Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 95559 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95559 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
I stand. “I’ll go with you.” I dump what’s left of my beer into the grass and follow Thea inside. In the time I was outside, more people have arrived. It’s hard to move, and I use this as an opportunity to put my hand on Thea’s waist to keep her close to me. We make our way to the keg and have to wait in line. This is why I hate parties.
“I think I’ll wait and go dance instead,” she says as she steps away. I reach for her hand and pull her toward me.
“I’ll go with you.”
“Are you going to dance with me?” Thea asks with a flirty grin.
No. I nod.
Thea doesn’t let go of my hand and pulls me toward the living room, which has now become a dance floor. She spins and then presses her back against me. My arm drapes over her chest, nestled between her breasts. Fuck my life. She moves her hips against mine, grinding into me. I look around for her brother, but there are so many people here, I can’t see him.
We continue to move like this with our bodies together and our hands touching places they shouldn’t. To anyone watching, we look like a couple. We look like two people who have sexual chemistry oozing from them. To Thea and me, we are two people who shouldn’t be doing this. Yet here we are. I don’t know what comes over me—maybe it’s the fact I can no longer cope with being in close proximity with her—but I lean down and kiss her neck. I nip at her skin and suck on her ear lobe. She responds by arching her back and putting one hand on my neck and uses her other to cover my hand and move it to her breast. She holds it there, and I swear, she moans.
We stay like this for five or six songs until she declares she’s thirsty. With her hand in mine, I weave us through the crowd, ignoring anyone who wants to talk to me. The line for the keg isn’t long, and once I have both cups full of beer I hand one to her. She downs it and hands it back. I’ve seen girls chug before, but not Thea. I do as she asks and fill it again, but I hold onto it and motion for her to head toward the backdoor this time.
“I need some fresh air,” I tell her.
“I need some things too,” she says. I look at her questioningly.
“Do tell.”
“Well, for starters, I need you to get drunk.”
I laugh. “Why is that?”
Thea pulls her phone from her pocket and then looks at me. “Because in two minutes, it’ll be midnight, and I really want a New Year’s kiss from you.”
Here’s my chance to be as open and honest with her as I can. “I don’t need to be drunk to kiss you, Thea.”
“In about ninety seconds, I’m going to need you to prove it.” Thea moves closer to me and places her hand on my back. She takes a sip of her beer and sets the cup down onto the ground. I do the same. If I’m going to kiss her, I want both hands free.
From inside the house, the countdown starts. I step forward, leaving no space between us. My hand cups her cheek, and my thumb brushes over her lower lip. When the count gets to five, I lean toward her. “Three, two.” On one, my lips press to hers. Thea opens her mouth, inviting me in. She’s hungry and wants what I can give her. When our tongues meet, it’s like an explosion goes off. Everything around me feels heightened, and the sensation makes me pull away.
“Happy New Year, Thea.”
“Take me home, Ky.”
Not the words I expect to hear from her, but words I heed. I nod, take her hand, and walk us toward our house.
twenty-one
Thea
Kyler leads me through the garden and out the side gate of Saul’s house. I’m still a little in shocked at the fact I had the courage to make the first move. No, scratch that, I’m not in shock. It’s the 21st Century, and times have changed. There is nothing wrong with making the first move, regardless of who you are. If you see something you want, you should do everything you can to get it. And I want Kyler. Since our kiss before Thanksgiving and my break-up with Adam, he’s been on my mind twenty-four-seven. So, with a little Dutch courage I made my intentions clear. Four years ago, I’d never dream of doing something like that. Fifteen-year-old me is patting nineteen-year-old me on the back.
Kyler walks toward our house with a sense of urgency, and a nervous anticipation courses through me. Our kiss at the stroke of midnight was just the tip of the iceberg. We’ve been tip-toeing around each other for too long. The looks across the kitchen and the yearning to gravitate toward each other have contributed to the sexual tension between us. It’s an electric charge, crackling with a desire to spark. An aching need starts in my chest and slowly takes over my body, one which can only be satisfied by his touch. It’s the feeling of not being in control but not being fearful either, because I want to lose control with him. I want us to free-fall together into whatever we decide we want to be. Kyler told me earlier he doesn’t need to be drunk to kiss me, so I know my feelings are reciprocated. This knowledge just adds to the anticipation of what’s to come . . . of what will happen as soon as we find ourselves alone in the house we share.