45. Chapter 45

45

Hope

"You read spicy books?"

I hide my face in my arms that are hugging my knees that are pressed up to my chest.

Just like he said, after school Heath took me to his secret spot.

"No," my reply comes out weak and muffled, opposite of what I intended.

"It fucking seems like it," Heath remarks in a witty tone that says he won't let me off the hook so easily.

"There's romance."

"And sex."

My stomach rolls in a wave of heat that shouldn't come from him saying the word ‘sex.'

Of all the fake scenarios in life, I never expected him to read my book—specifically the one with explicit scenes. I should've been more careful with hiding them.

My torment doesn't end. "Here I thought you were fucking innocent."

I peek at him through the little gap between my arms. "Everyone knows that kinda stuff."

Heath smirks as he looks down at me. " You more than the others."

He isn't going to let it go.

I groan. "Will you stop?"

"Why? Am I making you wet, Rose?"

I swat his arm. "Stop it."

He chuckles. "Fine."

"What's your middle name?" I ask.

"James."

I smile hard. "If only your name was Jack. We would be Jack and Rose."

"Then we'd be doomed."

I gasp in utter shock. "You've watched it?"

"Who hasn't?" Heath arches an eyebrow.

"I haven't."

His eyes narrow. "You're fucking kidding me."

I shake my head.

"Fuck!"

"My parents urged me to focus on my studies." Another layer of me slips away. It feels strangely good to tell him about my life, but at the same time also scary.

"Did you watch cartoons growing up?"

I nod eagerly. "All the time. My dad would be at work and Mom would do house chores. It made it easier for her if I was occupied."

A sad smile touches his lips, and he stares at the sky. "Emery and I fought over shows every single time. In the end, I'd always let her choose because she was one whiny kid."

"Or you were a good big brother."

"I tried to be."

"I'm sure you were. You're so caring and attentive. That's what a sibling needs."

"Apparently, not enough. That's why she isn't here today."

"That's not—"

He straightens. "Your parents, tell me about them."

I welcome the change of topic but also dread it. I don't want him to know too much. He'll be quick to join the dots together and see the bigger picture that I've been hiding from him all along. He'll know it's my dad who abuses me.

I look away to escape his scrutinizing gaze. I stare at the dusk sky, the way it stretches to miles till your eyes can't keep up.

"I was very close to my mother growing up. We went to the park every day where she'd swing me and make sandcastles with me. She'd also let me help her in the kitchen and we made cookies every Sunday. But once I got into school we started to drift away. She got strict, mean, and controlling. Perhaps she was always like that, and I didn't realize it until recently. The closer we were, the further we are now. It's not the same. Nothing ever is, I suppose.

"Then my father left because…" I pause. "And she got more distant. She missed him and wanted him back. She also started drinking which I don't think helped her to cope with the pain. If anything, it made her more sorrowful. I tried to be there for her, but she wanted him, not me. She pushed me away and I…" My throat grows thick. "Then she started working. I don't see her very often."

I look at him. "There's little room for bonding when no time is spent together."

Heath takes in everything that I said.

Before he can ask about my other parent I turn the question on him. "What are your parents like? You never talk about them."

Heath leans his head back against the tree. His jaw ticks with tension and his body goes rigid beside me. "What's there to talk about? They were never there for us."

"You have no memories with them?"

In the past two months, he hasn't mentioned his parents much. All I know is it's a sore topic for him.

I know they don't live with him. Perhaps they live in the city. But that doesn't explain why they don't ever visit him. All those times I've been to his house I haven't seen them once. There aren't any pictures around the mansion. It's like they don't exist.

"None I can recall." His voice is bitter.

Silence extends between us and tension turns the air thick.

Heath takes out a cigarette and lights it up. Taking a long drag, he puffs it out in a smoke cloud away from my face.

Biological facts loop my mind in warnings. The chemicals in cigarettes ruin the human body, especially the lungs. Those gruesome images of the side effects flash across my eyes. I can't stomach the thought of the same happening to him.

"You shouldn't do it. It's so dangerous for your health."

Heath exhales the smoke.

I watch him continue doing it and before I know he's halfway done with it.

The smell is thick around us.

"Why do you smoke?" I ask to understand him better.

He looks visibly relaxed and at peace. Not his usual, grumpy angry self that only knows how to glare and scowl. "It calms me."

"I feel the same about books."

He chuckles. "Then we both have addictions."

I smile. "Mine isn't dangerous to my health."

He turns his head. "Any addiction is always dangerous."

My eyes drop to slightly pink lips. The desire to kiss them overwhelms me.

I know how they feel.

I know how they move.

I know how they taste.

"You're giving me that look again," he rasps.

"What look?"

"The look that says you want to fucking kiss me."

I lick my lips. "Maybe I do." Then I rush out, "If you want, that is."

Heath stares at me for a few more seconds, before stubbing out the cigarette against the dirt and throwing it away from us. He cups my jaw and pulls my face closer.

His breath fans on my lips. "I've been wanting to kiss you since the last time I kissed you."

"That was days ago," I breathe out.

His hold tightens. "Exactly. It's been a fucking torture for me."

"You can kiss me now."

"I plan to." His firm lips are on mine and he's kissing me. The bitter taste of the cigarette is hard on his lips, and I decide I hate it. I hate cigarettes. But I enjoy the way he kisses me.

There's a gentleness to his movements but a dominance to his strokes as he devours me.

I still have no idea how to kiss, but he takes the lead and isn't bothered by my lack of experience. He pulls me even closer and goes deep.

My hand reaches forward, and I grip his T-shirt. It's warm from the heat of his skin.

We break away with our breaths filling the space between us. I pant heavily, while he looks like he can go on for hours.

"Cigarettes taste really bad." I grimace.

He chuckles.

"I won't kiss you if you smoke."

The way his gaze drops to my mouth and his fingers caress my jaw. I can see the wheels turning in his head. Bending down he pecks my lips. "I won't fucking smoke then."

"Really?" I ask in disbelief.

He kisses me. "Yes."

"I thought you liked smoking."

He kisses me again. "I like you more."

Before I can say a word, he cups my neck and fuses our lips in a tight lock. My hands shoot up to his arms and I hold onto him tightly as he deepens the kiss. I feel it in my bones, knowing I'll be feeling it all night long.

He guides me gently and slowly, getting me used to the feel of his mouth. He hasn't used tongue, which is good because I don't know how I'll deal with it.

I've read about it, and it doesn't sound fun to me.

Our lips unlock with a little noise.

"Are you okay? Is this fucking okay?" he asks in a husky voice.

I smile at him. "I'm more than fine. It was perfect."

"Tell me if you ever don't like something I do or want to stop."

I nod then ask, "Will you… ever use tongue?"

He frowns. "Do you not want it?" He pauses. "If not, tell me. I'll remember it."

"No!" I startle and he frowns harder.

Okay, I'm not making the situation better.

"I haven't done it before. I mean I've never kissed someone before you, which is pretty clear, but I just meant, it scares me a little bit."

"Then we won't fucking do it." He decides. "I don't want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. It's not fucking worth it."

My heart swells. "What about you? Do you want it?"

His thumb rubs my lower lip. "Do I want it? That means a lot of things for me, Rose."

"Like what?"

Inching closer to my mouth he whispers, "I think you already know since you read those spicy books." He presses a kiss to the side of my mouth. "You're not as innocent as I thought."

Well, he isn't wrong.

His breaths come out heavier as they lay over my skin. "Do I want to use tongue? Yes. But it doesn't matter what I want. What matters to me is what you want. And if it's off the table then it's off the fucking table."

"We can try it once."

"If you want."

"I want to see how it feels."

"Then we'll do it once."

Heath swings his arm around my neck and brings my body to his chest. His chin rests over my head, and I snuggle against his warm, hard chest that makes a great pillow.

We sit in silence until he whispers, "I fucking like you."

I grin. "I like you too."

The breeze of wind greets us on the way, and I shiver.

Heath holds me tight, then quietly he says, "Not more than I do."