Kick

by Dean, Ali

  He puts his hands on my hips and my arms wind into his hair as he pulls me into a long kiss. Someone whistles, another claps. When we separate, I proceed to gush about the set.

  “The last song though,” I say quietly. “That one went deep.”

  I don’t elaborate. Not with everyone around.

  Someone recognizes Jett then, and draws him into conversation. I almost laugh when the bass player for the band who opened yesterday tells Jett that he was the Indiana state champion in the 200 meters, and starts rattling off his times. People never stop trying to prove themselves.

  Jack keeps me wrapped up in him, and doesn’t seem so interested in the conversation anymore. This feels so good. How did I not know I could feel this good?

  I thought he’d be exhausted, but there’s an energy vibrating from him, and when he pulls me in front of him so my back is to his front, I feel at my backside just what kind of energy that is. Athletes have told me that after games or races or whatever, they want to fuck. Judging by Jack’s unmistakable erection, musicians get the same way. Interesting.

  “Would it be rude to take you to the bus right now?” he whispers in my ear.

  I tilt my head to whisper back. “Does it matter?”

  Though Jack was the center of attention a beat earlier, Jett’s stolen some of the show, which gives us the chance to sneak away without being too obvious. Well, it’s probably a little obvious, but whatever. This is StageFest. We get a free pass to go with the flow, or in this case, our baser instincts, while we’re at the festival.

  I tell Shay we’re going to Jack’s bus but we’ll be back to eat soon. I don’t need to sugarcoat it with my twin sister. Besides, she seems to really like that I’m so into Jack. I wonder if she knows it’s different with him.

  Jack’s practically dragging me between the rows of buses, and I’m half-running to keep up. His urgency is hot.

  Before I know it, we’re in the back of the bus, behind a curtained area with a love seat and a bunk bed above it. Jack doesn’t bother using the furniture as he moves his hands up my skirt and finds me soaking, from nothing but the sheer anticipation of being with him, and the knowledge he’s desperate for me. Jack curses and tugs my panties down my legs, sheathing himself in less than a minute. He has me in his arms, legs wrapped around his waist, back against a wall, before he even pauses for a breath.

  “Okay?” he practically grunts out, positioning himself at my core.

  “I will be in a second,” I say, all breathy and crazed. And with that, Jack impales himself, and we both groan at how good it is.

  Jack moves with purpose inside me, something I’ve learned is so Jack. The guy knows what he wants, and he takes it. His eyes are on me. No words are exchanged, unless you count cursing, as we moan, and pant, and finally cry out together in simultaneous and explosive orgasms that must rock the entire bus with their ferocity. Damn. I don’t think I’ll ever be the same after that.

  * * *

  We’re both a little shaky as we exit the bus. Jack is sweet as honey after, sliding my underwear back into place, pouring soft kisses over my shoulders and nose. But he doesn’t apologize for hauling me through the bus parking area and taking me like a madman, and that says something.

  He sang a song about me. At StageFest. A song that told me this isn’t some fling and I’m not someone he’ll be forgetting about after the weekend is over. Knowing this, holding his hand as we grin at each other, making our way back to the tent, I don’t have any of those ugly feelings that have been taunting me. Shame. Guilt. The ones that came from the episode with the piano guy, and that trickle in when I even think about being intimate with a guy again, letting myself go and enjoying it. I did just that, and instead of the ugliness seeping in, I’m soaring high.

  That lasts for about five minutes.

  Standing under the tent, looking right at me, is piano guy. And the way his lips curl up, I know he remembers me.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Kick

  I feel the blood draining from my face as I struggle to keep walking normally beside Jack.

  “Nolan, hey man,” Jack says in greeting, and I suck in a breath at the familiarity. “You playin’? I didn’t know you’d be here.”

  “Yep. Filling in on keys for Jessup.” They do the bro handshake and my stomach churns.

  Apparently, his name is Nolan, and he’s still doing fill-ins.

  “Hey, Kick. Good to see you again,” Nolan says, his smug smile widening as he takes in Jack’s hand in mine. My skin itches and my stomach churns with disgust. With Nolan, and with myself. Suddenly the moment I just shared with Jack turns dirty.

  I don’t want to hold Jack’s hand anymore. I don’t want to eat either, but that’s the best excuse to get away, so I make a break for the buffet line.

  I can’t make eye contact with anyone at the table as I walk by, even as I realize I’m probably making it all worse, drawing attention. But no one seems to notice or care when I return to the table a few minutes later with a plate of food. Well, Shay is watching me closely, but everyone else is still chatting with Nolan. Jack’s behind me now in the buffet line. There are only two seats left and I take the one next to my sister. Nolan is standing on the other end of the table, a hand on the back of Cassie’s chair.

  I sit down with my plate of food, eyes lowered. There could be pancakes on my plate or there could be fried pickles, but I wouldn’t know. All I can see is Nolan with his twisted smile as he told me I’d enjoy my night with him. Wanted it even. “Huh?” I say in response to something Shay says.

  “Everything okay?” she must repeat, leaning in close.

  She knows it isn’t, so I just shrug.

  When Nolan makes his way around the table and slides into the seat next to me, settling an arm on the back of my chair, I freeze. Part of me wants to smack him, call him an asshole, knee him in the nuts, and get the hell out of there and hide in my tent. Another part of me wonders if I’d imagined everything from that night, or if I really had given him mixed signals, and even though I clearly remember I told him “no,” I was probably too drunk to know exactly how it all went down. The guy sitting next to me acting like everything is cool can’t actually be the same guy who forced himself on a drunk girl, can he? Shouldn’t he be acting guiltier if he did something wrong? Why would he stay hanging around? I hadn’t shouted, hadn’t fought him. Maybe he was too drunk to understand I didn’t want it. Maybe I’m just a stupid, drunk slut who deserved it. After all, I did kind of flirt a little in the alleyway with him, didn’t I?

  “Kick, you look gorgeous, just like I remember,” he says, too loudly, so everyone at the table hears.

  I can’t make a scene. Not here. Not in front of Jack’s band.

  I don’t look at Nolan and I don’t respond, but ignoring him doesn’t get me anywhere. He keeps talking. “You want to hang out and watch the next set with me? I’m not on until tomorrow. We should catch up. Hang out.”

  My eyes dart over to him, and the look on his face appears genuine. As if he really means what he says. I can’t help but gawk. We aren’t old friends. What is he playing at? And is he actually making a pass at me after seeing me with Jack? In front of everyone?

  I have no idea what to say. Shay doesn’t know this guy or what happened between us, but she’s catching on that my sudden mood change isn’t about Jack, but Nolan. She leans forward and says quietly but firmly, “I don’t think Kick will be hanging out with you, Nolan. She’s here with me, my boyfriend, and now Jack.”

  Nolan doesn’t miss a beat. “Now, Jack? What about later?”

  Fuck not making a scene. I push back from my chair, fists clenched, uncertain what I’m going to do but thinking it might be violent.

  “If not tonight, I’m free tomorrow night,” he offers, still oblivious. There’s absolutely no doubt in my mind now about how things went down that night. He doesn’t listen. Doesn’t read situations, body language, not even direct words, apparently. He’s a complete and total dickh
ead, either thinking he can keep pushing and get away with it, or purposefully trying to embarrass me because I turned him down that night. Told him “no” and he didn’t like it.

  I’m half out of my seat, turning, ready to let loose words or fists, I haven’t decided, when an arm comes around my waist. “Hey Fireball,” Jack says. “Where you going? Food not good enough here?”

  Some of the tension leaves my body at Jack’s nearness, and I see Townie rising from the other side of the table out of the corner of my eye.

  Jack’s body, however, starts to tighten as he takes in the atmosphere. “Somebody want to tell me what’s goin’ on?” he asks, looking around.

  I’m surprised to hear Will offer an explanation. “Nolan here was hitting on Kick, and being an ass about it,” he says, keeping his voice light, almost like he’s teasing Nolan.

  Jett’s voice on the other hand, is hard. “Nolan doesn’t seem to know that Kick’s your girl. Not sure how he missed it,” he adds.

  Nolan laughs, standing up. “Wait. Kick is your girl?” He sounds incredulous. What the fuck?

  I almost growl at him, my fury taking me by surprise.

  “Yeah, so stop hitting on her, Hobart,” Jack says with finality before stepping into Nolan’s space, forcing Nolan to move away. Jack sits down, puts his plate in front of him, and places a hand on my thigh, squeezing in reassurance.

  Nolan Hobart laughs again, this time uneasily. “Got it. Sorry man. Sorry Kick. Won’t happen again.” He puts his hands up in surrender, walking backward. “Gotta run, catch you guys later.”

  I can finally breathe again as Nolan leaves. Not fully, but at least I’m not suffocating.

  * * *

  The post-show, after-sex euphoria is gone for the night, but I do my best to fake it. Jack doesn’t buy it, and neither does Shay. While I know Shay will ask me about it later, in private, I don’t know what Jack is thinking. He didn’t hear the entire exchange, and since he sticks by my side the rest of the night, I know he doesn’t get a summary from Townie or anyone else.

  After eating, Shay, Jett, Jack and I make our way to the audience to watch the last two bands close out the night. We stand in the back this time, and Jack pulls another hat over his head. His hair sticking out gives him away, and we’re approached every few minutes, which starts to get annoying. Even in the dark, people see him. “Next time, we’ll get you a mask,” I tell him.

  The bands are good, the vibe is good, but I’m not totally there in the moment. I’m thinking about Jack’s song about me, the way it felt like in a crowd of thousands he was singing to me. The pull between us when I saw him afterward, and how we had to have each other right then. How right it was. How good it felt. And how easily Nolan fucked that up and took it from me. I’m scrambling to pull it back, hold on tight to what I have with Jack, but I just know it’ll be yanked away by Nolan, or something else. What am I thinking? I can’t fall for a guy like Jack Kingston. And I definitely can’t let him fall for a girl like me. This isn’t like the games I’ve played before. It’s dangerous and stupid.

  As the band breaks into the last song of the night, I turn to Jack. “We didn’t get dessert. I saw this gelato truck we have to try.”

  “Take me,” he says easily, and when he takes my hand in his, it pulls me back closer to him, and I don’t know if I can resist it, even if I should.

  We find the gelato truck, a long line already forming. Jack’s got on shades and a ball cap, but like I expected, he’s more recognizable in this crowd now. Once a few people realize it’s him, a small crowd forms around him as we move up the line. In a way, I’m thankful his attention is forced away from me. I need to breathe. Just for a minute. Get a handle on myself. I wish I could play along, be in the moment, ride this out. Seeing Nolan Hobart, it was like a slap in the face. A reminder of who I really am – and why I don’t deserve a guy like Jack Kingston.

  We finally get to the window. I can never decide on one flavor. Two is impossible. Three is still a sacrifice. I get four different flavors, and Jack gets two, allowing me to try six total, which leaves me satisfied. With that, I’m ready to get Jack alone in my tent, our little oasis away from it all. Despite my inner turmoil, I want him.

  What I’m not ready for, and really not expecting, is Jack going straight for it, not even pretending to play along that I’m all good.

  “You want to tell me why you went from being right here with me to a different planet?” he asks when we’re inside the tent, lying on a sleeping bag and listening to Tom Petty playing from a campsite nearby.

  “I am right here,” I lie.

  “You’re not, Fireball, and I don’t like it,” he says softly. “You heard my song, and I know you got it then, that you felt it, by the way you looked at me when you found me after.” He goes up on an elbow, and when I still don’t meet his eyes, he rolls so he’s hovering over me, forcing me to look at him. “By the way you surrendered to me, let me take control in the bus,” he adds, his voice dropping a tone.

  “When we got back to the band, our friends, you went off somewhere in your head. I want to know what happened.”

  No way am I telling him what happened. My lips press together as I contemplate a response that will put him at ease, or a way to change the subject, maybe get him to start thinking about sex instead of talking. Before I even open my mouth, he puts a finger on my lips.

  “Don’t bullshit me, Kick,” he says, sounding almost wounded, even though I haven’t responded. Yeah, I was going to bullshit him, but how did he know that? “Please,” he adds, making me soften so much I think for just a second I might give him a shade of the truth, if not all of it.

  “This is scary,” I whisper, and my eyes widen as the words slip from my lips. I had no idea that was coming out of my mouth. No idea I was even thinking it or feeling it at that moment. But they’re the words that came out, and I can’t take them back.

  His face softens though, and he brushes hair away from my face. “You got freaked when I told Nolan you were my girl, didn’t you?” I try not to flinch when he says Nolan’s name, but I do, and I hate that Jack thinks I’m flinching for another reason entirely. Yeah, that part does scare me a little, but I like it too.

  “I liked it when you said I was your girl, Jack. But yeah, I’ve never been someone’s girl.” I think for a second, and add, “Well, a few guys have tried to act like I’m their girl, but that’s when I end it.” Seeing the not-so-happy expression on Jack’s face, I continue, “With you, I don’t want to end it.”

  “Good.”

  He keeps looking at me, waiting for something. I feel like now would be a good time for him to kiss me and move on from this conversation, but Jack apparently doesn’t agree.

  “So, you liked it, but it scared you?” he asks slowly, like that’s not quite enough and he needs me to give him more.

  The truth is, I don’t even know why being Jack’s girl scares me. Shit. Now I’m lying to myself too. I do know, kind of, but I can’t say it. Telling anyone, and especially Jack Kingston, that once he peels back all the layers, sees what’s really inside me, he’ll know I’m nowhere near good enough for him. I know I’m hot, I know guys want me, but I’m also… well, a fuck-up. A loser. And after Nolan? A dirty one. It sounds so needy and pathetic even thinking about it, saying anything close to the truth aloud is absolutely not an option. As much as I feel the pull between us, as much as I know Jack gets me more than nearly anyone ever has in a weird, somewhat unimaginable way, I cannot tell him why I am scared to be his girl.

  So, I tell a half-truth. Okay, more like a one-eighth truth. “I don’t know how I can be your girl if you’re touring the world. When will we see each other? How would that work?”

  His features soften even more at that. I see that he likes that I’m thinking realistically about what happens after StageFest, and again, that has the effect of making my insides melt and also making me a little more scared.

  “We’ll figure it out. I’m going to be home with my mom
and sister for most of the summer, with only a few shows scheduled. We’ll start up on tour in the fall and figure it out. I’ll be coming back to visit, and maybe you can visit me on tour, too.”

  Now that idea, I like. A lot.

  “Okay. Yeah, we’ll figure it out. It won’t be easy once swim season starts, but that’s months from now so let’s just see how it goes.”

  “Exactly. We have something, Kick, and I want to see how it goes,” he says, his eyes darkening as they move from my eyes to my lips. “I really want to see how it goes.”

  Finally, he kisses me. And this time, he takes me slow, and I like it almost as much as when he took me in the bus. Almost.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Kick

  Back on campus, I swing back and forth between questioning what the hell I’m doing with Jack and floating on an emotional high unlike any I’ve experienced before. Total bliss. It’s real too, not a fleeting sensation I’ve tricked myself into believing for a short time. With Jack, I’m vulnerable. Each moment together settles something inside of me, warms me from the inside out. Makes me both stronger and closer to breaking at the same time. I’ve never been happier in my life. Or more terrified.

  We’re in the pool practicing turns for the I.M., or individual medley. I’m trying to keep my focus but can’t help glancing at the clock every few minutes. Jack’s meeting me afterward for lunch with his mom and sister. It’s only been two days since I’ve seen him, but it’s the longest we’ve been apart since StageFest three weeks ago. He’s been recording with the band, and with my practice schedule, we haven’t been able to connect. I miss his easy smile, the way he bites his lip when he’s uncertain, and the weight of his eyes on me. He’s always watching me, and not in the way that most college guys do, but like he’s trying to see right into me, figure me out. It might scare me, but it also gives me a different kind of power than I’ve ever experienced before. Like I’m worthy of his efforts to peel back my layers, even as I know that once he gets to the inside, he’ll see the rot and run in the other direction. A tiny piece of me hopes he’ll see that those pieces aren’t rotten, but I haven’t looked closely enough myself to know the truth of what’s in there.