Every Kiss

by Tasha Ivey

  It takes a while to get my long hair free of tangles, but in the end, I opt to pile it all on top of my head in a messy bun. I don’t have the heart or motivation to deal with it today. And instead of putting my contacts back in, I slip on my glasses. The lenses are narrow rectangles, thickly framed in glossy espresso. I rarely wear them, but I always appreciate how well they match the low lights in the bottom layers of my blonde hair.

  After brushing my teeth—twice—I begin shoving everything back into my bag, but I freeze when I see movement at my right. I turn toward the open door, and the realization that it’s been open the entire time I’ve been in here makes my head pound even more. Wes is in his bed. And looking right at me.

  “How long have you been awake?” I ask, praying to all that is holy that it was after I got dressed.

  “A while.” His sleepy voice is gravelly. Deep.

  All I can do is stand here with my hands on my hips and gape at him. What do I say to that?

  “You know,” he begins, seemingly unfazed by my embarrassment. “You looked nice yesterday, but I like this look better.”

  “Now is not the time to joke around with me.”

  He rolls his eyes. “Not joking. I’m dead serious. Your wild hair, the glasses, the band shirt, bare feet . . . it looks good on you. I’m not the type to say shit I don’t mean.”

  If I didn’t know what to say before, I certainly don’t now. And this is totally not like me at all. I’m never speechless. I never blush. Why in the hell does he affect me like that?

  “You’re a little testy this morning. Hangover?” He rolls onto his back and rests his hands behind his head, leaving his chest exposed and causing a little flutter in my stomach.

  “Yes.” Finally, the real me decides to break out. “I have to know. Did you see the whole show or did you wake up after I was dressed?”

  He huffs out a little laugh and rolls back to his side, folding the blankets back and standing. Inside my head, I’m screaming and bouncing around like a psycho cheerleader. He’s a nude sleeper apparently. Wes stands and walks into his closet, bare-assed and completely gorgeous, and he yanks some jersey knit pants from the shelf and steps into them before walking into the bathroom like it’s no big deal.

  “Now we’re even, sweetheart.” He taps me on the nose and turns to a cabinet on the wall, extracting a bottle of pain relievers and pouring some into his hand. “Open.”

  I’m too stunned at the moment to resist his orders, so I drop my jaw, creating just enough of an opening for him to place to pills on my tongue. Wes takes a paper cup from a dispenser, fills it with water, and hands it to me. After I wash down the pills, he takes it back from me and does the same.

  “Thank you,” I say softly.

  “Least I can do since it’s partly my fault.” Wes squeezes toothpaste onto his brush and begins scrubbing his teeth. “And I figure I owe you for the birthday wish come true,” he says with a mouth full of suds.

  I slap my hands over my mouth. “Oh! I forgot you kissed me!”

  He rinses his mouth and pats it dry. “That memorable, huh? But don’t forget you kissed me back.”

  Horror floods into me. “Please tell me that’s all I forgot.”

  “I remember a few other things.”

  I sink onto the side of the tub. My head is whirling, but I don’t think it’s the hangover causing it. “Never in my life. I’ve never forgotten sex before. I didn’t realize I was that drunk, though. Was I horrible?”

  “If we’d had sex, sweetheart, I’m damn sure you wouldn’t forget it.” Wes kneels in front of me. “You fell asleep. I was holding you after we kissed a while, and you passed smooth out. It wasn’t easy carrying you with both of us wet, but I somehow got you in bed after fighting you to get your t-shirt back on. I normally don’t stay overnight here, and I was going to have someone drive me home, but I was afraid you’d get sick. So I left both bathroom doors open, so I could hear if you got up, and I went to bed. That just about sums it up.”

  “Seriously? I think I would’ve rather had you tell me that we had kinky sex in the pool house instead. I’m mortified that I was so drunk that I passed out. It was your birthday, and you had to take care of me.”

  Wes lifts my chin with the tip of his finger. “Didn’t say I had to. You were decent to me yesterday, even after I was an ass to you. You called me out on my bullshit, and you didn’t let me wallow in my own misery. I can use a friend like you. So I did what any good friend would do . . . I made sure I was around to get you a trash can in case you needed to puke.”

  Such a guy thing to say, but nevertheless, still very nice of him. “Friend, huh?”

  “I’m sorry if I led you on by kissing you, but that’s all I can be. Not because of Allison . . . because of me. I don’t want to be in a relationship. I’m not going to screw with some girl’s emotions and pretend that my heart is in it. I can’t be that guy.”

  “You didn’t lead me on, Wes. It was just a kiss.” A damn good one. “But I appreciate your honesty, as I’m sure most women would. And I just happen to be in the market for a new guy friend. My last one, Tanner, decided to just use me for sex, so he got fired a couple of days ago.”

  “Hmm, so I guess adding some benefits to our friendship is out of the question?”

  When I narrow my eyes at him, he laughs. “Kidding! Come on.” He stands and pulls me up to my feet. “You’ll feel better after you eat something. Trust me.”

  I follow Wes downstairs, which I realize far too late that it opens me up to some intense questioning later. Makenna’s lazy gaze widens after watching me follow the half-naked Wes downstairs.

  “Mornin’, Mak,” he calls out to her before turning into the kitchen. “Where’s Shane?”

  Before she can answer him, the back door swings wide open, and Shane steps through with an empty trash can. His eyes sweep from Wes’ bare chest, to me, and then back to Wes. “Hey, bro.”

  Wes throws the standard guy nod in his direction. “Hey. Everybody already gone?”

  “Yeah, we had a bunch of people still passed out in the living room when I got up, but they left a bit ago.”

  “Good. I’ll help you clean up after breakfast. Want some pancakes?”

  Shane looks at him as if he’s speaking a different language. “You don’t cook.”

  “I cook all the time, asshole. Just not normally here.”

  He throws his hands up and chuckles. “Okay, fine. Mak and I will both have some. We haven’t eaten yet.”

  “How about you, Callie? Pancakes okay?”

  “Sure. Want some help?”

  “Nah. I’ve got it under control. Why don’t you just relax until those pain relievers kick in?”

  “Okay.” I sink into the cushion next to Makenna, and I can feel her looking at me.

  While he cooks, Shane continues to make order of the chaos in the house, and Makenna and I sit silently on the couch. She may not be saying anything, but I can almost hear the questions racing through her mind right now. She thinks she’s intuitive, but she’s rarely right. She’s notorious for jumping to conclusions, and she’s practically bounding right now.

  Makenna nudges my side. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” she whispers.

  “What do you mean?” Playing dumb drives her crazy, and I’m happy to be her chauffeur.

  “You know exactly what I mean!” She “whispers” loud enough that both Shane and Wes whip their heads in our direction. She looks back at the television until they go back to their own business.

  “Callie, please. The suspense is killing me. First, you and Wes were nowhere to be found for half the night. Then, he comes and finds me after two in the morning to tell me that you passed out, but he had gotten you safely in bed. Then, you walk down here together this morning, looking quite pleased, I might add. Your hair is still damp from a shower, and he never walks around me without a shirt on. He’s even concerned with you having a headache. Not failing to mention, he’s suddenly Mr. Happy after be
ing grumpy all day yesterday. Did the two of you . . . you know . . .”

  “God, Makenna, slow down. You’d make a horrible detective.”

  Wes must have heard me because he looks at us with a grin. I’m sure he knows what she thinks, and he seems awfully pleased with himself.

  “Cal, I can’t be totally off base here. There are far too many factors that seem to match my theory.”

  I don’t say a word. I just get up and walk to the fridge and pull out some juice and grab a glass from the cabinet. While I’m pouring, I whisper to Wes. “Wanna have some fun?”

  “With Makenna? I’m always game.”

  “Play along.” I put the juice back in the fridge and lean against the counter to take a long sip, making sure that Makenna can see me looking up and down Wes’ body with a satisfied grin. Looking through my glass as I drink, I can see her jaw drop. It’s killing me to keep a straight face. I finish my drink, rinse my glass, and stand next to Wes, pretending to watch him cook.

  “Hmm . . . you’re just missing one thing. I like chocolate chips in mine. You have any?”

  “That does sound good. I think there’s still some left from Makenna’s cookies yesterday. Pantry. Right side, I think.”

  I find the chocolate chips easily and unfold the top of the bag. Sprinkling them into my hand, I drop some into the batter he just poured into the pan. There are still quite a few left, so I pop them into my mouth. “Want some?” I ask Wes innocently.

  “Sure.”

  I jump up to sit on the counter by the stove and pour a few more into my palm. Pinching one between my thumb and index finger, I lift it to Wes’ parted lips, and he leans in, taking my fingers in his mouth and sucking on them with a low hum.

  “Mmm, more.” He slides the last pancake onto a plate and turns the burner off. He surprises me by moving over to stand between my legs and sliding his hands up my bare thighs. “You and chocolate are a good combination.”

  It wouldn’t take much for me to forget this isn’t for real, that we’re only playing a trick on Makenna and Shane. I flash a shy smile, bringing another chunk of chocolate to his lips. He grasps my wrist this time, holding my hand still to suck my thumb deeper into his mouth. I hear Makenna’s soft gasp from the living room, and it’s all I can do to hide my smile.

  It falls away easily, though, when Wes picks up a single chocolate chip and places it on the tip of his tongue. He raises his eyebrows at me, daring me to take it to the next level.

  Challenge accepted.

  I reach around his waist to pull him close, and his hands instinctively slide up to grip my hips. He sticks his tongue out a little farther just before I close my lips around it, sucking off the softened chocolate, probably a little too eagerly. A groan escapes his throat, and I feel his fingers digging into my flesh. I’m sure he doesn’t realize it, but he tastes damn good with chocolate, too.

  I start to pull back, but one hand clamps around the back of my neck and brings me back to him. This time, though, his mouth covers mine, and I lose myself in it. For the second time now, he surprises me with a kiss. A deep, passionate, soul-shaking kiss. The feeling of his smooth tongue swirling against mine, exploring every corner of my mouth, is unsteadying. Intoxicating. So so good.

  “Oh . . . oh my . . . shit! You liar!” Makenna squeals, jumping up from the couch. “Shane! You’re seeing this, right?!”

  Wes releases me, stepping back to turn to Makenna. “What?”

  She points at him, bouncing up and down like a moron. “You! You and Callie!”

  “We what, Mak?” I scrunch my eyebrows, trying to appear confused.

  Shane leans over the island and rests his chin in his hand. “Hmm. This is too weird.”

  “You and Wes.” The stunned look on her face is priceless. “You’re hooking up. Like, right in front of us. You can’t deny it now.”

  “Sure we can,” I reply, jumping off the counter. “We’re pulling your chain, Mak. I knew what you were thinking, so Wes and I played a joke on you.”

  Shane’s laughter echoes around the room. “They got you. Me, too. I would’ve sworn the two of you hooked up.”

  “No . . . no, no, no. Not possible. You don’t meet someone one day, and then you’re able to play a joke like that on someone the next. You were kissing. Like really kissing. Something happened, and you’re both too damn stubborn to tell me. Fess up.”

  Wes stabs a fork into a stack of pancakes and shoves the plate in her direction. “Eat up. I promise. There’s nothing going on. Seriously, we’re only friends.”

  “That close of friends in less than 24 hours? I don’t believe you for a minute.”

  I grab my plate, cutting my pancake into abnormal squares before stuffing a large bite in my mouth. The melted chocolate hidden inside unexpectedly reminds me of tasting it on Wes’ tongue, and I feel a strange heaviness in the pit of my stomach. “Believe it or not, Mak. If we were hooking up, you really think I’d be sucking chocolate off of him while he cooks your breakfast the morning after? Think about it.”

  She jabs the tines of her fork into the same piece over and over, making me feel a little uneasy. Finally, she drops her fork into her plate. “That joke sucked.”

  We somehow make it through the next few hours without anything else said, but she continues to look at me funny. She won’t approach the subject again right now, but I’m not stupid. The next moment we have alone, she’s going to pounce. All I’m worried about right now is trying to do whatever I can to move as little as possible while picking up the insane amount of trash left behind by the partygoers. The medicine helped for a little while, but my headache is coming back with a vengeance.

  I say it every time this happens, but this time I mean it. Never. Drinking. Again.

  It takes half of forever, but we finally manage to get the house back to the way it was. Shane tells us that the cleaning crew will be coming in this week, so we don’t worry with cleaning the floors and such. Then, we hit the yard. There isn’t near as much trash inside as there was outside, but without as many surfaces to put it on, most of it is on the ground. All of the bending is killing me. My head feels like it’s going to explode every time I squat to pick something up, and that’s making me a little queasy.

  “You’re looking a little green. You okay?” Wes approaches me as I stand to throw another cup in my trash bag. He places a cool hand on my forehead.

  “My head hurts. It pounds every time I stoop over, every time I walk. Even breathing, at this point, is more than I can handle.”

  “What time are the two of you supposed to leave?”

  “I’m not sure. I think Makenna said around four or five o’clock.”

  He tugs his cell phone from his pocket to check the time. “Come with me. I’ll help get all of this finished later.”

  “You shouldn’t have to. It was for your birthday.”

  “Callie.” Is it wrong that I love how he says my name? “I don’t give a damn whose birthday it was. You feel like shit. You’re miserable. Come with me.”

  I nod.

  He turns on his heel and heads into the house with me following close behind. I hear Makenna call out, asking where I’m going, but I ignore her. I’m feeling sicker by the minute, and I need to just sit down. Wes stops in the kitchen to fill a large glass with ice and water, and he snags a bag of frozen vegetables from the freezer. I eye him curiously, but he nods his head in the direction of the stairs.

  Halfway up, though, I think I’m seriously going to die. My head is pounding so hard, it hurts to open my eyes. But my motivation to get the rest of the way up the stairs is the bile rising up the back of my throat. Nausea overcomes me, and I take off, shoving past Wes to make it into the bathroom to heave into the toilet. I feel like my stomach is turning inside out, and my headache is only making it worse.

  A hand on my back rubs up and down the length of my spine until I have nothing left in me to give. I’m far too miserable to be embarrassed. I slump into the floor and press my cheek against
the cool tile.

  “Oh, no you don’t. Sit up.” Wes tugs my elbow until I’m upright, and then he wipes my face with a damp cloth. It feels like heaven. “Can you stand up without puking on me?”

  “I just want to lie here on the floor.”

  He snickers. “As much as I enjoy watching you roll around on the floor, I can’t let you do that. Hold on.” He crooks one arm under my knees and the other behind my back, lifting me slowly to carry me out of the bathroom. “You’re a lot lighter when I’m not drunk.”

  I feel the cloud-soft pillow under my head, and I sigh out loud. The gentle pressure on my skull actually feels good. I hear some footsteps and shuffling around, and then I feel a weight at the side of the bed.

  “I know your stomach is upset, but I need you to try to take more meds. You’re going to feel worse as long as your headache is that bad. Sit up a little, so you don’t choke.”

  I sit up slowly, and he hands me two pills and the glass of water. “Drink slowly.”

  Once I lie back down, he takes my glasses off, setting them on the nightstand, and grabs the bag of frozen veggies and rests it on the very top of my head. The cold definitely helps, and I can’t help wondering how many hangovers he’s had to know all the tricks. Then again, he is about five years older, and therefore, has had more opportunity for life experience.

  “I’m sorry,” I say as quietly as I can manage.

  “Shh. Don’t apologize. Just close your eyes and rest.” He stretches out beside me and lightly rubs his fingertips across my forehead. “Stop scrunching your eyebrows. Relax your face.”

  He continues to graze his fingertips over my face until all the tension is gone. The throbbing eases ever-so-slightly, and the nausea is only gentle waves now, becoming barely a ripple within a few minutes. I feel my limbs growing heavier; my breathing is deep and steady. Sleep takes me slowly, tenderly.

  Almost as tender as the lips brushing my cheek in my dreams.

  “CALLIE?” MAKENNA BRUSHES my hair from my face. “Feeling any better?”

  I roll over to face her. “I don’t feel like someone is stabbing me in the brain with a stiletto. So, yes.”