Never Never(47)

“Me?” I get a sick feeling in my stomach. I know what’s coming, but I don’t know what’s coming.

“He told me he was giving you a job as a waitress…”

Okay, that’s not so bad. We need the money.

“Because you were Brian’s girl. So I punched him, I guess.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah. That kid—Eller—told me we needed to leave before Brian’s dad called the cops.”

“The cops?” I echo.

“I guess Brian’s dad and my dad have worked together on some stuff. He agreed not to press charges last week because of it, but I’m not supposed to go back there. Also, Landon has been calling around, looking for me. Apparently my dad is wondering why I left practice. Everyone’s pretty pissed about that.”

“Oops,” I say.

“Yeah, oops.” He says it like he doesn’t care.

We go back the way we came, both of us quiet. We pass a few street artists I didn’t notice before. Two of them look like a couple. The man is playing the bagpipes while the woman draws pictures in colored chalk on the sidewalk. We step over the drawings, both of our heads down, examining. Silas takes out his camera and snaps a few pictures while I watch her turn a few lines into a couple kissing.

A couple kissing. That reminds me.

“We need to kiss,” I say to him.

He almost drops his phone. His eyes are big when he looks at me.

“To see if something happens…like in the fairy tales we talked about.”

“Oh,” he says. “Yeah, sure. Okay. Where? Now?”

I roll my eyes and walk away from him, toward a fountain near a church. Silas follows behind. I want to see his face, but I don’t look. This is all business. I can’t make it into something else. It’s an experiment. That’s it.

When we reach the fountain, we both sit down on the rim of it. I don’t want to do it this way, so I stand up and face him.

“Okay,” I say, coming to stand in front of him. “Close your eyes.”

He does, but there’s a grin on his face.

“Keep them closed,” I instruct. I don’t want him to see me. I barely know what I look like; I don’t know if my face contorts under pressure.

His head is tilted up, and mine is tilted down. I put my hands on his shoulders and feel his hands lift to my waist as he pulls me closer, between his knees. His hands slide up without warning, his thumbs grazing my stomach and then making a quick swipe along the underside of my bra. My stomach clenches.

“Sorry,” he says. “I can’t see what I’m doing.”

I smirk this time and I’m glad he can’t see my reaction right now. “Put your hands back on my waist,” I command.

He puts them too low and now his palms are on my ass. He squeezes a little, and I smack his arm.

“What?” He laughs. “I can’t see!”

“Up,” I say. He slides them a little higher, but slowly. I tingle down to my toes. “Higher,” I say, again.

He takes them up a quarter of an inch. “Is this—”

Before he can finish his sentence, I lean my face down and kiss him. He’s smiling at first, still in the middle of his little game, but when he feels my lips, his smile dissolves.

His mouth is soft. I lift my hands to his face and cup it as he pulls me tighter, wrapping his arms around my backside. I’m kissing down and he’s kissing up. At first, I expect to just give him a peck. That’s all they ever show in the fairy tales—a quick peck and the curse is broken. We’d have gotten our memories back by now if this were going to work. The experiment should be over, but neither of us stops.

He kisses with soft lips and a firm tongue. It’s not sloppy or wet, it moves in and out of my mouth sensually as his lips suck softly on mine. I run my fingers up the back of his neck and into his hair, and that’s when he stands, forcing me to take a step back and change position. I do a good job of hiding my gasp.

Now I’m kissing up and he’s kissing down. Except he’s holding me to him, his arm wrapped around my waist, his free hand curled around the back of my neck. I cling to his shirt, dizzy. Soft lips, dragging…tongue between my lips…pressure on my back…something pressing between us that makes me feel a riot of heat. I push away, gasping.

I stand there looking at him, and he looking at me.

Something has happened. It’s not our memories that have awoken, but something else that makes us feel drunk.