Absinthe

by Winter Renshaw

  To: Absinthe@karma.com

  From: Kerouac@karma.com

  Subject: Re: Oh, you.

  Time: 6:38 PM

  Message: I really don’t like that guy.

  I laugh out loud, my stomach fluttering when I read his email.

  To: Kerouac@karma.com

  From: Absinthe@karma.com

  Subject: Re: re: Oh, you.

  Time: 6:41 PM

  Message: I know you don’t. I don’t either. I’m just using him to piss Bree off. No intentions of screwing him if that makes you feel better. Boys use girls for worse things than that all the time, so I figure it’s okay.

  To: Absinthe@karma.com

  From: Kerouac@karma.com

  Subject: Re: re: re: Oh, you.

  Time: 6:43 PM

  Message: You’re better than that. Not sure why you’re wasting your time.

  To: Kerouac@karma.com

  From: Absinthe@karma.com

  Subject: Re: re: re: re: Oh, you.

  Time: 6:45 PM

  Message: Is there a reason your responses are only one or two sentences? You know this app is 100% anonymous. There’s no way our conversations could ever be traced back to us.

  To: Absinthe@karma.com

  From: Kerouac@karma.com

  Subject: Re: re: re: re: re: Oh, you.

  Time: 6:46 PM

  Message: Well aware. But we shouldn’t be conversing at all.

  To: Kerouac@karma.com

  From: Absinthe@karma.com

  Subject: Re: re: re: re: re: re: Oh, you.

  Time: 6:47 PM

  Message: Then stop responding!

  I bite my thumbnail, my lips overtaken by a mile-wide grin as I await his response.

  But it never comes.

  It’s all right. I got my Kerouac fix for tonight.

  Chapter 27

  Ford

  “You have something … right here.” I point to my mouth, then to Sara Bliss’ as we eat lunch in the faculty lounge.

  She giggles, dabbing her fuchsia lips with a napkin. I didn’t invite her to sit with me, but we were the only two in here eating lunch at two thirty in the afternoon, and it would’ve been weird to sit at different tables.

  “What do you think of the school so far?” she asks, dragging her fork around the mushy frozen entrée she’s picking at. There’s a smudge of something on her hands, chalk or pastels or paint perhaps. “Liking it?”

  “I am.” I uncap my water, glancing at the clock. In twenty-five minutes, the final bell will ring. I haven’t seen Halston all day, our paths taking us in different directions apparently.

  The silence between us is awkward and stifling, and I still have half a sandwich left to finish.

  “Read any good books lately?” I ask a minute later.

  Sara smiles, eyes crinkling as she quickly chews her bite. “Not much of a reader. Sorry.”

  If I were a lonely man, looking for a companion and some decent sex on a regular basis, I could easily bag Sara Bliss. She’s a free-spirited twenty-something art teacher who probably keeps a cluttered house and doesn’t own a watch or a calendar. She’s attractive in a Tinkerbell sort of way, pixie-sized and fine-featured. But she’s boring. She doesn’t read. Keeps her opinions to herself. Smiles way too fucking much.

  And she’s not Halston.

  Sara finishes her meal, which smelled way better than it looked, and washes her hands in the sink. “Oh! I was going to ask you if you wanted to chaperone the homecoming dance next weekend? I was supposed to do it with Connie Seltzer but she threw out her back, so I need a replacement. If you don’t want to, no worries.”

  Running my lips together, I consider it for a moment, weighing my options. Chances are Halston’s going with Thane, at least if her intention truly is to make her cousin jealous. And if that’s the case, I should be there to make sure he keeps his hands off her.

  “Just get back to me by tomorrow or something if you want to think about it.” Sara gives a nervous titter before heading for the door.

  “I’ll do it.”

  “Really?” Her expression is lit. “Awesome. It’ll be fun. You’ll like it.”

  I doubt I’ll like it.

  I’m just going for the peace of mind.

  Chapter 28

  Halston

  Kerouac sits across from me, with Bree on his left. She’s in heaven right now, finding it impossible to remove that shit-eating grin off her face. I’m sure in her warped little mind, she’s pretending he’s there with her. That they’re together.

  But whatever.

  She won’t look at Thane.

  It’s like she couldn’t care less that he’s there, which is truly bizarre. I’d been thinking about this moment all day, practically reveling in how good it was going to feel to shove Thane in her face. Maybe she is over him?

  Kerouac and Uncle Vic do most of the talking, Aunt Tab nodding and “mm, hm-ing” every so often between running back and forth to the kitchen to bring out the next course.

  By the time we finish dessert, my aunt’s famous crème brulee, the buttons on my jeans are threatening to pop, and I’m wondering if anyone would notice if I disappeared for a little while and changed into something else.

  “This was amazing, Mrs. Abbott. Thank you.” Thane pats his washboard abs. “Mr. Abbott, thank you for having me.”

  “You’re so welcome, sweetheart,” she says, smiling with every feature on her face. “Ford, was everything okay?”

  “Absolutely. Can’t remember the last time I ate like this,” he says, gaze resting on mine. My mind goes to a dark and dirty gutter for a half of a second, picturing his tongue between my thighs as he devours me.

  Thane threads his hand through mine, standing and pulling me up. “Our movie starts in a half hour. We should probably head out.”

  I follow Thane to the foyer, leaning against the stair rail as he slips his shoes on, and when he’s finished, he rises, strutting toward me and resting his hands on my hips.

  “I’m so glad you decided to give me another chance,” he whispers before his mouth grazes mine. He cups my cheek, pressing his lips harder onto mine before slipping me the tongue. I close my eyes, pretending it’s not Thane I’m kissing in this moment.

  The clearing of a throat pulls us out of the moment, and thank god for that. Turning, I spot Kerouac standing in the doorway, keys in his hand.

  “Don’t mind me.” His tone is displeased, and he directs his attention to me, his stare hard and unforgiving with a hint of something else entirely in his gaze. Jealousy? Resentment?

  Passing us, he reaches for the door handle and shows himself out.

  “You ready?” Oblivious, Thane checks his phone, firing off a quick text to God knows who. He’s always texting. I don’t tend to care.

  “Yeah,” I say. From inside, I see Kerouac trekking across the driveway, heading home.

  I’d much rather be with him tonight.

  I just hope he knows that.

  Absinthe: Hey, you there?

  Kerouac: Aren’t you supposed to be at the movies?

  Absinthe: I am. Hiding in the bathroom. He took me to some CGI hot mess that has absolutely no plot and terrible dialogue. I’m dying. SOS.

  Kerouac: You made your bed.

  Absinthe: So you don’t feel sorry for me?

  Kerouac: No.

  Absinthe: :(

  Kerouac: You should get back to your movie.

  Absinthe: I know. But I’d rather chat with you. Side note: I’ve decided my type are really attractive, literature-obsessed intellectuals.

  Kerouac: Like me?

  Absinthe: No! Like me.

  Absinthe: I’m basically looking for a guy version of myself. The one I found doesn’t reciprocate my feelings, so …

  Kerouac: I know what you’re doing. Stop.

  Absinthe: Saw right through that one, huh?

  Kerouac: Just because I’m chatting with you doesn’t mean I’m going to make you an exception to my rule.

 
; Absinthe: I saw the way you looked at us earlier … when you saw him kiss me in the foyer. You were bothered by it.

  Kerouac: Your point?

  Absinthe: The whole time he was kissing me, I was wishing it was you. Just thought you should know.

  Kerouac: Get back to your movie.

  Kerouac has signed off.

  Chapter 29

  Ford

  “Whoa. I’m surprised you answered. I was just going to leave you a message. Why are you up so late?” Nicolette’s voice chuckles through the receiver just past eleven o’clock Friday night.

  “What am I doing up late? You’re the one with a five-year-old who wakes up before the sun.”

  “You know I have insomnia. Anyway, check your email.”

  “Why?” I ask.

  “I sent you an article.”

  Retrieving my laptop from the coffee table, I prop the lid open and pull up my email. A moment later it loads, and I sort through dozens of junk messages to find the one with her name on it.

  “Is this going to piss me off?” I ask before clicking the link.

  “Yes.”

  Groaning, I tap the trackpad and pore over an article detailing the recent success of our stepbrother, Mason Foster. According to the write up, his tech company was started when his mother gifted him ten million dollars (of my father’s money), and over the past five years, he’s started a software firm, a wildly popular gaming app universe, and an up-and-coming social network; the latest of which he sold to Facebook for over two billion dollars.

  “You done reading yet?” she asks.

  I see red. It’s not about the money—I do just fine without it. It’s about the entitled, undeserving bastard and his conniving wench of a mother.

  There’s a photo of Mason, perched on the edge of a desk in jeans and a blazer, the views of his office overlooking Silicon Valley as he wears a smug grin. But he’s sitting on a throne built by my parents’ time, money, and dedication. He didn’t earn any of this.

  “I fucking hate him,” Nicolette says.

  “Not as much as I do.” I press my phone against my chest when I hear a faint knock at the door. “Let me call you back.”

  Ending the call, I peer out the window next to the front door and see the outline of a young woman standing in the dark.

  Yanking the door open, I exhale. “Why?”

  Her full lips curl. “Not exactly the reaction I was expecting.”

  Hooking my hand into her arm, I pull her inside before anyone sees her. “Aren’t you supposed to be on your date?”

  Halston’s eyes roll to the back of her head and she makes a gagging sound. “I was about to die, it was so fucking boring. I made him drop me off early. Told him my curfew was eleven but it’s really midnight. Now I have an hour to kill.”

  “You’ve got to stop doing this.” I rest my hands on my hips, shaking my head before releasing a deep breath. All I keep seeing is that picture of Mason, perched on his desk like some self-made man who started from the bottom. And when I glance up at her, all I see is my future going down in flames because I want nothing more than to feel her naked body on mine, her hips grinding on my cock, her full breasts bouncing with each thrust as her mouth finds mine in the dark. “You can’t keep coming over like this.”

  “Okay, this is the second time. Ever. And you’ve got nothing to worry about. Tab and Vic are asleep. Bree’s babysitting overnight for some doctor’s family, and when I leave, I’ll sneak out the back door.”

  She smirks, stepping toward me and clearly not taking this seriously.

  “You really need to lighten up,” she says, eyeing my liquor cart in the corner. “Let me make you a drink.”

  Before I have a chance to stop her, she’s pouring two fingers of Scotch into a crystal tumbler. I take a seat in the middle of my sofa, rubbing my eyes and sinking my head back.

  “Here you go.” She taps my knee.

  When I open my eyes, I find Halston on her knees between my legs, holding up a glass of liquor with a smile on her fuckable mouth. My cock throbs, swelling against my jeans.

  “You need to leave,” I say. “Before I do something I’m going to regret the rest of my life.”

  Halston’s expression fades. “What did I do? All I did was make you a drink. Now you’re kicking me out?”

  “It’s not you,” I say.

  “Of course it is.” She rises. “God, I’m an idiot.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I thought we had a real connection.” She grabs her bag from the floor by the front door, flinging it over her shoulder. “And I thought maybe you were different, that we had something genuine. But now that you know you can’t fuck me, you just want to be done. So, fine. I get it. I’ll leave you alone from now on.”

  The notion of watching her walk out the door and never talking to her again, seeing her parading around the halls at school with that pencil dick boyfriend, sends a fire through my veins unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.

  This woman—this young woman—is everything I never knew I wanted in another person, everything I never knew was possible to have.

  And I want her.

  I want her so fucking bad it’s unreal.

  “Halston.” I move toward her with steady, confident strides. “You have it all wrong.”

  She rolls her eyes. “You’re all talk, Kerouac. It’s all you’ve ever been and all you’ll ever be. I know that now.”

  Cupping her face, I realize this is the first time I’ve ever touched her—really touched her. I let my palm linger, my thumb running over her pillowed lips.

  “I’d give anything to kiss you right now,” I say, my voice a remorseful whisper. My heart thrums at a dangerous pace, the distance between our mouths closing.

  But I won’t kiss her.

  I can’t.

  Her green eyes are lost in mine, holding for what feels like an eternity. Her scent fills the space between us, soft and wild at the same time. I’m seconds from telling her I’ll wait for her, that there’ll be a day when we can be together—until her mouth grazes mine.

  Halston kisses me, pressing her lips into mine harder, slinking her arms over my shoulders and rising on her toes. For a brief moment, I lose myself, relishing in this kiss like it’s the only one that’s ever mattered in my life.

  And then I push her away.

  “Why the fuck did you do that?” I’m seething, jaw clenched and shoulders rising and falling with each breath.

  “Wh-what?” She’s somewhere between laughing and crying as she floats back down to earth.

  “This is bad. This is really fucking bad.” I pace the living room before stopping in the center, massaging my temples and refusing to look at her.

  “Kerouac,” she says. “You’re overreacting. It was just a kiss.”

  Turning to her, I shake my head, lips pressed into a hard line. “You don’t understand. I could lose my job over this.”

  “No one’s going to know.” Her eyes widen. “I’ll take it to the grave.”

  “You say that now.” I cock my head before dragging my hand across my cheek. “One day I might piss you off and—”

  “God, no. I would never do that.” She approaches me gingerly at first, then rushes to my side, placing her hand on my chest. I brush it away. “I’m not like that. At all. I would never.”

  “You shouldn’t have done that.”

  Halston shrugs. “Okay, fine. I’m sorry. But your hand was on my cheek and we were standing so close. I thought … I thought that’s what you wanted.”

  I can see how she would’ve been confused, how passion and wanton lust would’ve overtaken her in that moment.

  “You have no idea how lucky you are that I stopped,” I say.

  “Funny. I feel the exact opposite.”

  “You shouldn’t come here anymore,” I tell her, though it breaks my heart. If she continues to stop by like this, we’re going to keep skirting the line. And one of these days, we’re going to cross i
t. And once the line is crossed, we’ll never be able to go back.

  Halston’s emerald eyes gloss with tears, and I imagine she’s not accustomed to crying over much of anything. She’s tough, fearless, with thick skin and a resilient spirit.

  But I may have just broken her.

  “You should go now,” I say.

  She does.

  And the moment she’s gone, it’s as if someone’s blown a cannon-sized hole through my chest, heavy and gaping. I take a seat in my chair, facing the window and watching her shadow move across the yard in the dark, her arms folded across her chest and her chin tucked.

  The berry-sweet taste of her full mouth lingers on mine, its taste turning bitter the second I refuse to allow myself to enjoy it a second longer. I should never have placed myself in that position—standing so close.

  I knew better.

  And while every part of my body craves hers with an invigorated intensity, I know deep down, I did the right thing.

  Chapter 30

  Halston

  “Girls? You ready? Your dates are here!” Aunt Tabitha calls to us from the bottom of the stairs, and I give myself one last look in the full-length mirror on the back of my bathroom door.

  I didn’t want to go to homecoming, but Thane managed to talk me into it, and when Bree miraculously landed a date, her parents insisted we go as a group. Besides, focusing my time and energy planning for this student dance all week has helped to take my mind off Kerouac … somewhat.

  It doesn’t help that I see him every day, multiple times a day at school, but lately I’ve been learning his schedule and taking alternate routes to class, mixing it up sometimes so I can be sure I won’t have to see him.

  Bree knocks on my door. “Come on. They’re waiting.”

  Tonight we have to pretend we like each other, but I’m hoping after dinner and a little bit of time at the dance, I won’t have to see her at all the rest of the night. Vic and Tab gave us a 12:30 AM curfew, and Thane’s older brother rented us a block of hotel rooms at the Embassy Suites in downtown Rosefield. Thane was elected homecoming king yesterday at the afternoon pep rally, and last night the Rosefield Tigers won their game against their unrivaled Cherry Dale Cardinals, so everyone’s expecting Thane to be there. He promised we’ll make an appearance and then we’ll bounce.