There aren’t many patrons, but every eye falls on me as I squeeze into a booth and kick off my heels. My fingers won’t stop trembling—not that I expect them to.
A throat clears softly, causing me to look up from my hands. “What can I get you tonight?” the waitress asks. Her eyes move over me, but she doesn’t comment on my appearance, though there’s absolutely no possible way she could miss it.
“I need a shot of tequila, a rum and coke, and a Long Island Iced Tea.” She nods, pivoting on her heel. I grab her arm quickly, stopping her before she can walk away. “Make that two shots.” I hold onto her wrist as I consider making it three.
The waitress pats my hand gently, almost as if she understands my dilemma. I release her and sink back into the vinyl seat.
“So,” the old man seated at the table across from me says casually, a grin stretching his weathered cheeks, “big plans today?”
I huff out a dry laugh and shake my head.
“No?” he clarifies, confusion or disbelief crinkling his thick grey brows. He eyes my attire doubtfully, the silky material bunched around me and dangling from the seat.
“No,” I say quietly.
“You ain’t one of those runaways, are you?”
I laugh again, but this time it’s slightly hysterical.
He rubs his chin, giving me the once over as the waitress sets my drinks down. I gulp down both shots back to back and chase them with the rum and coke. My throat burns and I nearly gag on my final swallow, but I get it all down.
“Why you running?”
My eyes dart from my empty glass to the old man. He’s looking at me with curiosity. No judgment. Just interest.
“Do you think it’s possible to love more than one man?” I ask, my voice quivering as I fight against the tears.
His gaze meets mine and it takes him several seconds to answer, but I wait patiently, hoping this man can offer me some kind of wisdom. This is what my life has resorted to. Turning to drunken strangers for advice.
“At the same time?” he asks.
My head jerks up and down in a stiff nod.
He rubs the stubble on his chin once again before shrugging his thin shoulders. “I don’t believe so. Seems to me if you were in love with one man, you wouldn’t have been looking to fall in love with another.”
I shoot up in bed, my shirt soaked in sweat, my hair sticking to my face and neck. Kellin stirs beside me, automatically reaching out for me. I lie back down, snuggling into his side and try to calm my racing heart.
~*~
The past week has flown by quicker than I thought possible. I feel like I blinked and lost days. Kellin changed his shift at his job, matching it to mine, so we work at the same time.
When we aren’t working, we practically live within the confines of his bedroom. Our bedroom for the time being.
We lie in bed and we talk. We talk, we kiss, we touch. And then we make love. I fall asleep in his arms. And when I wake up in the morning, I know it’s one less day we have left.
I perch on the couch, eating a bowl of cereal. Roh’s on the other end, engrossed in an episode of Scooby Doo. He absent-mindedly rolls the ring in his brow, around and around.
“Do you think Fred is gay?” he asks suddenly.
I arch an inquisitive brow.
“Everybody always claims Shaggy and Scooby are stoners, which I’m not arguing—they clearly are. Nobody gets the munchies that bad without a reason. I get a pretty powerful lesbian vibe from Thelma. Daphne’s a gold-digger, using her looks to get what she wants. But what about Fred? I mean, he isn’t even hooking up with Daphne.”
“So, gay?”
He shrugs. “Maybe he should unmask himself.”
I almost choke on my food as I laugh. After I safely swallow down my bite, I nudge Roh’s knee with my foot. “You never told me why you claimed to be gay the day we met.”
He turns sideways on the couch to face me. “You asked me why you weren’t my type. And at the time, I couldn’t explain it was a bro code thing.”
“Huh?”
He sighs. “A woman is automatically off limits if your friend is—or has ever been—in love with her. But I couldn’t tell you that then. The minute we pulled up to get Sadie, you would have ran.”
Roh rolls his eyes, looking at the ceiling for a long moment. “Don’t act like this surprises you. You have to know Kel thinks rainbows shoot out of your ass. Just like you think he farts cotton candy and shits puppies.”
I crinkle my nose at that imagery. “I wouldn’t have ran,” I say.
He meets my gaze, his stare solemn. I can tell he wants to say something, but he presses his lips together and looks away without comment.
36
Kellin
After my shower, I throw on a pair of jeans and go to find Misty. We both work tonight, so I want to get my time in with her now while I can.
She looks up at me, smiling as she crunches on her breakfast. I walk around the couch, coming straight for her. She smells good, I notice, when I lean in and kiss her forehead before squeezing between her and Roh.
“Why are you eating your cereal dry?” I ask, eyeing her bowl. “Are we out of milk?”
“Almost, so I left it for you,” she says, her gaze returning to the TV.
“You left it for me?”
“Mm-hm,” she mumbles around her mouthful.
It’s small. Very small and probably insignificant to anyone else. But I think she just made me fall even more in love with her. She notices my amazed stare and arches a questioning brow.
“What?”
I shrug and shake my head at the same time. “Nothing. I was just thinking how awesome you are.”
I’m rewarded with her bright smile. Roh makes a gagging sound, pushing himself up from the couch. He stops next to Misty and nods at me. “Rainbows.”
They share a look, and I can’t say I like it. I’m happy as hell that they like each other. I’m glad they get along and can talk with or without me. But I’m not real in love with them having secrets or inside jokes they aren’t sharing with me.
“What was that about?” I ask the moment Roh’s door shuts.
Misty shrugs, setting her now empty bowl on the table. “Roh claims you think I have a magic butt.”
I lean back, raking my eyes over her. “I know that ass is magical.” I grin wickedly, making my eyebrows jump once.
She throws her leg over me, pulling herself onto my lap. Her hands rest on my shoulders, fingers pulsing against my flesh. “I like when you forget your shirt.” Her fingertip slides to my throat, to my collarbone, to my peck, and then across to the other, moving from one freckle to the next like a game of connect the dots.
Her hand skims over the spot on my abs and continues on to the one at my ribs. My head falls back, my eyes closing. That feels good as fuck.
And then she starts the entire process over from the beginning, this time using her tongue.
I clamp my hands around her ass, bringing her with me when I stand. “Where are we going?” she breathes, her breath cooling the place she just licked and sending a shiver down my spine.
“We’re going to do some magic tricks.”
~*~
I’m consistently living in two moments—trying to make the most out of the now, and wondering what will happen once this summer is over.
What does the future hold for us?
Where will we be in six weeks and a day?
I fear the answer to that question. And so I don’t ask. I don’t make a single mention of it, but it’s never far from my thoughts.
I sit at work, and though my job is as easy as a job can get, I keep screwing it up. Roh and I are telemarketers, selling magazine subscriptions. Even easier than that, they’re renewal sales. Somebody already purchased the magazine, but their subscription is about to expire, so we call and get them to renew. Hell, I don’t even call them. I wear a headset, so I don’t have to hold a phone to my ear, and I press a button on the computer so it c
an dial for me.
All I have to do is get them to say yes.
Before the camping trip, my sales were better than most of my coworkers. I could probably have sold flip-flops to people in Alaska and parkas to Floridians—I was that good.
Now, I’m not sure I’ll make rent this month.
Maybe I need to start looking at Misty as another sale—trying to sell her me. I’m fucking adorable—it shouldn’t be too difficult.
Of course, I’m no Mr. GQ.
I have never once cared about what one of my girlfriends did before me. I didn’t ask. Didn’t care to ask. And if they offered the information, I only listened because they wanted to talk.
It isn’t that way with Misty. There’s a sick part of me that needs to know about her past. Because those moments were supposed to belong to me. And the situation with Luke is…different. He’s not just her past. He’s also her future.
I tap my pen against my leg while I think. I need to come up with the perfect sales pitch.
How do you sell love?
37
Misty
Five
“Where are we going?” I ask Kellin, though I know he’s going to change the subject to avoid answering just as he did the first two times I asked.
“Is your favorite color still blue?”
“Yes. Where are we going?”
“And your favorite food? Still Mac-N-Cheese?”
I sigh. “I got burnt out on Mac-N-Cheese freshman year of college. Now it’s wild mushroom risotto, when made correctly. Where are we going?”
“Movie?”
“Wait, are we going to a movie or was that another question?”
He grins, but doesn’t look away from the road. “What’s your favorite movie?”
“The Breakfast Club. Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”
“No. You’ll find out soon enough. What about books? I have to imagine your favorite book from when you were eighteen is no longer your favorite book now.”
I smile with the memory of this conversation. “Sparkling vampires are still my favorite. You should give the series a try.”
He grunts. “I tried the movies.”
“And?” I prompt. He doesn’t answer. Instead, he pulls into a parking lot and cuts the engine.
“We’re here.”
I look around, taking in the single swing set and picnic table on one side, and a blacktopped half basketball court on the other. It looks like an abandoned park.
“What are we doing?”
He opens his door, stepping out and rolling a ball out from behind his seat. “You coming?”
I hop out and swing my door shut. “I could be, but apparently you want to play basketball,” I tease.
He pauses, his eyes meeting mine over the roof of the car. “Get back in.”
“What?”
“Get back in. Now.” I watch, stunned as he ducks into the car and starts the engine back up.
I lower myself inside. Kellin reaches past me, pulling my door closed, and then he guns the gas, causing me to fall back against the seat.
“I was joking,” I say. “I’m totally happy playing basketball. I haven’t played in a long time.”
He ignores me, curving around the pavilion, and pulling into a parking space. Without warning, he reaches across me again, pulling the lever on my seat. The back leans all the way into the backseat, making me lie almost flat on my back.
Kellin repeats the same action with his seat, but he doesn’t lie back. He turns heated eyes on me, his hand slowly pushing my shirt up to just beneath my bra.
“What are you doing?” I ask, though I’m fairly certain I already know.
He pops the button on my jean shorts, sliding the zipper down excruciatingly slowly. “I’m going to make you come.”
I open my mouth to reply, but I lose whatever it was I was going to say as he slips his hand into my panties. He strokes me gently, up and down, several times. I arch into his hand, wanting more.
His gaze settles on my face, watching me intently. And then he slides one finger inside of me. My lips part and I gasp with pleasure. Kellin’s expression doesn’t change, but the rise and fall of his chest moves quicker now.
He inserts a second finger, circling and pumping. His thumb skims across my clit almost like it’s an accident, but then he does it again. And again. And again.
My eyes close because it’s all too much. The intensity of his eyes on me devouring my reaction, the pressure building in my core, his exquisite touch, so in tune to what my body wants—it’s just too much.
I grip his arm, my nails clawing at his skin. My hand slowly slides down to cover his. My stomach muscles convulse as I thrust my hips, pushing into his palm.
Holy shit, he feels so good.
“Kellin,” I sigh his name. I press my lips together. I bite the inside of my cheek. His fingers move faster and faster, on a mission until I explode.
I gasp for breath as I float back down from my blissful high. My eyes flutter open, meeting Kellin’s that are still intent on my face. His hand is still inside of my pants, his fingers still inside of me. Neither one of us move.
“You’re sexy as hell when you come.”
~*~
I pick up the ball, tucking it under my arm. “You still suck.” I shield my eyes with my hand, looking up at him.
“I’m good at other things,” he says mimicking the conversation we had the first time we met.
I feel my lips twitch as I hold back my smile. He is definitely good at other things. I toss him the ball so he can take another shot. He dribbles a few times before he shoots. At least it hits the backboard this time.
“How is it possible that you’re still this bad?”
He grins at me, completely shameless. “I haven’t had you around to teach me.”
“I don’t think I can teach you,” I utter as I once again retrieve the ball out of the grass. He pulls his shirt up to wipe the sweat off of his face, exposing his toned stomach. My eyes move over his golden skin, soaking up the sight as I stride toward him.
I put the ball in his hand and position his elbow the same way I did for him when we were kids. “Make sure you follow through.”
He’s staring at me, not even looking at the hoop when he tosses the basketball. I purse my lips, contemplating.
“How about for each shot you make in the next ten minutes, you get to choose one sexual act—any sexual act—and I’ll perform it.”
“Sounds good. Give me that ball,” he agrees immediately.
“But,” I add. “For each shot you miss, you lose one.”
“Got it. Ball.”
I bounce the ball off the pavement and he sweeps it up and tosses it through the hoop in one motion.
He raises a single finger as he jogs after the ball. My mouth drops open in shock, but he doesn’t acknowledge my surprise. He steps up to the line, bringing his arm up and releasing the ball.
Kellin flashes two fingers in triumph.
“Oh, my God. Have you known how to play all this time?”
He shakes his head, his damp hair sticking to his temples. “Not when we were kids. I got better over the years.”
“And that little act just now?”
He smiles wickedly, the dimples popping in his cheeks. “I like when you touch me.”
“Then shoot some more baskets.”
38
Kellin
Four
Misty’s hand curls around mine, offering me support. Coming here is easier now, but there was a time I couldn’t walk away from my dad’s grave without crying. Without missing him. Without being angry that I never got the chance to know him like I should have.
We were robbed that opportunity when he died at such a young age.
For the first few years after Mom forced me out of Ohio and moved us back to Illinois, I was pissed at the world. At the men that murdered my father. At Hope for giving my mom the ammo she needed to run again after she found out about the self-harm
ing. At Mason for staying with Hope for those eight months because, at the time, I couldn’t understand how he chose her over me. And my mom for taking me away from everyone I loved.
But mostly, I was furious with my dad. If he had just stayed home that night everything would be different. Everything. One simple little act changed all of our lives forever.
I don’t know exactly when the anger began melting away, but one day, it was just gone.
Sometimes, shit just happens. You can’t control it. You can’t stop it.
Sometimes it’s meaningless, and sometimes…sometimes you realize that everything that happened after it is shit you’d never want to change.
Mason never would have met Hope. And I don’t even want to consider the spiral that would cause.
But the part I focus on is I wouldn’t be holding the hand of the only woman I have ever truly been in love with. I wouldn’t know her at all if it weren’t for that devastating day fourteen years ago.
Today, I can stand at my dad’s grave without tears or anger, and silently thank him for looking out for my brother and me.
We found happiness after tragedy. I have to believe he had a little something to do with that, and so I brought Misty here today so he could meet her.
I rest my free hand on top of his gravestone. The sun has warmed the smooth slab of granite. I concentrate on the heat, the soft breeze, the sound of the birds chirping in the trees, and on Misty’s sweet vanilla scent. I memorize it all and store it into my mind.
Life is too goddamn short.
It goes by too quick not to seize every day.
~*~
Misty’s head rests on my chest, rising and falling with each of my breaths as if we’re connected. Her hand moves back and forth, up and down my stomach. I stroke her hair, letting my hand trail over her back.
“We have less than a month left,” I rasp.
Her hand pauses, fingers flexing against my ribs.