Kiss of Death

by Lauren Henderson

  “What are you doing here?” I exclaim, between bouts of burning-kiss showering. “How did you know where I was? Where did you come from? Why are you— Oh, Jase, you saved me! Jase, I missed you so much!”

  “Scarlett—” He’s kissing me back, his hands on my face, but not with the mad enthusiasm I’m showing. “Look, let me sit up—Scarlett, let go a sec—”

  But I can’t. I’m gripping him so tightly he has to put his hands behind him on the ground and lever himself up, carrying me with him like a monkey clinging to a tree for dear life.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask again, like a CD stuck in a scratch. “I don’t understand—why are you—”

  “Stop! Scarlett, stop!” He prises my hands off him and holds them tightly. “Let me get a word in, Scarlett, please!”

  I squeeze his hands back, staring at him in amazement. His hair’s grown a little, his curls more of a short, trendy Afro now; his golden eyes are glinting at me. And he isn’t smiling.

  “I saw you,” he blurts out. “I saw you back there. With that guy.”

  “Back where?” I ask stupidly, before I realize what he means.

  “I saw you kissing him,” Jase says quietly.

  “Jase …” I gulp and catch my breath, mustering my thoughts. Knowing how important it is that I say the right words, find a way to tell him the truth without offending or blaming him. “You went away. I haven’t seen you for months. And when I told you on the phone that I couldn’t be with someone who wasn’t there when I needed him … you didn’t say anything.”

  Thank God. I’ve said the right thing. Jase’s expression shifts from accusatory to embarrassed; he bites his full lower lip.

  “I was there for you,” he insists. “Just now. You’d’ve taken a header down that quarry if it weren’t for me.”

  “Yes.” I tighten my grip on his hands as he tries to pull away. “You were. Thank you.” I look sideways at the slope, tilting to the sheer drop into black nothingness, and shiver: I could be down there right now, badly injured or worse. And it would be completely my own fault; no one to blame this time but myself.

  “I thought you’d broken up with me,” I say, looking down at our hands. “When you never rang me back.”

  “I thought you’d broken up with me,” he says instantly.

  “No, I didn’t!” I drag in a deep breath. “But I missed you so much, and it isn’t enough just to talk to you on the phone every so often. I need you closer than that. I need to be with you, Jase. I really do. I missed you so badly, I couldn’t bear it.”

  We’re hugging now, Jase pulling me onto his lap, his arms wrapping around my back.

  “I missed you too!” he mumbles into my neck, his breath deliciously tickly on my bare skin. “I was so messed up … but when you said that about me not being there for you, it really did my head in. I felt so bad, I can’t tell you. And I didn’t know what to say.” He pauses. “No, that’s not right. I thought there wasn’t anything I could say. I went around and around in circles. And then I decided I was being completely stupid. You rang me ’cause you were in trouble, and I wasn’t there. And I should be there if you’re in trouble. That’s what a boyfriend’s for. So I got on my bike and came straight up to Edinburgh to find you.”

  “Oh, Jase …,” I say idiotically, my heart too full to manage another word. I’m determined not to cry.

  “I found the school easy enough, first thing this morning,” he goes on. “But I wasn’t sure what to do next. I thought, they’ll never let me in to see you, and what could I do in a girls’ school anyway?”

  “It’s actually a boys’ school,” I mumble, “but never mind.…”

  “So I got a bunk in a hostel and just hung around outside all day, waiting for you. But no one came out.”

  “They had us doing lectures all day,” I explain.

  “And then I saw someone climbing down a fire escape,” he says, “and I knew it had to be you and Taylor, because who else would do something like that—”

  “You were waiting outside all day and all evening?” I practically coo. “Oh, Jase, that’s so sweet of you.…”

  “—I was getting off my bike to come and talk to you, but you raced across the road like someone was chasing you, and jumped into that car,” he continues. “So when it took off, I thought I might as well follow you. I mean,” he adds dryly, “I didn’t have anything else to do this evening.”

  We’re getting to the dodgy bit now. I wince.

  “It’s a nice party, isn’t it?” I mutter feebly. “The music’s pretty good.”

  “I parked my bike near that old heap of a car,” Jase says, “and walked in after you. You didn’t even look back, you were much too busy having a laugh with those boys.” He clears his throat. “I wasn’t spying on you,” he says quickly. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I mean, I didn’t know that boy from Adam. It might not have been safe for you to be alone with him.”

  Well, alone in the middle of a crowd of people, I think. But Jase is right—having people around doesn’t make you safe.

  “And you kissed him!” Jase concludes accusingly. “I saw you kissing him!”

  “I’m sorry you saw that,” I say slowly.

  “And that made me think that maybe you broke up with me because you wanted to be with him,” he says in a much smaller voice. “Not because I wasn’t around. I thought maybe you were just making an excuse because there was someone else you liked better.”

  “No!” I pull his head down, stare straight into his eyes, crying now, but unable to help it. “There isn’t anyone I like better in the whole world! Jase, you have to believe me! I was feeling so lonely, and scared, and I thought kissing him would make me feel better, but it just made me feel worse—it was weird and wrong and it just made me miss you more … that’s why I took off and came into the bushes by myself, because I felt so awful and strange and lonely.…”

  “Really?” he says, his arms tightening around me, and just by the tone of his voice, I know that he’s forgiven me for kissing another boy. Not that, technically, I did anything wrong, I note to myself. We were broken up, or I thought we were. And I was careful not to apologize for kissing Callum—I said I was sorry Jase saw it, but that’s different. Instinct tells me not to say that I’m sorry just to get back with my boyfriend. This way I can be happy that I told nothing but the truth.

  “Yes,” I say, winding my fingers as best I can through his ridiculously thick curls, causing him to yelp and wince because they’re so tightly knit. “Sorry,” I say guiltily. “I like your hair longer, by the way. It’s really cool.”

  “I do too. But I can’t have it too long,” he says. “ ’Cause of the bike helmet.”

  “Right,” I say.

  And then we stop talking and look at each other, a long, serious stare right into each other’s eyes. Silence falls, a calm, all-encompassing silence, in which we’re not saying anything because there’s nothing left to say. And I learn that sometimes, having nothing left to say can be the most wonderfully peaceful thing you ever feel.

  I’m smiling with this realization as Jase lowers his head to kiss me and I tilt mine up to his. For a moment I have a flash of déjà vu, an image of Callum and me doing exactly the same thing only half an hour before. God, I was just thinking that I needed to find a girl with more experience than me to ask her about what happened with Callum—and now I’m kissing two boys in one night! How did my life get to be this mad?

  And then Jase’s lips come down on mine, and a flood of happy recognition sweeps through me, the softness of his full lips so familiar and wonderful that it’s like coming home—if coming home were the most exciting thing that you could possibly imagine.

  “I love you,” I say against his mouth, and I feel, more than hear, him say it back to me as my eyes close in sheer, perfect happiness at being back with Jase again, being able to touch him, run my hands up and down his arms, feel him pressing tightly against me, knowing this is where we belong. I know
we’re back together now, back to being a couple; that Jase has fought his demons and discovered that what he feels about me is more important than what our families did in the past.

  And I make a silent promise to him: that I’ll never bring it up, never reproach him with it. What his father did is not his fault, and if we’re going to have a chance of staying together, I have to show him that I truly believe that.

  Jase is kissing my neck now, and I’m stroking his hair, making the sort of noises that would really embarrass me if I heard them coming from someone else. But I don’t care. There’s no one around; we’re alone here, in this strange, bare landscape, clinging to each other as if we’d die if we weren’t touching. And I’m letting go. It feels almost as it did when I thought I was plummeting down the ragged stone quarry, arms outstretched frantically, knowing nothing would break my fall.

  I’m falling now just as hard. Just as fast, just as deep. Letting go just as much. Falling into Jase, as he’s falling into me.

  “Do you realize”—I gasp against his head—“this is the first time we’ve ever been really alone like this? I mean, without having to worry about my aunt or your dad catching us?”

  Jase bites my neck lightly and looks up at me, his eyes now gleaming gold with happiness and excitement.

  “Yeah,” he says dryly. “Typical of us that it’s in the middle of a freezing stone quarry with half the gravel in Scotland sticking into my bum! Couldn’t we have picked some cozy place with, I dunno, comfy seats and central heating?”

  It’s true: Jase and I do seem doomed to make out in uncomfortable locations. Even when he and I spent a night together in my bedroom back at Wakefield Hall, we were squashed together on my single mattress, pulled off the bed onto the floor, having to keep very quiet because of Aunt Gwen sleeping next door, and Jase had to climb out the window at dawn.

  “There’s been much too much drama,” I say, squishing down in his lap so I can kiss his neck in return. “You know what I’d love? A really boring, normal, bog-standard life.”

  “No chance of that, babe,” Jase says, sighing in pleasure as I slip my hands under his jacket and sweater, pulling up his T-shirt to touch his bare skin. “I think drama’s always going to follow you round.”

  “It never used to,” I say, running my hands up his chest. “I was Little Miss Boring for sixteen whole years.”

  “Well”—Jase starts to pull up my own layers of clothing, sending pulses of electricity up and down my spine—“I’d say you’re definitely making up for that now.…”

  And then he yelps with surprise as my jacket buzzes under his eager fingers.

  “It’s my phone—sorry.” I drag it out of my jacket pocket and answer it, my conscience suddenly poking me with sharp sticks. “Taylor!” I start apologetically, but she’s far ahead of me.

  “Scarlett! I was freaking out!” she yells. “Where are you? Callum said you went for a pee and never came back, but he’s acting sort of weird so I thought there was more to it, but he said no, you really did just go for a pee, so I said why wasn’t he worried that you hadn’t come back, and he said maybe you went off to listen to some music or came to find us, which sounded totally lame—like, why wouldn’t he have worried? And I—”

  You can tell that Taylor’s in amazing shape; she’s got such good lung capacity that she doesn’t even pause for breath during that rant.

  “I’m with Jase!” I say loudly, cutting through her stream of consciousness by main force.

  She actually stops dead at that, as if I’d slammed the wind out of her.

  “What?” she says eventually, sounding stunned.

  “He came up to Edinburgh to see me,” I explain, in a voice that would be beaming if that were possible.

  “Huh.” Taylor processes this and launches into another stream of words. “How did he know where you were? Did you call him? You didn’t tell me you called him! And are you by the bonfire? I walked all around it looking for you, but it’s so dark!”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, genuinely remorseful at having worried her. “No, we’re off by this other quarry. Like a huge hole in the ground.”

  “Wow, sounds majorly romantic,” she drawls. “Hanging out by a huge hole in the ground. Well, I’ll fill the guys in on what you’re up to, and let you get back to whatever you were doing, okay? Sorry I broke the flow.”

  We didn’t actually stop, I think, blushing; Jase has pulled up my sweater and T-shirt and I’m writhing with pleasure at what he’s doing right now.

  “I’ll call you when we’re getting ready to go,” she concludes.

  “Great,” I squeak as Jase’s fingers find a particularly sensitive spot.

  “Eew, you’re at it while I’m on the phone with you? Gross,” Taylor says, and hangs up.

  “Don’t stop,” I say to Jase, shoving the phone back at my pocket, missing, and hearing it fall to the ground without even caring. “Just don’t stop.…”

  And later on, it’s him begging me not to stop, neither of us caring how much the gravel digs into us through our jeans, how cold it is wherever we’re not touching each other, how eerie it is out here in the pale gray moonlight; we’re barely aware of anything but each other’s bodies, how wonderful it is to be back together, how totally and completely right everything feels, how amazing it is that we can drive each other this crazy and, even while we let go and fall, know that we’re completely safe, that our landings will be soft and sweet, cushioned in each other’s arms.

  “I love you, Scarlett,” Jase says when we swim back to consciousness, taking the hand that’s lying across his chest and kissing its palm. “I know it’s not going to be easy, being together. I can’t promise it’s not going to get to me, this crap with my dad and your parents. I can’t promise I won’t get my head messed up with it and that it might come between us sometimes. But I love you, and I won’t just disappear on you anymore.”

  “Good,” I say fervently, ducking my head to kiss his arm. “Because I don’t think I could bear it if you ever did that again.”

  “I won’t,” he says quietly. “I promise.”

  Dawn’s almost breaking as we walk slowly back through the bushes, hand in hand, Jase navigating our way and holding back branches for me in a very gentlemanly fashion. Boys, I’ve noticed, act very protectively when they like you, as if you couldn’t manage to open doors or find your own way through a wood without falling over and smacking your head open. I bite my tongue, because I’ve worked out by now that this behavior doesn’t mean that Jase thinks I’m a silly girl who couldn’t cope for two seconds out in the world by myself. He wants to show how much he cares about me, and this is one of the ways boys do it.

  When we reach the main path, we join the steady flow of people walking back to their cars carrying instruments, rolled-up rugs propped over their shoulders, and black bin liners clanking with empty cans and bottles. A tall, skinny white boy with a head of dreadlocks that look like they weigh more than he does is dragging a small generator on a trolley, its wheels bouncing over the ruts in the path. Everyone’s yawning and happy, totally chilled, people walking in groups, holding hands, or with their arms round each other’s shoulders.

  I think back to my only other teenage party, Nadia’s chic penthouse soiree, rich kids clinking champagne glasses, and how mean and cliquey the atmosphere was. This is the complete opposite; I’m exchanging smiles with people we pass, shared, weary grins of pure happiness at having had an amazing, magical night.

  “Brilliant party,” people mumble to each other cheerfully. A girl splits off from a trio walking up ahead to give the dreadlocked boy a hand pulling the trolley, as someone else dives into a bush to retrieve some empty plastic bottles.

  I only ever want parties to be like this from now on, I think, blissfully exhausted, as we reach the ruined old stone house and I guide Jase around it to where Ewan parked the car up on the bank. Taylor, Callum, and Ewan are already gathered there, the boys loading their stuff into the boot, Taylor leaning against
the side of the car. She’s obviously had a brilliant time at the party: she looks as relaxed as if she’s had a full-body massage, her hands tucked into her pockets, her mouth tilting upward at the corners even before she spots us.

  “I think over here they’d call you a dirty stopout,” she drawls as we walk up to her. “Isn’t that the expression?” She grins at Jase. “Nice to see you again,” she adds.

  “You too,” Jase says, returning her grin. He’s always liked Taylor.

  “Are you coming back to Wakefield?” she asks.

  Jase heaves a sigh. “I dunno,” he says, not letting go of my hand. “I dunno if I can. But Scarlett and I are going to make it work, whatever happens.”

  I squeeze his hand, choked up by this public declaration.

  “Um, this is Jase,” Taylor says to Callum and Ewan as they slam the car boot shut, making the car wobble precipitately on the slope. “Scarlett’s boyfriend. You know.”

  Wow, this is awkward. I’ve been so caught up in my overwhelming excitement at seeing Jase that I haven’t had a moment to think about what meeting up with Callum again will be like. It’d be cringe-worthy enough even without Jase on my arm; with him, it’s positively nuclear. Hi, you know how I kissed you and then shot off like I’d been fired out of a cannon as soon as you put your tongue in my mouth? Well, this is my boyfriend. Taylor filled you in on him, right? I didn’t say a word about him before, but I’m madly in love with him. Whoops!

  If I were Callum, I’d be livid. Even though I’m as sure as I can be that Callum didn’t feel any chemistry between us either, I’d still be furious if he’d kissed me, legged it, and turned up hours later, beaming from ear to ear, wrapped around a total stranger and announcing that she was his girlfriend. I’d feel pretty used.

  Jase stiffens as Callum walks toward us, and I look at Callum nervously. It’s not that I’m expecting a major scene, with insults or even punches thrown, but I wouldn’t blame Callum at all for being miffed and making that clear—or trying to embarrass me in front of Jase.