Kael held an orange in his hand. It was a big orange, but small in his hand, with the little SUNKIST sticker still on it. He was massaging it gently with his thumb, but hadn’t broken into the peel yet.
“I want to know more about you. That’s all I’m asking, okay?” With a face like his, I doubted he ever had to ask that question. Who wouldn’t want to say yes without even thinking? I was the only idiot who would confuse things. How could I have such a strong attraction to this guy and still be so unsure of how I felt. Of how he felt.
I took him in. I couldn’t help it, but I ran my eyes up and down his strong body. He was wearing a gray Army T-shirt and black sweats. It was unfair how hot he looked in everything he wore.
“How do you plan on doing that?” I asked.
I seemed to be responding the way he had hoped. He was pleased with that, as if that was his plan all along. I liked that he had one. The idea of a plan made me feel important. He made me feel important.
“By asking you questions about yourself. How else?” He was being so playful, so unlike the composed man I’d come to know over the last few days.
“Okay.” I was skeptical. “Go ahead.”
He gestured to the empty spot next to him. “At least sit down with me. What kind of a date is this?”
“It’s not a date. We’re just hanging out, getting to know each other. That’s it.”
That was meant more for myself than for him, but Kael didn’t need to know that. I sat down at the top of the porch and let my legs dangle over the lower steps.
“You keep saying we don’t know each other, so I’m going to get to know you if it’s the last thing I do,” he assured me. He was so confident. In his words, his smile. Even the way he leaned back on the concrete steps conveyed his confidence. I felt that familiar pull move from the bottom of my tummy down toward my legs.
“Okay, okay. Enough small talk, ask something.” I needed to be distracted from the way Kael’s mouth made me ache as he licked his lips while peeling the skin off of the orange.
“I only brought one, but we can share,” he said. I loved this playful version of him.
“Some date,” I joked and he shook his head.
“Nope, you said it wasn’t a date.”
“Touché. Now questions or I’m ending this not-date prematurely,” I threatened. We both knew it was an empty threat. “Anyway, you’re the one who doesn’t tell me anything about himself.”
“You go first then,” he offered. I thought about what I wanted to know about him. There was just so much.
Music. That’s what popped into my head first. I’d ask about music! “What’s your favorite band that no one really knows?”
He turned to me, his eyes wide, happy.
“So many, I love unknown bands. It’s most of what I listen to. What about Muna. I just found them. They’re great.”
“Muna isn’t unknown, they went on tour with Harry Styles.” I told him how I loved their music and how Elodie and I tried to get tickets to the concert but they sold out so quickly, so I’d need to pick up a few more clients before I could afford resell tickets.
“Harry Styles, huh? If you could go to any concert, ever, who would it be?” he asked me.
I nodded a solid yes to Harry Styles, and thought about what concert I would choose if I could see anyone. Alanis Morissette had always been my go-to answer, but with Kael, I chose what I actually thought of first. It felt freeing, to be honest in this way. I liked how he brought me out of myself. I didn’t give him the answer I thought he wanted. I gave him the truth.
“Shawn Mendes,” I told him.
“Shawn Mendes?” he repeated. I could practically hear the joke coming, so I tried to move the conversation along.
“And you?” I asked.
“Me, well, I would probably say either Amy Winehouse, before she …” He paused. It was lovely, a mark of respect somehow. I smiled, urging him to continue. “Or Kings of Leon on their first tour. Back when they were virtually unknown.”
“I’m going to make a list of unknown bands before our next … hangout session or whatever we’re calling this,” I said.
“Our next not-a-date,” he said. I think we were both relieved to hear the word “next.”
“Right,” I said, feeling both relieved and excited.
“So,” Kael said. “Here’s another question for you. If you could describe Austin in one word, what would it be?”
“Hmm.” I tapped my nose, thinking of just one word to describe my twin. “Well-intended?” I finally answered. But I was unsure. It wasn’t the word I was going for. Not exactly.
“That’s two words,” he said.
“Actually, it’s hyphenated, so that counts as one word.” He liked that. I could tell. “He has good intentions,” I continued. “He just makes bad choices to go along with them.”
“I get that,” he said. And I really felt that he did.
“My turn,” I said. “What about you? What about your little sister?” His expression hardened for a moment, almost as if I imagined it. Then just as quickly, it went back to normal.
He thought for a moment, considering not answering. I saw it on his face, but he came up with, “Powerhouse.”
“Powerhouse?” I repeated. What a lovely way to be viewed by someone, especially by someone in your own family.
He nodded. “Yeah, she’s brilliant. And doesn’t let anything stop her. Her high school, it’s one of those fancy private schools where they only teach the thing the students are good at. Science is her thing. She tested high enough to get into the school back when she was nine, but my mom can’t drive and wouldn’t let her ride the city bus alone until she turned fourteen. Now she takes the bus alone, across town, every morning, and every afternoon.”
“Wow,” was all I could manage. Of course Kael’s sister was a science prodigy. It was impressive and humorous to compare this teenaged prodigy riding a bus across town to get to her gifted school to my brother who got himself in trouble even when he stayed home.
“Next?” it was Kael’s turn to change the subject.
I asked a basic question. “What do you like to do in your spare time?”
“Get massages,” he smiled at me, “and work on my house. I bought a duplex while I was deployed. Remember when you took me to the parking lot to get my keys? They were supposed to be there. Anyway, I bought this run down duplex and I’m fixing up the empty side now, and slowly working on my side so I can rent it out and then move into another one and repeat the cycle. Maybe spread out toward Atlanta when I can.”
“I bought my house for the same reason,” I told him. He took a bite of the peeled orange. I could smell the sweetness from where I sat. My mouth watered.
“Well, the remodeling part. I couldn’t stand living with my dad and his wife anymore, so I found this little house online and have been slowly, I mean, s l o w l y fixing it up.” I dragged out the word for emphasis.
He laughed, inching closer to me. “I noticed.”
“Don’t
you think I’m doing a good job?” I asked. “Didn’t you see the shower tiles?” I bet he cringed at the number of unfinished projects scattered around the house.
He was close to me, so close that I could smell the fruit on his breath. I didn’t know if it was me, or if it was Kael, but one of us was inching closer to the other. By the time Kael and I had asked each other random questions like how long we could hold our breath and what noise could he listen to all day, every day without being annoyed, we were inches away from each other.
It was a magnetic pull. An irresistible attraction.
“I could listen to you talk all day,” he said, surprising me. “It’s become one of my favorite things to do.”
His eyes were on my mouth.
My heart was beating out of my chest.
“I wish I could hear you talk all day,” I confessed to him. We felt so close there, huddled together on my porch, not noticing the cars or any of the people passing us.
“One day you’ll regret saying that.” Kael’s breath covered my cheeks, my wet, needy lips.
His lips were so close to mine. Was he going to kiss me, here, now, out of the blue, with the dew of orange on his lips?
My mouth begged for his to inch closer, to touch mine. I had never wanted something more than I wanted him to kiss me, there on my porch.
Was he going to kiss me?
His lips soon answered my question. He leaned over and put his soft mouth on mine. Everything went quiet then. The traffic. The sound of the birds. Even the noisy station inside my head. I had no words. No thoughts. Just him.
He was timid at first, gentle … until I pushed my tongue between his lips and tasted him. From that taste, my addiction flared up and I knew I would never get enough of him. I would need every hit and I would take every chance to get it.
That first kiss turned into countless more as we toed the line between causal and committed. I knew the danger. If my own history had taught me nothing, at least I could heed the lesson of nearly every issue of Cosmopolitan and every romantic comedy from the past two decades. This was never, ever going to work.
But I had to risk it.