by C. L. Stone
“Are you taking her out tonight?”
Kota dropped the polish brush back into the bottle, and tilted his head back. “It’s a school night.”
“So?”
Kota grunted. “I was just going to hang out with her here today.” He collected the mess of paper towels and cotton balls on the floor and stood up, crumpling them into his hands. “We’ve been out a lot lately.”
“Oh really?” Erica beamed. Kota ignored this and walked into the kitchen. Erica turned on me. “So what were you really doing?”
I blushed, sensing she was assuming more from us than what was really going on. “Oh... Um, I was just playing the game.”
“He wasn’t playing with you?”
“Well he did, and then when he let me beat him the first time, he started teaching me how to...”
Erica’s mouth popped open. “He what? He let you win?”
A finger dropped to my mouth, hovering over my lip. “Only the once.”
Erica planted her palms on her hips again, turning to the kitchen. “Dakota Jameson Lee! Get your butt in here.”
Kota dashed back into the room, his eyebrows up, his hands up in surprise. “What? What’s wrong?”
“Did you let Sang win a game?”
Kota rocked his head back. “Just once.”
“Why in the world would you do that?”
Kota’s mouth dropped open. It was the first time I’d seen him so stunned. “What? I was trying to be nice.”
“Letting someone else win is what you do with little four year olds. Not with girls.”
Kota’s cheeks lit up. “I didn’t know.”
“Well think before you do that again. You never just let a girl win at anything. If I ever hear you doing it again, I’ll ground your butt.” Erica sank down onto the couch, kicking off her tennis shoes. Max crawled over until he cuddled in her lap. She scratched him behind the ears. “I swear, you’re a brilliant kid, but some days, I wonder where your common sense went.”
I sank into the bean bag chair, pressing my palm to my cheek. Was Kota getting in trouble with his mother because of me?
Kota did a small eye roll and a half grin. “I’ll try not to let it happen again.”
She snapped her fingers at him and pointed at me. “Don't tell me. Go kiss her and tell her you’re sorry.”
Kota started shaking his head, waving his hands in the air. “I don’t...”
“Do it, or I will ground you,” Erica said. “I shouldn’t have to tell you how to treat a girl.”
My cheeks radiated. If I said he didn’t have to, would she be mad at me for intervening? He seemed so embarrassed.
“What’s wrong?” Erica asked. “You’ve been dating her this long and won’t kiss her in front of other people? No one is going to think less of you for being with a girl. You can be the boss and still date. That’s not some school rule, is it?”
“No,” Kota said.
“Sang, sweetie?” Erica said, dropping her voice into something a little more syrupy and Southern. “Would you be a doll and go give my highly apologetic son a kiss so he’d relax a little?”
For a moment, I wasn’t sure what to do. I had flashes of myself kissing Kota on the lips in front of her. I had a feeling Erica was going to drag this out until we kissed. My heart thundered. My first kiss ever would be with Kota after I was told to do so by his mother.
Could do worse.
I popped up from the bean bag chair. Kota’s eyes widened, as if not expecting me to have obeyed so readily. I kept a palm at my cheek to mask my blushing. I walked a little funny, trying not to get polish on the carpet.
I stood close to Kota, looking between him and his mother, suddenly unsure.
Erica waved a hand in the air at us. “Go ahead.”
I placed a hand on Kota’s chest, and went almost en pointe on my toes.
Kota lowered his head, tilting his cheek to me.
I almost huffed at him, but I remembered Karen telling me a boy should kiss the girl on the lips first. I wanted it to happen like that, like in the movies I’d seen. With the way Kota was acting, it was as if he didn’t want to do it. He was presenting his cheek as if this was as far as he was willing.
Out of frustration, I leaned forward and kissed his cheek, close to his mouth. It was only a moment, but as I did it, I felt his chest shift as he inhaled sharply.
I pulled back, dropping down and touching my finger to my lip, unsure of what I just did.
Kota gazed down at me, in an expression that had me confused. I wasn’t sure if he was happy with me.
“That was a good angle,” Erica said from the couch. When I turned, she had her phone in her hand as if she’d snapped another picture. “I can’t believe how cute you two are.”
“I think that’s just Sang,” Kota said in a small voice.
I blushed. Did he mean to call me cute?
“All right, Mr. Smarty Pants,” she said. “Take her on up to your room. I’ll make dinner.”
“But...”
“No,” she said, holding her palm up and out toward him in a blocking motion. “I don’t want to watch my son making out with his girlfriend in the living room. There’s only so much of this I can take. You know I trust you. You can have Sang in your room, but you better treat her right. If I hear one negative word from her, I’ll send her home.”
Kota rolled his eyes and nudged me in the shoulder. “You heard the woman. Upstairs.”
I raced around the couch, eager to escape his mother. I liked her a lot, but I wasn’t sure I could take another request from her like that.
Kota collected our book bags and my shoes and followed me. He shut the door behind us as I dashed up the stairs.
At the top, I leaned against the wall for support. My legs shook. My palm pressed to my ribs over my heart that was rapidly beating in my chest. I’d kissed Kota. I’d done it before to him, but this was in front of his mother. Where did I ever find the nerve?
Kota dropped our things on the floor. He closed his eyes slowly and partially turned his head away. “I’m sorry, Sang,” he said quietly.
“For what?”
“I know how you feel about being forced to kiss someone you don’t want. I’m sorry my mother forced you,” he said, gazing at his feet. His cheeks were about as red as mine felt.
I bit my lip to hold back the words, but they burst from me. “I’m not sorry,” I said. She didn’t really force me. If I hadn’t wanted to, I wouldn’t have at all. Maybe Erica knew me better than I really knew myself. Maybe that’s why she asked me again what we’d been doing today. She expected us, since she thought we were dating, to be kissing and cuddling on the couch like other couples did.
His eyebrows arched up in surprise. He nudged at the corner of his dark rimmed glasses. He stared at me for so long I thought he wasn’t going to say anything.
He closed the distance between us, locked eyes with mine. He hovered over me, his head bent forward, and he turned his focus to my mouth.
My lips trembled. I pressed my back to the wall. The sensation swept over me, warning me that he was going to kiss me. I stiffened. I wanted him to, but I was nervous again.
Kota closed his eyes, sighing. His hand found mine, capturing it and he held it between his palms. “Don’t look like that,” he breathed. “Please.”
“Like what?” I whispered.
“Like you did that first night.” He opened his eyes to slits. “I can’t stand it when you look at me with those eyes.”
I didn’t know how to respond. “I don’t know how I’m looking.”
He traced a forefinger across my cheek. “Like you don’t know me. Like you’re about to run off and disappear and I’ll never find you again.”
“But...”
“I’m trying, Sang,” he said, squeezing my hand. “I’m nice to you, aren’t I? I mean I know I messed up when I let you win, but I was trying to get you to smile and relax. I thought it was working.”
“Kota,” I whispered, un
able to find my voice.
His cheeks tinted. “I get close and you stiffen up like I’m just some stranger and you’re uncomfortable.”
“I don’t know I’m doing that,” I said. I was nervous, but I didn’t know how to be any other way. I’d never done things like this before. Wasn’t he nervous at all? Weren’t other girls nervous when they first started getting close to someone?
“Do you not like me?” he asked, though his voice bordered on desperate. “Not in that way?”
It was more complicated than a yes or no answer. My knees knocked together as a tremor swept through me.
“See?” he said. “I can’t even ask you something without you looking terrified.” He sighed, dropping his forehead until it touched the top of mine. He hovered so close, clutching my hand like a lifeline. “What am I doing wrong?”
“You’re not doing anything wrong.” And I knew it in my heart he wasn’t. I was the one messing up. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know what you want me to do.”
“I want you to do what you want,” he said. “I don’t want someone telling you what you should do, or me telling you where to sit, or what to do for the afternoon. I don’t—I don’t want someone else telling you when you should kiss me, when it’s something you don’t want.”
Waves of frustration swept over me, mostly toward myself realizing his meaning. Maybe this whole time, all the times he stopped short when I thought he would kiss me or do something similar, he backed off because he thought I didn’t want to. I couldn’t imagine what sort of looks he thought I was giving him, but I didn’t know how to control that.
I mumbled, not knowing the words to say or how to drag him out of this. My hands found his shoulders. I held onto them for support as I got on my toes.
And I planted a kiss just above his eyebrow. I’d thought about his lips, but I didn’t have enough courage for that. I thought this was enough.
I let my lips linger on his forehead. I didn’t know how long I should do it for, and I was afraid to back away. He said he couldn’t look at me and if I backed off, he’d know I was terrified now, too. Did I just make a mistake?
“Sang,” he breathed, with a touch of surprise in his voice.
I wobbled on my toes, so I fell back. In an effort to hide my eyes so he wouldn’t worry, I left them mostly closed, and tried staring at my hands as they fell from his shoulders to his chest. “She didn’t force me, Kota,” I whispered. “I wouldn’t have, if I didn’t want to.”
I sensed him lowering his head, and this time I closed my eyes. His lips brushed just above my eyebrow. At first I thought that was going to be it. Something I barely felt.
Suddenly his hands found the side of my head, cupping just under my ears on my neck. He held me still.
He kissed my forehead.
Something new happened to me this time. A strange soothing feeling swept over me. In a way, it was like I’d been holding my breath for years, and this was the first time I ever let it out and could relax. The air was sent from his lips, and glided down into my heart. I sucked in a heavy breath, inhaling in his spice, breathing him in.
“How come you never did this before?” he whispered against my forehead.
“I didn’t know how,” I said. “I didn’t know I could.”
“Sang.” His hands ran down my body. He found my waist and scooped me up. I wrapped my arms around his neck for stability. He turned away from the wall, kissing my eyebrow.
As he walked across the room, I was disoriented. When he started to lower down, I thought he was trying to kneel on the floor. Instead, my back met with one of the beanbag chairs. His knees sank into the material, one planted on either side of my hips. He propped himself up on his elbows as he hovered over me.
His lips met with my eyebrow again, longer. His lips parted. I felt the wetness of his mouth against my skin. He pressed down heavily and then sucked gently at the end. He kissed again and again, making a trail across one eyebrow, and switched, kissing the other.
I remained still underneath him. I didn’t know what to do with my hands. I was afraid to look at him, and he was so close I wasn’t sure I could. When his shoulders arched as he switched kissing my brows again, my hands slid down to his chest. I pressed gently, not to push him off, but grasping. I collected handfuls of the blazer he wore. My hands closed around the material, gathering it.
Kota pulled away, gently knocking my hands away from his chest. He ripped the blazer open, shoving it off his back and chucking it across the room. He did the same with the tie, and unbuttoned a few buttons on the white shirt underneath. His palms landed on either side of my hips, and he clutched at me as he lowered another kiss at the spot between my brows.
My hands stopped short of touching his chest again. The sudden removal of some of his clothes had me wondering if he’d remove more if I touched again. My fingers shook. I didn’t want him to think I was afraid, even though I was. I couldn’t help it. Being afraid didn’t mean I wanted him to stop, either. Kota’s kisses were air when I felt breathless. I craved it. Was this what I’d been missing out on?
He kissed once more against the corner of my eye, backed up. His hands reclaimed my thighs, shoving me to one side until he settled into the bag chair next to me. He threw one arm over my shoulders, while the other hooked at my legs, drawing them over his until I was curled up next to him. I was in his lap, but with the chair, he could hover over me close.
He dropped a forefinger against the edge of my jaw close to my ear, and traced the line to my chin. “Sang,” he murmured, his face hovering close until his nose nuzzled my cheek.
My hands settled onto his chest again. I felt the undone button at his collar. “Kota?”
His fingers dropped to my shoulder, tracing down until he touched my elbow. He nudged my arm until my palms cupped his face just under his jaw. My fingers twitched, the tips sliding against the soft spots of his skin right behind his ears.
Kota clutched tighter to me, closing his eyes and shuddered. “I shouldn’t,” he whispered. “I can’t...”
“Can’t?” I gazed up at him through half open eyes. I couldn’t believe how comfortable he was. Wasn’t I sitting like this with him downstairs? It was comfortable, but now I was snuggled into him further, and I was warmer. His body just seemed to fit mine into it. Now that I was here, I didn’t want to get up.
His green eyes met mine. “Please,” he begged in a quiet whisper. “No, I can’t stand those eyes.”
I moaned, uttering my frustration. I didn’t know what to do other than close them. “Don’t look,” I said.
His eyebrows shifted up. “Hm?”
“If you can’t look at them, don’t look,” I said. I pulled a hand around, touching the corner of his glasses. Gently, I tugged them away from his face.
Kota remained perfectly still as I pulled the glasses away. I folded them in one hand. He blinked at me, the lashes crossing over his green eyes. The angle of his jaw, the dark brows, the high cheekbones, everything complimented his features.
He dropped his head again, his nose finding mine. He nuzzled close, his lips hovered, but he never moved closer. He slid his nose down, crossing over my cheeks, breathing out heavily as he did.
His fingers found my jaw line, and traced the edge. With the way he moved his fingers, his thumb ended up just above my lower lip. Instinct took over me, and I puckered my lips, kissing his thumb.
Kota backed his head away, his brows up in surprise. He snatched up one of my hands, drew it to his mouth, kissing the thumb. His glasses that I’d been holding fell to my lap. He found my other hand and pulled it around, kissing it, too.
My lips parted as I sucked in a breath.
Kota let go of one of my hands, touched his forefinger gently to my lower lip, like he’d done with his thumb. I understood he wanted me to kiss his finger. I didn’t understand why, but I did it.
The moment I did, he singled out my own forefinger and kissed the tip, and continued kissing it all the way to
the knuckle where it met my palm. When he finished, he hovered his last three fingers over my lips.
I lifted my head, pecking at his fingers. I didn’t understand this game. I kissed him a little; he kissed me in the same place. He didn’t kiss my brow until I’d kissed it first. Is that how it worked? Wasn’t the guy supposed to kiss first? Why was Kota making me do it?
I didn’t mind kissing the fingers first. The brow and his cheek, I was willing. I promised myself though a real kiss, one on the lips, I wouldn’t do that until Kota did. Nathan kissed my fingers. Victor had kissed my cheek and face. I wanted to do things the right way. It didn’t feel like I should until he did it first.
Kota kissed my fingers, back and front, and lowered himself again until he kissed my brow. He drew me in until he was hugging me, his lips meeting my eyebrows again. “I can’t stop,” he said, his voice taking on a deeper, huskier tone. “Make me stop.” His kisses trailed from one corner of my eyebrow to the other across the ridge.
“Why?” I breathed, closing my eyes since he was so close.
He grunted, dropping a heavy kiss between my brows again before pulling back. “I don’t want to scare you.”
“I’m not scared,” I said, fully believing it. I was nervous, but I wasn’t afraid of him. I fiddled with his glasses in my lap, unsure of what else to do with them. I didn’t want to drop them on the floor, and I thought they would roll off if I put them down on the edge of the chair.
He sighed, dropping his head until his nose pressed to my cheek. He nuzzled slow.
There was a knock at the door down the stairs. “Kota?” Erica called up.
At the sound, Kota leapt up from the bean bag chair as if it were on fire. He sucked in a breath, adjusted a tie that wasn’t there at his neck. He turned and started down the steps.
I gathered myself, curling up in the chair and held his glasses. I clutched them to my chest.
The door opened downstairs. “Yeah?” Kota’s voice drifted up to me.
“Oh,” she said. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“What do you need?” he asked.
“Jessica called wanting to be picked up, and I just started dinner. Did you want to...”