The Kiss: An Anthology About Love and Other Close Encounters(21)

“Suckers,” he says, laughing. “I knew they couldn’t do it.”

I smile. “Come here,” I say to him.

He rolls Katie onto her back, then stands up and walks over to the couch I’m sitting on. He lowers himself down and rests his head in my lap. He turns toward my stomach and gives it the perfect kiss, then places his hand on it.

“This is one lucky kid, Eddie.”

“Why?”

“Because,” he says. “He’s gonna have the best big sister in the world and the best mom in the world.”

I smile. “And the best Gabin in the world.”





*


Colleen Hoover is the author of five New York Times bestselling novels. Her first series was published in 2012 and includes Slammed, Point of Retreat, and This Girl. Her second series, published in 2013, includes the #1 NYT's bestseller Hopeless and the companion novel, Losing Hope. She has released a free novella, Finding Cinderella, as a thank you to her readers for their continued support. The novella is a companion to her Hopeless series, but can be read as a standalone.

Colleen lives in East Texas with her husband, their three boys, their dog, Pacey, and their zombie, Steve. Colleen loves Diet Pepsi more than all of the things, and is a ninja in her spare time.

You can follow Colleen on Instagram if you want to watch her pointless, random videos, or on Twitter, but she rarely tweets anything worth following. You can also find her on her blog or on her very active Facebook page where she loves to give away free stuff when her husband isn't looking.

http://colleenhoover.com





*





Death Kiss


George Wier


The Loser had the kind of face that made tougher guys want to use it as a punching bag, and his face bore the evidence that a series of such men had been unable to resist the temptation to do so in the past. His acne scars didn't help matters, either.

He leaned with his backside against the chalk table and held an arm extended parallel with the plank floor of the place to grasp the cue stick held at perpendicular such that he could have been doing an audition for the part of Pharoah in some local theatre troupe, except for the fact ‘loser’ was practically written on his face. One corner of his mouth turned up to give him a know-it-all, sardonic, self-satisfied grin.

Erica saw him standing there like that, surveying the lay of the billiard balls before him, and was instantly drawn to him. That was Erica all over again ― always going for the losers.

Erica didn’t learn his name until after she’d completed her first treatment and after the FBI had finished grilling her there in the hospital. But that was later, after she’d made a complete ass of herself by throwing herself at the guy.

His name was Lonnie Wayne Smith, although she didn’t know his name at that point. Still, she recognized him instantly for the kind of guy who would make her father want to stomp him into the dirt, and after that she couldn’t help herself.

Her friends, Lori, Matt and Kyle, thought she’d gone off the deep end. She was supposed to be there with Kyle, Lori’s selection of a match for Erica, but Erica and Kyle had taken an instant disdain for one another in the couples department, and so on the pretext of needing to use the restroom, Erica had left the bar up front and gone wandering through the place, back towards the pool tables. She had thought that maybe there was a rear exit back there somewhere which let out onto Fifth Street. This night, Sixth Street was beyond boring and there had to be something, somewhere for her.

And then there was The Loser. He was hers.

She saw that he was drinking a beer and went to the bar and got him another one. When she approached him and put it in his hand, his eyes met hers and he smiled. She then slipped under The Loser's arm holding the pool cue and pulled it arm down around her waist. The Loser seemed to like it, as she knew he would. Erica wasn’t sure just when she started calling him The Loser in her mind, but that was also part of the whole enchilada.

Erica smelled something then, something either on The Loser or about him, underneath the sharp tang of beer and cigarettes. She didn’t know what it was, but it called to her mind... something. She couldn’t recollect quite what, but it was there and images of raw force and power pervaded her vision and made the tableau of the pool game and the bar seem like a fake picture, a bright patina, possibly, painted over some older, deeper and darker yet unknown masterwork. The Loser was a force of nature, this she knew instinctively.

Lori entered the room first, followed by Matt, then Kyle. The three of them stood looking at her. The Loser had his forearm pressed hard against one of her breasts.

“You’re up, Lonnie,” one of pool players said. He was just another loser, but much less of a loser than Lonnie, who was The Loser.

The arm came from around her and The Loser did what he did best: he acted the part of the infinitely bored as he ran the last four balls on the table, walking each ball into a pocket as though doing so was as inevitable as the summer sun.

Lori came over to her.

“Just what the hell are you doing? Kyle likes you!”

“No he doesn’t,” Erica said. “Besides, I think I found someone.”

“Yeah. I know,” Lori said. “I don’t like the looks of that guy.” Lori’s eyes turned to watch him strut around the pool table to grab a cube of chalk and flick-flick-flick it against the tip of his cue stick, as if aligning the molecules of blue chalk there just right. Her upper lip twitched spasmodically. No, Lori didn’t like The Loser one tiny bit.