Chapter 19
Micah Barrett
I look out the front window again. No car. I’m waiting for River to bring Cricket home and feeling quite anxious. I got the email from her attorney. The contract is good. I can sign it without worry. All I want to do is celebrate with Cricket, but she’s out with River, and I want to stab something.
River’s rental car drives up and parks out front. I race to sit on the couch and grab my phone so it doesn’t look like I’m waiting for her. It takes another fifteen minutes before she comes in. I casually look up from my phone. “You’re home?”
“Yes.” She sighs and walks into the room. I imagine she’s walking on air, since she had another amazing date with Mr. Perfect.
“Is that a happy sigh?” I ask, not looking at her.
She sinks into the chair. “No.”
Surprised, I put my phone down on the couch beside me. That’s when I notice Cricket has tears in her eyes. “Why are you crying? Did something happen on your date? Did River hurt you?” Anger surges in me. He better not have hurt her.
She shakes her head. “No, nothing like that. River was a gentleman. It’s just… me.”
I study her sitting across the room. “You? What do you mean?”
Cricket sighs again and wipes at her cheeks. “There’s something wrong with me.”
A dread creeps into me. I’m going to pound that guy into the pavement. “What did River say to you? Why do you think something’s wrong with you?”
Her cheeks flush pink. “He didn’t say anything. It’s just… I can’t do something right.”
I’m so confused. “What are you talking about?”
She looks up at the ceiling and groans. “This is embarrassing.”
“Cricket, just tell me. What’s going on?”
She covers her face with her hands. “I think I’m a terrible kisser.”
I blink at her. “What?”
“You heard me.” Her voice is muffled behind her hands. “I’m bad at kissing. I think I suck at it.”
Relief floods through me. River didn’t hurt her. But then confusion takes over. “That’s… that’s what you’re worried about?”
She drops her hands and looks at me with misery written all over her face. “Micah, I’ve kissed River twice now, and both times, it was just… a nothing burger. I felt blah. What if I’m doing it wrong? What if there’s something fundamentally broken about me?”
I can’t help it. I laugh. Not because it’s funny but because the idea of Cricket being bad at kissing is ridiculous.
“Don’t laugh at me!” she says, throwing a pillow at me.
“I’m not laughing at you,” I say, catching the pillow. “Cricket, it’s impossible that you’re kissing wrong. Maybe you don’t have chemistry with River.”
She shakes her head emphatically. “No, that’s not it. River likes our kisses. He’s handsome, sweet, successful, funny. If I can’t feel anything kissing him, then the problem is definitely me.”
“That’s not how it works—”
“I must be doing something technically wrong,” she interrupts. “Like maybe I’m too stiff, or I’m breathing wrong, or my lips are positioned incorrectly, or—”
“Cricket, stop.” I stand up from the couch and fold my arms. “You’re overthinking this. There’s nothing wrong with the way you kiss.”
She groans and shakes her head. “I’m a loser. I can’t even do something simple like kiss properly.”
I huff. It’s so ridiculous I can’t stand it anymore. “You’re not a loser, and I’ll prove it to you. Come here and kiss me.”
I didn’t know I was going to say that, and my shock makes the words hang in the air between us.
She stares at me, her eyes wide. “What?”
I blink, what I said sinking in. I could kiss Cricket if it would prove to her that she’s not broken. “Come on. We’re two adults. I can prove to you that what you’re doing is fine.”
She stands up, too, and begins pacing. “Micah… that’s not a good idea.”
“What’s the big deal? It would just be a demonstration. Completely platonic. Like… like a tutorial.”
“No.” She says it more forcefully than I feel is necessary. “Absolutely not.”
“It’s just a kiss.” I put my hands on my hips. “I could see if you’re doing something wrong.”
She rakes a hand through her hair. “I know I am. Still, I can’t kiss you.”
I frown. Why is she so adamant that she doesn’t want to kiss me? Now this feels like a challenge. “It’s not weird if we both know it doesn’t mean anything, right? It’s educational.”
“I don’t think—”
“Come on. Stop making this into a big deal.”
She huffs, finally relenting. “Fine. But this is purely instructional. Got it?”
“Yeah, but if we’re doing this, we’re doing it properly. Come here.”
She walks to me, her face showing how reluctant she is to do this. But it’s really no big deal. I’ve kissed plenty of girls. No one can do it wrong, but I might as well give her some pointers.
“Okay,” I say, trying to sound clinical and detached. “The first thing you need to understand is that the kiss isn’t the most important part. It’s everything that leads up to it.”
She nods seriously, like she’s taking notes in her head.
“It’s about anticipation,” I continue, stepping closer to her. “Building tension.”
I slowly reach out and place my hands on her waist, and I swear I feel her breath catch. “Physical contact is important. You want to feel connected before your lips even touch.”
I pull her to me, and it feels… good. When did Cricket get curves? How have I never noticed how perfectly she fits against me?
“Okay,” she whispers, and her voice sounds different. Breathless. It makes my limbs feel funny.
I slide my hands up to frame her face, my thumbs brushing across her cheekbones. Her skin is impossibly soft. “Skin contact,” I say, though my own voice sounds strained now. “Eye contact.”
She looks up at me, and something in her expression makes my heart start pounding. Her lips are slightly parted, and she’s gone completely still, like she’s afraid to move.
I gently slide her glasses off and set them on the end table. I thread my fingers through her hair. Why haven’t I noticed how silky it is before now? It’s making a lump form in my throat.
“The key,” I say, leaning closer, “is going slow. Taking your time.”
I’m close enough now that I can feel her breath on my face. Close enough to count her eyelashes. My heart is hammering against my ribs, and I can’t figure out why. This is just a silly demonstration.
I lower my head until our lips almost touch, but I don’t close the distance. “The power of anticipation makes the kiss even better,” I say as her breaths fan against my lips.
“And then, you start with just a whisper of a kiss.” I wait another second before brushing my lips softly across hers.
Time stops, and the room tilts as zings of attraction shoot through me. She sucks in a small breath, like she wasn’t quite ready for our lips to touch. It sends a wave of desire through me, which I totally wasn’t expecting.
All plans to explain as I go evaporate, and I kiss her again, this time slow and methodical. Electricity shoots through me like I’m standing in the middle of a lightning storm. My entire body comes alive in a way I’ve never experienced before.
This is Cricket. Cricket, who I’ve known forever. Cricket, who I see every day. But suddenly, she’s not just my best friend anymore. She’s become something else entirely, and it’s making me question everything I know.
Her lips are softer than I imagined, warm and perfect against mine.
The kiss starts gentle, almost hesitant, but then she responds, and something primal awakens in my chest. My hands tighten on her face of their own accord, and I feel her fingers curl into my shirt like she’s anchoring herself to me.
Fire shoots through my veins. What is happening to me?
This was supposed to be a demonstration. Impersonal. Educational. But there’s nothing impersonal about the way my pulse is racing or the way every nerve ending in my body seems to be firing at once. When Cricket’s lips part slightly, our kiss builds to a crescendo.
With other girls, kissing was nice. Pleasant. Fun. But this… this is completely different. Kissing Cricket feels like finally hearing a song I’ve been humming my whole life but never knew the words to.
My heart is beating so hard I’m sure she can feel it.
Every place our bodies are touching burns—my hands on her face, my chest where she grips my shirt, every place I feel the barely-there brush of her body against mine.
I want to pull her closer, want to deepen the kiss, want to lose myself completely in whatever this feeling is.
But then reality crashes in. I’m kissing Cricket. My best friend, who is dating River.
I break the kiss and pull back, and I’m completely disoriented. My hands are still cupping her face, and I can’t seem to make myself let go. Her eyes are wide and dazed, her breathing as unsteady as mine, and she’s looking at me with an expression I’ve never seen before.
“Oh,” she whispers, and that one word holds a world of confusion and surprise.
I stare down at her, my mind reeling. What happened? How did a simple demonstration turn into… that? And why do I suddenly feel like everything I thought I knew about myself, about Cricket, about us, is completely wrong?
My chest is tight with something I can’t name. All I know is that I want to kiss her again. I want to kiss her until we’re both breathless, until nothing else in the world matters except this feeling coursing through my veins.
But she’s dating someone else. She’s dating River, and she came to me because she wanted to figure out how to be a better kisser… for him.
The realization hits me like a physical blow. Cricket, the girl who’s been right there beside me all along, the girl for whom I just discovered I apparently have very unplatonic feelings, belongs to someone else.