Forever Kinda Love

by Clara Stone

  After all of Dad’s tears have dried, he pushes back. But I can’t seem to stop the tears rolling down my cheeks. For the first time, he wipes tears from my face. He gives me a tight-lipped smile, sniffling back his own pain. “Hope you don’t mind your old man dropping you off at school.”

  I shake my head, swallowing. “That’d be nice.”

  “Good.” He cups my face and kisses my forehead. “Because I told your ride to leave without you.”

  I hide my smile, imagining what Heath’s face must have looked like when Dad told him he’d drop me off.

  We head into the kitchen and Dad preps our breakfast. There’s a small jump in his step, and he talks about how things will be changing for us soon. That he’s going to quit his job at the warehouse and find something that’ll allow him to spend more time with me.

  A smile spreads over my face, and I squeeze my eyes shut, living in his affection. And all it had taken was me landing myself in the hospital.

  THE NEXT WEEK FLIES by without much drama.

  Heath picks me up, we go to school, converse with people, come back home, eat, clean, do homework, rinse and repeat.

  It’s now Sunday, and Emily and I have plans to spend some time together. Movies. Dinners. Hang out. The regular stuff. Stuff we’ve been missing of late.

  With senior year coming to an end for both of us, finals just around the corner, and cheer practice, we haven’t hung out much lately. The only thing that’s been off my plate is the senior fundraiser. After my accident, Vincent banned me from staying after school.

  “I know you want to control every aspect of this project,” he teases. “But give me a little credit, Carrigan. Everything will be perfect for the fundraiser, just as you imagined. Trust me.”

  I chuckle. “It’s not about trust, Vince.”

  “Well then, it’s settled. Let me take care of this.” His eyes twinkle with mischief. “If it’ll ease your mind, you can always agree to another date.”

  I swat at his chest. “You’re bad.”

  He winks.

  An impatient knock on the door cuts through my thoughts. Shaking my head, I skip to answer it, fully expecting Emily on the other side.

  “Heeey-aaa!” I draw out the word, confused that it’s not a five-foot-four girl with blonde locks staring back at me. I look around Heath to see if maybe she’s hiding behind him. Nope.

  Heath’s sporting his typical tan cargo shorts and black lacrosse t-shirt. But unlike his normal footwear, today, he’s wearing flip-flops. My gaze lingers over his bare feet a, feeling my heart rate start to pick up.

  Bare feet on a guy . . . yum. Bare feet on Heath? HA-OT!

  “So, I was bored,” he says, smiling easily.

  I’ve always liked his smile. As a matter of fact, I want to peel it off his face and hug it.

  “And naturally, you thought of me,” I tease, stepping out of the way. “Should I be insulted that you think of me and boredom in the same thought?”

  “You’re so boring that even the boredom would be bored.”

  “Ha ha. Is that why you came here, to get your fix?” I shut the door behind him, rolling my eyes. I follow him back into the living room and ease down onto the sofa, picking up the remote.

  “How can I not want my Ace fix?”

  I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from doing something stupid, like grinning like the town’s idiot. Shoving that comment aside, I start channel surfing, trying to ignore my poor little heart’s hyperventilating. “You’re outta luck. I’m going out with Em and Rock in a few.”

  He raises his eyebrows. “I didn’t see Emily’s car outside, and I sure as hell know you won’t be able to drive those wheels on rust anywhere.”

  “Hey!” I turn my head and peek at him.

  He grins.

  “Those ‘wheels on rust’ hauled your drunk ass out of trouble on several occasions. Show some respect, Iceman.”

  He growls and jumps over the sofa, flopping down next to me and sending me right into his arms. “Don’t call me Iceman.”

  I look into his eyes and see the warning there. I bite down on my lip.

  Don’t do it, Carrigan.

  Don’t.

  “Ice. Man.” The words spill out of my mouth.

  He narrows his eyes. “Say it again, and—”

  “Iceman.” I jump off the sofa and jet out of his reach, giggling.

  “Oh, you’re so getting spanked, little rabbit.”

  I gasp, my eyes wide. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Oh, I would. Better not let me catch you, baby.” His fingers brush against his palm, like he’s itching to make good on his promise. He takes a step forward, and I retreat a step. “I’ve been itching to spank your ass for some time now.” He pounces without warning.

  I squeal and take off running toward the kitchen, unable to stop the giggles. “The big bad wolf is going to get me.”

  His eyes turn smoldering as they land on my mouth. He stalks forward, like he’s trying to corner his next meal. “Keep pushing me, silly rabbit, and the big bad wolf is just gonna have to show you.”

  “You gotta catch me first, Iceman.” The thrill of having Heath chase me around the house—almost catching me, but not really getting a grip—is like a shot of adrenaline right to the center of my heart.

  I look over my shoulder, sticking my tongue out at him, before I open the back door and run outside. Heath follows me, always two steps behind. I know if he wanted to, he could’ve already caught me. But he’s letting me win. He wants to chase me.

  And I want him to. I want him to let me win. I want to forget all the other things in my life. Except this moment. This memory.

  Just Heath.

  Just me.

  Just us.

  “Come here, rabbit. I don’t bite . . .” His smoldering, hungry eyes land on my neck. “Hard.”

  A shiver passes up my spine. The memory of his hickey rushes into my head. Feeling bold, I blow him a kiss. “You need to catch me first, wolfy.” I dash away from him and hear his delicious laugh following behind me.

  He grabs my waist and pulls me backward, against his front. I gasp, my heart rate kicking into high gear, when I feel every inch of him pressing into me.

  “I’ve got you now,” Heath whispers into my ear.

  I tremble, my heart hammering in my chest, my breathing becoming labored.

  My body wants something that my head is fighting to gain control over. “W-what are you going to do, Iceman?”

  He growls. “Don’t. Call. Me. That.” His fingers graze lightly along the curve of my neck, pulling the hair away from my shoulder, leaving a scorching path in their wake. He runs his nose along the curve, to the spot right below my ear, and then down to the back of my shoulders, painstakingly slow. “Hmm . . . have anything else to say, silly rabbit?”

  My eyes flutter closed, and I lean my head back against his chest, leaving me exposed in more than one way. My breathing falls into a quick, shaky rhythm. “T-tricks are for kids.”

  A low, hoarse chuckle vibrates against my back. His lips form a smile against my skin. “Oh, silly rabbit, that mouth of yours.” He gently sinks his teeth into the sensitive spot that connects my shoulder and neck.

  I moan as my legs give out. His hand immediately splays across my stomach, half over my shirt, half on my naked skin.

  My body sizzles with need as a new kind of searing pain shoots through it.

  His mouth expertly sucks against my skin. A low rumble makes its way from his chest, transferring into me. I lean into his mouth. My heart races with an odd thrum, and oxygen becomes scarce. My chest heaves, rising and falling. I’m falling. Falling . . . fall—

  He spins me around. The front of my body is flush against his, our breaths dancing in the space between us. His eyes lock on mine, all teasing replaced with concern. “You okay?”

  God, no. “Yes,” I whisper.

  A few heart beats pass, like he’s determining if I’m telling the truth. “You were just . . . br
eathing hard . . .”

  “Yes.” Is that the only response I can muster? Ever since the accident, he’s been gentler with me. But seriously, come on. Can’t he see how much I’m affected by him? For a guy with experience, he sure acts dumb. Why can’t he just shut up and kiss me?

  A sweet, wicked grin appears on his lips, like he heard my question.

  I blink.

  “It’s time for your punishment.” Before I know what he means, he bends down, picks me up, and throws me over his shoulder. A sharp pain stings my butt.

  I yelp in both surprise and pain.

  “Say it, Ace.” His hand lands on my butt again.

  “Heath!” I yell and pound my fisted hands against his shoulders. “Let me go, you delusional caveman.”

  He laughs. “Not until you’ve apologized for calling me Iceman.”

  “No,” I respond stubbornly. “Ice. Man.”

  Another sharp pain stings my already more-than-likely pink butt. “Ohmigod! I swear to God, Heath . . .”

  “Say it!” He spanks me again.

  “Holy shit!” I yelp. This is no longer fun. “Fine! I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

  “That’s my girl.” He says with another spank.

  “What the hell, Heath?” I reach down to the waistband of his shorts, ready to give him a wedgie.

  “Looks like I’m missing out. Sorry, I didn’t know I needed to get myself a Dom for this party.”

  My head jerks up, my hair still hovering over my face. Emily’s smirking at me. Behind her stands an even more amused Rock.

  Rock grins as Heath places me back on the ground. “Well, Emily, looks like we need to bring our A-game to this kinky party.”

  Heath places his hand over my shoulder and grins. He’s shining like a freaking sun, while I’m dying of mortification.

  “ALL RIGHT, DAD. CAN we talk about this some other time? I gotta go.” Not waiting for his response, I press the red End Call button. Taking it one step further, I shut down my phone and shove it into the front pocket of my jeans.

  I wish he would stop his persistent desire to control my life. I got into Harvard’s elite business program with a full ride to play lacrosse. Now, he wants me to be fully involved in his business, too.

  I shake my head. Tonight’s the date auction. I need to focus. I don’t have time for one of his mind-manipulating discussions.

  I peek through the curtains that lead to the stage. Vincent and team did an amazing job. It looks like a runway for one of New York’s big fashion shows. Ace is in the center, prowling the length of the stage with mic in hand, a spotlight trained on her. She’s rallying the crowd for the next candidate, her voice booming with seduction.

  I blow out a sigh. Commence plan in T-minus five minutes.

  “So, what do you say, gentlemen?” Ace’s voice echoes through the gymnasium. “One-hundred-fifty to the gentleman in the red dress shirt. Anyone else? Come on, guys! This is Lisa. Head cheerleader, president of our senior class, and an all-around beautiful, intellectual woman.”

  Lisa stands with head high and shoulders squared, pushing her chest out. She does look beautiful in her black, bare-backed dress and red, six-inch heels—just like Ace said. But my heart beats for only one girl—my Ace. No one takes my breath away like she does. I slowly drag my eyes up her body, taking in the tight, baby blue, off-the-shoulder dress that leaves little to the imagination.

  Keep it together, dude.

  Peeling my eyes off her flawless skin, I explore my way up to her face. My lips part in bliss. Her hair is up to the side in a tight bun, pinned in place with a couple of elegant, artificial flowers. Unlike the other girls, she didn’t accessorize with costly jewels. And yet, she shines bright as the most valuable person in the room.

  “Come on up, guy that’s so underdressed for the occasion,” Ace says, gesturing toward the crowd. I watch as a guy in t-shirt and khaki’s jogs up the stage to his new date. “You are?” she asks him.

  “Lee.” He speaks into the mic, his breath heavy with excitement, like a kid in a candy store. And who can blame him? He just scored a date with Lisa. Miss Perfect-in-Every-Way. Well, perfect to everyone but me.

  “Our senior, as well as the junior class, thanks you for your participation.” The crowd goes wild as he offers his looped hand to Lisa and she takes it. They hurry off the stage. Lisa bumps into me as they pass, a sweet smile on her lips.

  “Good luck,” she says.

  “Thanks. I’m going to need it.” Especially tonight.

  Ace starts announcing the last candidate for the fundraiser. She builds up hype to get people excited. I feel anxious and . . . nauseated. What if my plan backfires, shitting all over my face? What if I fuck things up, and Ace never wants to talk to me again? What if . . .?

  I cut my thoughts short and tug on my tucked-in, orange—Ace’s favorite color—fitted dress shirt.

  No, this is going to work.

  “Girls, I hope you haven’t emptied your pockets yet, because our next eligible bachelor is the most wanted man on campus. Co-captain of our Lacrosse team, VP of student body, and the billionaire golden boy.”

  The crowd goes crazy.

  “Are you ready?”

  They respond enthusiastically.

  “I can’t hear you!” Ace puts the mic toward the audience. “Ladies, feast your eyes on Cranbrook Preparatory High’s one and only Iiiiiceman.”

  Growling slightly, I step into the spotlight. Apparently, my punishment hadn’t sent a clear enough message. My hand twitches as I think about throwing her over my shoulder and slapping her ass in front of everyone. But I can’t. So instead, I pat her behind and run my hand in a slow circle as a reminder. She stiffens, and I don’t hold back my grin.

  I hand her my fact card for the auction. It’s a list of things we like, don’t like, and stuff that the bidders might find interesting.

  I stand with my body tilted toward her, keeping my eyes trained on her face. She nervously takes a step away from me and pulls her dress down, trying to cover her long, bare legs. Her cheeks are flushed. She unfolds the card like she’s caressing a kitten and clears her throat.

  The shock on her face is priceless. Her eyes dart from left to right, her expression going through so many emotions.

  I bite the inside of my cheek, stopping my stupid grin from growing wild, waiting for her response. I’ve pretty much given her ammo to blackmail me for the rest of our lives.

  My dearest Ace,

  I want to share a story with you. A story you already know, but not really.

  See, there's this boy who was kinda lost for quite some time. No, he wasn’t just lost. He was the grumpiest ten-year-old I’ve ever known. He thought he had the worst life known to man. All because he’d lost something he’d loved dearly.

  Then one day, he came across this girl; a girl with bruises on her arms and a pink tutu around her waist. He saw her and, for the first time, he thought about something other than himself. He wanted to know what had made the girl cry, and how she’d ended up with all those bruises.

  So he did something he’d never done before. He forgot about all the reasons he was miserable and concentrated on finding a way to make her smile. He gave her a Damask rose, and with that one act, she became his reason to smile again.

  Since that day, a piece of my heart always smiles, because it knows you’re here with me. Now, I want to ask you, if you’re willing to let me have yours?

  The color in her cheeks shines brighter as she reads. A metallic taste builds inside my mouth from the effort of stopping the shit-eating grin threatening to break. I’ve never told anyone about the day I met Ace. But putting it on that paper and seeing the emotion rolling off her, I know it was the right thing to do. She needs to know that whatever life throws at us, in the end, things turn out the way they have to. Her eyes lift, gazing at the crowd before they land on me. Tears engulf her normally clear grays. A few heartbeats later, she blinks, breaking our moment.

  Then, I see the feisty side of
her come alive. She straightens, her eyes brighten, and she’s ready to give me a fight.

  Give me your best shot, baby.

  She clears her throat. When she speaks, her voice trembles slightly.

  “Welcome, Iceman.” She glances at me for less than half a second, a sweet smile etching her beautiful lips. “Everything and anything that’s shellfish is Iceman’s favorite.”

  I chuckle, because it couldn’t be further from the truth.

  “He’s looking for a date . . .” She looks down at the card I gave her, and her lips twitch. “A date that can have deep, meaningful conversations. He wants a girl that can pour her heart out while he listens . . .” She looks down again. “And gives massages. And ladies, don’t talk to him about Lacrosse. In fact, any girl that talks about sports is a big turn-off,” she adds.

  Which is actually true. There’s nothing that kills my mood faster than someone pretending to know sports. Especially Lacrosse. I’d rather avoid that topic altogether, than consider it a point of conversation.

  She continues on and on, listing all the things I hate, passing them off as my favorites while she works the crowd. I smile and enjoy every moment of it.

  “Is he good in bed?” someone yells.

  Ace stiffens, and my smile vanishes. The night was going so well. Why did some asshole have to go and fuck it up? Before things get out of hand, I jump into action. I saunter over to Ace and lean down so that our heads are close together. I wrap my fingers over the hand holding the mic and pull it toward me, bringing her closer to me.

  “Anonymous answer seeker,” I speak into the mic, my arm thrown over Ace’s shoulder. “You’ll have to find out for yourself. But for now, who wants to know if I’m a good kisser?”

  The entire auditorium shrieks. So I do what I do best—I play to the crowd. I take the mic from Ace and relieve her of her MC duties for the next portion of my plan.

  I walk to the front of the stage. “All right, I’m going to demonstrate three categories of kissing.” I scan the crowd and feel the energy pouring from them. “Who wants to volunteer?”