusive question. If the woman wasn’t upset with him before, she would be now.

  She looked away, fiddling with a beaded key chain hanging from her ignition. “Yeah. I’m just having a bad day. That’s all.”

  “What a coincidence. Me, too.” Ezra leaned his forearm onto the roof of her car and flashed a smile, his bravado returning. When the corners of her mouth flicked
up in response, he hoped they could cheer each other up. A little harmless flirting usually did the trick for him. “Why don’t you come for a walk with me?”

  All hint of good humor vanished from her expression. “No, thanks.”

  “Come on. I’m nice guy, and like I said, I’m having a crummy day. I could use the company.” Ezra slanted his head toward the opening in the window, peeking inside. He knew it was a bold move, but he also knew she would continue to turn him down otherwise.

  “I can’t.” She pinched her coat off her chest, and Ezra saw the all-encompassing coffee stain immediately. “I’m wet and I smell like a latte.”

  “Well, I have a spare sweatshirt in my car you can borrow. There’s also a small coffee place at the other end of the park. I’ll buy you another cup.” He tipped his head toward Benny, who sat right beside him, his tail thumping against the back of Ezra’s canvas sneakers. “After all, I’m willing to bet this rascal is responsible for the upturning of your first one.”

  Rather than smiling and batting her eyes like most women did when he laid it on thick, this young lady blinked nervously and glanced down at her lap where she was twisting her hands together. Ezra was struck by how pretty she looked when she was pensive, her pink lips pouting and her long eyelashes fluttering like a butterfly’s wings.

  “Alright,” she said finally. She cut the engine and pulled the keys from the ignition. “I just need to make a quick phone call first.”

  Ezra stepped aside to let her out. “Great. My car’s parked on the other side of the lot. I’ll grab the sweatshirt and meet you right back here.”

  She nodded. “Okay. See you in a few.”

  With that, Ezra and Benny jogged off, both with stupidly happy looks on their faces.