by Celeste, B.
He starts walking, leaving me to quicken my pace until I match his steps. “I’m just saying that you don’t have experience with guys. It isn’t surprising that you can’t see he’s flirting with you all the time.”
“He does not—” I stop myself, trying to think to all the conversations I’ve had with Zach over the past few months. “He asked if I was going to the game. I’d hardly call that flirting.”
Corbin halts and stares at me with distant eyes, as if to silently say, are you that dumb?
“Right?” My voice is tiny.
He swipes a palm across his face. “My bet is that he asked because he wants you there cheering him on. He never asks me if I’m going.”
“Yeah, but you…” Never go.
He nods slowly. “Exactly. He’s willing to get you to go because he wants to impress you. I don’t get hounded because he doesn’t want to get in my pants.”
My lips part. “Wow. Crude, much?”
“It’s true.”
“He doesn’t like me.”
“He does, Little Bird.”
We start walking again, and I soak up the information that he’s dealing me. I mean, it wouldn’t be the end of the world if Zach had a crush on me. Just … foreign. Despite the embarrassment of acknowledging that I have zero experience with guys, I don’t want to think I’m totally clueless.
But the more I think, the more I realize that’s exactly what I am. Zach never goes to the library because it’s the last place he’s interested in. There are two different computer labs he could have used to play computer games in, yet he came to the smallest lab the library has set up for typing classes after school.
“Huh,” I mutter, earning me a look from the corner of Corbin’s eye.
We remain silent the rest of the day.
My eyes go to the script in front of me.
“You’re kidding, right?”
He grumbles as I make myself comfortable on the edge of his bed. Fred is purring beside me, nuzzled up with one of Corbin’s hoodie drawstrings next to him. I scratch his head and coo at him while Corbin settles in his computer chair across from me.
“This is for a dating app.” I giggle, flipping through the few pages in front of me. “I don’t get why you’re even auditioning.”
His sigh is heavy. “Daniel told me it’d be a good idea to keep my options open at first. If the other audition doesn’t work out…”
“Hey, I get it.” I give him a reassuring smile and hold up the script. “It just seems weird that you’d want to do this kind of thing. Can’t he find other auditions for movies or something?”
“He said he would when I’m eighteen.”
“That sounds promising.”
“It’s also forever away.”
I deadpan. “You’ll be eighteen in July. That’s not even seven months from now. Plus, you mentioned anything helps with your portfolio, right?”
He just shrugs.
“If you get this part, everyone will want to use this dating app,” I inform him confidently.
It’s really no wonder his coach thinks he’d be perfect for it. He’s young, but doesn’t look like a teenager, and he’s attractive. Hot, even, not that I’d tell him.
One of his brows goes up. “Yeah?”
I pet Fred some more. “Don’t act like you don’t know you’re attractive. It’s the eyes.”
The two silver orbs light up.
I shake my head and lift the script. “You ready to go through this?” My eyes catch on the movie script next to him on the desk. “What if you end up getting both? Could you do the commercial too? You know, get the credit for it or whatever?”
He toys with the paper on his lap. “It’d depend on what the contract says. Some people don’t like you working on more than one project at a time.”
I frown. “That’s stupid.”
“We shouldn’t focus on that anyway,” he murmurs, scanning over the lines. “I might not get either. I didn’t get the last few.”
“Don’t do that.” If I had a pillow in reach, I’d smack him with it. How many times has he pulled me from my pity party after another contest was lost? Too many.
“I’m just being—”
“Stupid.”
“—realistic,” he finishes slowly.
I cross my arms on my chest. “When I called you crying over another one of my stories being turned down online, what did you tell me?”
His lips twitch. “To eat your feelings?”
I glare. “Before that, dummy.”
Now he smirks. “That your time is coming, you just have to wait for the right people to see your talent.”
My brows go up in reply.
“Yeah, yeah.” He leans back and scrapes both palms down his face. “I’m just worried that I may be putting too much energy into something that won’t happen.”
“Says who?”
He doesn’t answer.
“Corbin! Says. Who?”
“My dad, okay?” He blurts, looking toward his door. Getting up, he softly closes it and then leans his back against the wood. “He was having a moment and told me that I should think practically. Mom tried telling him that I’m good at what I do, but Dad brought up how I’ve just wasted gas money going to different auditions.”
Wow. “That’s … I’m sorry.”
“He never used to be like this.” He pushed off the door and grabbed his script before laying down on the other side of Fred. “The car accident he got into a few years ago made him a different person. He always had some anger issues that Mom would get upset over, but hitting his head made it ten times worse.”
My heart aches for him. “He doesn’t, like, hit you guys or anything. Does he?”
“No. Nothing like that.” He grabs ahold of Fred and sets him on his chest. “He’ll lose it and yell over stupid shit or hit the walls. Mom had to plaster the hallway of our old house shortly after he got home from the hospital. He found out he had to do physical therapy before he could be cleared for work and lost it. He was stressed because Mom wasn’t working, and bills couldn’t be paid on time.”
He pauses and lets Fred’s purrs fill the silence between us. After a long moment, he adds, “That’s why we moved here. It was kind of the start of the end. Some companies cut us slack until Mom could find a part time job to start paying things again, but Dad couldn’t get cleared in time. The bank threatened to take our house if we didn’t find a way to pay the mortgage. My grandparents offered to help, but Dad refused.
“Mom found a fulltime position at a local hospital that also had programs Dad could attend while he healed. It got him out of the house and got him to talk out his frustrations instead of punching more holes into the drywall.”
I reach over and take his hand. I only planned on squeezing it, but he interlocks our fingers and keeps them resting on his stomach. Not knowing what to say, I just lean against the wall and let him process whatever he’s thinking.
“Mom managed to get her parents to help pay the bills, but not long after that she lost her job. The grant that paid her and a few others was defunded, so they let them all go. Dad had just finished his PT only to find out another contractor got hired to finish his job because the people who hired him couldn’t keep waiting. Dad found a job out here and the rest is history. He still has his moments. He punched the wall downstairs after we moved in because the movers were late. Mom and I patched it up and repainted it to try matching the color.”
Nibbling on my lip, I stare at our hands and then glance at his face. One arm is bent behind him like a pillow as he stares up at the ceiling.
“I’m sorry your family has been through so much. For what it’s worth, your Dad doesn’t mean anything by it. It sounds like there’s something wrong with how he processes things. Plus, it’s a parent’s job to worry about their kids. Mine aren’t exactly keen on going with a career that can leave me homeless if a book flops.”
His head turns to me. “I know you’re right. It just … sucks. But wh
o knows? Maybe I’ll get one of these parts and finally be able to tell him about it.”
“He’ll be proud,” I agree.
He doesn’t seem so sure.
We stay like that for a while longer, our hands joined and Fred soaking up the attention we both give him.
It’s him who breaks the silence. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
He hesitates. “Have you thought about what I said yesterday? About Zach?”
Internally, I groan. “Not really. I still don’t think you’re right about him liking me. It doesn’t really matter anyway.”
“Why not?”
I lay on my side and face him. “I don’t like him like that. To me, we’re just friends. It isn’t like we talk that much, and we only ever hang out if you’re around. I don’t know him that well.”
He doesn’t say anything.
“Why does it bother you so much?”
“It doesn’t,” he quickly responds.
I roll my eyes. “You’re a bad liar, Corbin. You get all short tempered when he’s brought up. Ever since he commented on your acting, it’s been weird between you two.”
Again, no comment.
I flick his arm. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
I sit up. “Let’s just run lines. I’m not in the mood to be lied to, especially not by my best friend. Friends don’t do that.”
He sits up abruptly, causing Fred to launch off him and onto floor. “That’s what is wrong, Kinley. The friend thing.”
My chest tightens. Instantly, I think about the peck like kiss. Did it ruin everything? Make us weird? “What? If this is you saying you don’t want to be friends any—”
“I want to be more than that,” he cuts me off, pushing the script off the bed and swinging his legs over the side. “I swear, you’re so dense for being so smart.”
All I do is blink.
He stands up and turns around. “Zach and I didn’t get into a fight because he talked shit about me. He was being egged on by some of the guys after gym to ask you out. Said he’s been wanting to for a while. When I heard that…”
My jaw drops in shock. “You punched him over that?”
“I punched him because he was playing the cool guy in front of his other friends and it pissed me off.”
“So … you punched him?”
He throws his hands up. “Yes. Okay? Yes, I punched him. But you weren’t there. He always thinks he needs to play the part in front of other guys. I don’t doubt that he likes you, but he made it seem like you were head over heels and chasing him around like a puppy dog.”
Jerking back, I shake my head. “That doesn’t sound like something he’d do. Zach is a good guy.”
“Around us,” Corbin agrees.
My shoulders slump.
“I didn’t want to tell you this way,” he grumbles, pacing next to the bed.
“Tell me…?”
He stops and slowly turns to me. “Are you really going to make me say it?”
I just smile.
He locks eyes with me. “I like you, Kinley. You understand what it’s like to want something so bad it hurts. You encourage me to keep going, you get my eagerness for auditions, you’re just a good person. Sometimes I don’t think I deserve you in any form—friend or not.”
“Don’t be stupid.”
“I’m being honest.” He sits back down on the edge of the bed, his knee brushing mine. “I don’t want you to like Zach because I want you to like me. I’m selfish.”
“I don’t like Zach,” I remind him.
“Does that mean you like me?”
“Is that even a real question?”
He waits.
“Yes.” It comes out a whisper.
“Yeah?”
I roll my eyes and push his shoulder. “I just said that, what else do you want? What happened over Christmas … I don’t just let anyone do that.”
He wets his bottom lip. “Speaking of, I can think of one thing I wouldn’t mind doing again.”
My eyes widen when he begins leaning toward me. I start thinking about the books I’ve read about kissing and how everyone seems to be instantly good at it. The last time doesn’t feel like it counted as a first kiss. It happened so fast that I couldn’t think about what to do or how to feel or freak out about my inexperience. I never understood why everyone in books and movies made it look easy.
Just before his lips brush mine, knuckles tap on the door and we both jerk away from each other. Mrs. Callum’s voice cracks through the sound of my wild heartbeat as she opens the door and looks at us.
Corbin is holding his script and playing it off, while I just stare wide-eyed and silently thanking her for interrupting what I assume would have been an epic fail on my part.
“No closed doors with Kinley over,” his mother reminds him.
Corbin’s face turns red. “Mom.”
She smiles at me. “Hi, dear.”
“Hi, Mrs. C.”
She looks at Corbin again with a warning eye before walking away with the door open. Corbin clicks his tongue and starts laughing.
I can’t help but join in.
When we settle down, he takes my hand in his again. Staring at our hands in awe of how good they feel woven together, I say, “Corbin?”
“Yeah, Little Bird?”
“I’m not good at this.”
He drags me back, lowering us down so my head uses his chest as a pillow. “I’m not either. We’ll make it work.”
I swallow my nerves. “Have you done this sort of thing before? You know, dated? Kissed? That … stuff.”
His momentary pause makes my body drown with disappointment. It’s a personal question that I feel like I should know the answer to, but it feels weird to ask. I’ve always assumed he’s been a lady’s man considering the attention he gets from girls at our school. It’s really no surprise. Anyone would be stupid not to like him.
“Yeah,” he whispers, “I have.”
My heart pings with pain. Sitting up, I look down at him with my bottom lip sucked into my mouth. “I haven’t done anything. I’m new at all of this. What if it’s awkward or I mess up? I don’t want you to think—”
He cuts me off. “Stop, Kinley. Look at me, okay? We don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. Just because I’ve done some stuff before doesn’t mean I’m going to force you to do anything. You know me better than that.”
I know I shouldn’t ask, but I do. “When you say that you’ve done stuff, do you mean…”
Palming his face, he nods. “Would it help if I told you about it? Believe me, Little Bird. It wasn’t that special. It involved drinking and the backseat of a car. Not my finer moment.”
Say no. “Yes,” slips out.
He pulls himself up to sitting, leaning against his pile of pillows. “Sabrina Christy and I were classmates at the school I attended before Lincoln. We’d both been at a party a mutual friend held and we were drunk. I fooled around with one other person before but never had sex until that night. The condom my dad made me keep in my wallet busted when I tried putting it on, she accidently elbowed me in the face when she tried climbing on top of me in the back seat, and the whole thing was rushed.
“Honestly? I didn’t really care at the time because all I could think about was that I was finally having sex. Her car was parked outside of the party so we both figured why not? Thankfully, she had a condom in her purse, but we were sloppy about the whole thing. It was awkward, Little Bird. I don’t want that sort of experience with you.”
My frown deepens. “You don’t?”
He cups my cheek. “I want it to be better. You don’t deserve some random backseat hookup. That shouldn’t be your first time.”
Heart racing, I try taking even breaths. “I just want to be good at it, but I don’t know how. What if we decide this whole more-than-friends thing isn’t for us?”
Both his brows raise. “Do you really think that’ll happ
en?”
In truth, I don’t. It’s the gut feeling that tells me we’re in for a ride. But I don’t want to admit that because it seems weird to speak aloud. We’re young. We have dreams beyond Lincoln. Nobody can be certain of what will happen weeks, months, or even a year from now.
“You’re leaving soon,” I tell him instead.
He pulls me down so our faces are close, his eyes piercing mine and jumpstarting my heart in a way nobody else has. “I’m coming back for you, Kinley. Trust me. When you’re done with high school, it’s us against the world.”
My heart pounds so hard it hurts when he nuzzles his nose against mine. Breath against my lips, it’s me who closes the distance between us to seal the feeling imbedded deep inside my chest. The first peck is quick, quicker than the one on Christmas Eve. I close my eyes and try not to think about anything other than him, than us, and his promise.
It’s him who returns the kiss and holds the back of my head to him. His lips become firmer, rougher, as they work to part mine. Yet there’s a softness to his movements—how he threads his fingers in my hair, how he holds me to him as his tongue touches mine. It sends jolts down my body until my palms find his chest and grip the t-shirt he’s wearing. Trying my best to mimic what he does, our tongues twist and taste and tangle until I pull back out of breath.
His breath still dances on my lips, his nose brushing my cheek. I rest my forehead on his and squeeze the handful of cotton I hold. His hands drop to my hips, resting without any pressure or expectation for me.
And that’s why I trust him—believe him.
“You promise?” I whisper, swallowing and letting my chest slowly rise through every bated exhale.
His fingers rub small circles over denim-clad hips. Not making another move to kiss me, he pulls me down until we’re resting side by side. One of his arms drapes around my shoulders, keeping me locked in tight. My cheek rests against his pec, my palm just above his belly button.
He says, “Promise.”
Chapter Sixteen
Corbin / Present