22

22

KADE

FLASHBACK 4

After I passed my driving test two days ago, Jason took me out, and I drunkenly asked Stacey if she was still coming to my room to watch a movie. She said yes.

I’m a wreck, a bag of fucking nerves as I tidy my room for the hundredth time. Mum had brought up a pile of clean clothes earlier and asked why I was hoovering my curtains at eleven at night.

Fair to say she took the vacuum from me and told me to go to sleep.

I’m overthinking tonight. I’ve even wiped down my TV screen.

We’ve been texting all day, and I’ve realised a few things. When she’s home, she either has no signal or doesn’t bother checking her phone. The only reason I’ve had so much of her attention today is because she’s out with her dad at some event.

I’d like to think she isn’t messaging me because she’s bored. The idea that she’s willingly not talking to me all the other times makes me feel itchy and uncomfortable.

Maybe I should shower again?

I reread our recent messages to pass time.

Freckles: Are you sure you want to see me?

Freckles: It’s okay if you don’t want to.

Me: Shut up.

Freckles: Your communication skills are shit. What does shut up mean in this context?

Me: If you don’t come to my room later, I’ll kidnap you from your bed and drag you here.

Freckles: Oh, okay. That’s slightly threatening but a little sweet.

I’m not sweet. I don’t know how to be. When I read that message earlier, I’d stared at it for a whole five minutes before going for another smoke.

With a gnawing in my gut, I wait. Smoke another cigarette, brush my teeth again and check my room once more for any mess I missed.

My phone dings, and it takes me everything not to pounce on it. Desperation isn’t attractive, and apparently – according to Jason’s girlfriend – I should wait at least ten minutes before responding.

I last barely thirty seconds before I read and reply.

Freckles: She’s asleep.

Me: Come up.

By the time a knock sounds at my door, I’ve already paced the room so much I’m surprised there isn’t smoke coming from my carpet.

I swing open the door and anxiously stand aside to let Stacey in.

She’s wearing jeans and a knitted sweater, her hair tied back. “Hi.”

“Hi,” I reply shyly, closing the door and locking it.

I don’t know what else to say, and she obviously feels the same. She looks around my room, and I follow her as she explores. It’s big, bigger than most bedrooms, and the double doors leading to my balcony intrigue her.

“I see you standing up here a lot.” She goes out into the cold, looking down at the manor grounds. “Always smoking.”

“I can’t smoke in my room,” I tell her, leaning on the stone wall beside her. “My mum would kill me.”

She smiles, her perfect teeth white and straight.

When we go back inside, I notice her shiver. I close the balcony doors and offer her more comfortable clothes to watch the movie in. Her jeans look good on her, but something about her wearing my clothes seems way better. I don’t expect her to accept my offer, or for her to take my top and shorts and go into the bathroom to change.

I lie on my bed and set up the movie, trying not to think about how my heart is racing or the thin layer of sweat forming between my brows.

“This is huge on me,” Stacey says as she opens the bathroom door. My top is nearly to her knees. “I don’t think I need the shorts.”

Oh, fuck me.

She places them on my dresser, and I gulp as she walks towards my bed.

“My dad is picking me up in the morning. I’ll go back to Luciella’s room after the movie.” She places her knee on the edge of my bed. “She really can’t find out I’m here. Did you tell anyone?”

“Nope,” I lie. Jason and my dad are fully aware. “What’s the big deal if she finds out anyway?”

“Are you kidding?” she replies, and my eyes follow her as she crawls up beside me to settle against the headboard. “I’d need to escape the country if she knew I was here.”

“Seems dramatic.”

“Is this movie actually good?” she asks, changing the subject. She crosses her arms at her chest, and I must admit, seeing her body clad in my black top makes me want to never start this fucking film.

“The best. If you don’t like it, then I’m afraid this little thing between us isn’t going to work.”

She snorts. “No pressure, asshole.”

I just said we were a thing, and she hasn’t corrected me. That’s a positive, right?

Her bare legs are right next to mine, and the way she’s sitting, my top is riding up her thighs. Against my better judgement, which tells me I should look away and start the movie, I say, “If you plan on mauling me again, I recommend not doing it while we watch this.”

Stacey slaps my leg. “Shut up or I’ll leave.”

Nope. She isn’t leaving. Not until we reach the credits, and I’ve kissed her at least ten times. I should get the first one in while anxiety isn’t clawing at my chest and overthinking.

My nerves don’t get the better of me as I lean forward, my knuckles to her chin to tip her head back, and capture her lips with mine. A caress of our mouths – so soft and so fucking addictive when she hums. Stacey’s palm instantly presses to my cheek as she kisses me back.

I could kiss her forever.

I don’t know why it’s taken me so long. I should have done this years ago. Maybe if I did, I would have had her for longer. She’d be my girlfriend by now, and everyone would know she was mine and I was hers.

We part our lips, tilting our heads to deepen the kiss. I tangle my fingers in her hair and pull her to me. Close enough. My free hand embarrassingly clutches at my bed frame.

I want to keep kissing her. I want to keep tracing her tongue with my own, to hear her heavy breaths and the feel of her teeth taking my bottom lip between them. I want to touch her skin and climb on top of her. I want to do everything I’ve imagined.

But I don’t.

I pull back, sinking my teeth into my bottom lip and tasting her fruity lip balm. Her chest is rising and falling; so is mine. My forehead is against hers, and instead of fully moving away from her, I kiss her again.

It’s deep and feral. Stacey matches each stroke of my tongue as she positions my hand on her waist, snatching my shoulders and dragging me on top of her. I like that she’s taking control, because I really don’t have a clue what I’m doing.

She tastes like sweet intoxication as she tugs at my hair. I’m not sure how long we stay like this, but my lips are raw, my dick is harder than a rock and my top has ridden so far up Stacey’s body, I can see her underwear and the underside of her bra.

The image will haunt me forever. In a good way. I think.

I break the kiss, rising on my knees and dragging my hooded gaze down her body. Each curve. Each inked design. I want to touch her everywhere.

“You aren’t real, Freckles.” I splay my hand on her stomach and slide it up. “So fucking beautiful. You were made for me.”

“As much as I don’t want to stroke your ego, you’re not too bad yourself,” she replies with a giggle, and the way she says stroke has my dick jerking.

There’s no hiding how aroused I am. I’m not small, and my shorts do nothing to conceal the tenting of the fabric. She keeps glancing down at it.

“We’re going slow,” she says. “Right?”

We.

I nod and remove my hand. “Right. But if you want something,” I say, eyes trailing back down the length of her body, “tell me.”

She puts my hand on her ribs. “I want you to kiss me again.”

Oh thank fucking God. If she’d asked me to eat her out or to fuck her, I would’ve disintegrated into a pile of dust.

I lower onto her and crush my mouth to hers, devouring her lips. She sucks on my tongue, and I groan into her mouth as her ankle hooks behind my leg.

“I trust you,” she whispers to me, snatching my jaw, so my gaze is pulled back to meet hers. Her hair surrounds the pillow; green eyes, full lips. “I want you to trust me too.”

She takes the hand on her ribs and slowly slides it under her bra – thin black lace with stitched detail in rose that matches her panties. I grit my teeth and control each breath through my nostrils at the softness of her skin there.

“I trust you,” she says again.

My hand freezes, my lungs seizing. The fuck am I doing? I can’t sit here and fondle her. I can’t do any of this without messing up. I’ll do it wrong.

She notices my hesitation. “You won’t hurt me.”

“I could.”

She holds my cheek delicately, her voice low. “No you couldn’t, and you won’t.”

“You want me to do this?” I ask as I cup her breast, needing confirmation. She was the one who put my hands on her, but right now I need to hear her say that three-lettered word.

“Yes,” she breathes. “I want you to. But I don’t want you to do anything you aren’t comfortable with. We can stop – or slow down. Just tell me.”

Without having to think again, I slip my other hand under her bra and palm her other breast. My mind hasn’t caught up with my body yet, so as I shove her bra to her chin to get a full view, I caress her. Her tits are handfuls, full and perky, and I want to know what they’d feel like in my mouth. How much pleasure would she get from me kissing them?

Her nipples tighten to peaks as I swipe one with my thumb, and she lets out a quiet moan.

“Fuck,” I blurt.

Stacey sucks her bottom lip into her mouth and bites it, her breathing heavier. “They aren’t big or anything special.”

“Be quiet.”

She grins, but it falls, her mouth open as I roll her nipple between my thumb and forefinger. I lean down to kiss her again, swallowing her little whimpers as I pinch and roll, caressing her breasts while I devour her.

Finally, I release her nipples, shift onto my back and pull her on top of me.

I tug at my top. “Take this off,” I order, nearly exploding in my boxers as she whips it from her body and tosses it behind her. “Fucking perfect.”

She breathes deeply as I reach up and palm her tits again. My dick is straining in my shorts, and the fact she’s sitting an inch from it isn’t helpful. I’ve never looked at someone and wanted to fuck them. Yeah, I’ve imagined myself putting Stacey in every position possible, but I’ve never wanted to act on those scenarios.

Not that she isn’t fuckable; I’m just not that type of guy.

But with Stacey in only her underwear, straddling me in my bed, her pupils dilated and a flush to her skin, I want to sink my cock into her deep enough that I’ll never get it back out.

We’re kissing again, and I gain some confidence in letting my hands explore her nearly naked body. From her bare ass to gripping her back, to rolling her nipples and pinching as she whimpers my name.

She moans into my mouth when I pinch harder, my lips travelling down her throat so I can suck on her pulse, which hammers against my tongue. I want to keep going, to take her nipple between my teeth, but I go back to her mouth instead.

She whimpers as I pull her hair, flipping us again so I’m between her legs.

“We’re never going to watch this fucking movie.”

“What was it called again?” she jokes, smiling as I nip at her jaw and move hair from her face.

I drop to her side, lacing one hand with hers while the other twirls a strand of black hair around my finger. “You said you’d be a good girl.”

When I texted her drunk the other night, she said I had to take her for a McDonald’s every week now that I had a licence, and I said only if she was a good girl.

Her response?

I’m always a good girl, Kade.

I nearly died.

She fake gasps. “Am I being a bad girl?”

Inwardly, I groan as I look down at her body, clad now only in her panties. “Very.”

“Then you better put the movie on.” Stacey bites my knuckles playfully before – sadly – putting my top back on. “Or I’ll go watch it with Luciella instead.”

“Lie. She’d never willingly watch it.”

Stacey cuddles into my side, and I wrap my arm around her shoulders. The movie starts, and we both focus our attention on it, quiet unless she’s asking me questions about it. She smiles a lot. Her eyes go wide a lot. She tightens her fingers around mine a lot.

It feels nice.

I feel her sink into my embrace as the opera singer starts. I don’t watch the TV screen; I’m staring at her. Her eyes are fixed on the movie; she’s hanging on to each word, each lyric that belts from the redhead’s lips.

“Why is this sad?” she asks with a trembling chin. “His wife can see the way he’s reacting. I want to hug her.”

“I know.”

“But the song is so heartbreakingly beautiful.”

“I know.”

We watch the rest of the movie, and by the time the credits come up, we’re both yawning, legs tangled together, her wild hair in my face.

“I loved that,” she says with another yawn. “We need to watch it again.”

“Whenever you want.”

I’m seconds from falling asleep. I’ve never shared a bed with anyone. Even when I was a kid and Luciella got scared of the dark, I slept on her floor until she calmed.

The thought of sleeping next to someone has never occurred to me. I never wanted to. Never even imagined it. Yet, with Stacey buried into my side, her knee hiked over me, I would happily close my eyes and fall asleep. I hold her thigh, my nose in her hair, and I don’t bother asking if she’s staying.

Jason is right – I do like her. Is that weird, considering I’ve only kissed her a handful of times? Is there a timeline for feelings and all that emotional bullshit?

She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s kind of stuck with me. I can’t say that aloud without her running for the hills, but the fact that I’ve never once looked at another girl with interest or thought of them as beautiful until I saw her speaks volumes.

But I have no idea what to do with her.

Stacey moves beside me, resting her head on my chest; she can probably hear how fast and hard my heart is pounding. She’s patient with me. She’ll give me time to adjust to all of this. Even the way she places her palm on my chest next to her head is gentle.

The scent of her shampoo and the sound of her deep breaths are the last things I remember before I drift off. I fall into the first peaceful sleep I’ve had in years as we both cuddle into each other.

When I wake in the morning, the top I gave her is neatly folded on my dresser – and she’s gone.

I reach for my phone and notice I have a text from her. A picture she sent an hour ago. I’m passed out, spooning her with my face buried in her hair. She’s sleepily grinning and giving the middle finger, with a message beneath the image that says, You snore so loud, asshole.