SIXTEEN NEVER BEEN KISSED
SIXTEEN
NEVER BEEN KISSED
L ying on my bed, I try to stifle a yawn.
I’m stuffed from the footlong sub I ate on the walk home.
Tariq is sprawled out on my bedroom floor.
Since we left the Guildhall, he’s been on a continuous rant about the Guild.
He only paused when we got to the till at Subway.
He did also ask how my finger was when I stuffed his tissue into my pocket.
According to Tariq, taking blood from a new Keeper and dripping it onto a rock is completely normal.
Wish he’d given me the heads-up on that at least.
Now that we’re back at my place, I was kind of hoping to steer the conversation in a different direction. But Tariq seems to be stuck on the same topic, still venting his frustrations. Thankfully, my mum is working a night shift, so he can rant away.
‘I just can’t wrap my head around them sometimes,’ Tariq continues, his voice animated with agitation. ‘They preach about protecting this city, and then they turn around and brush off Draven’s offer. They may as well just hand you over to him.’
I don’t respond. Instead, I take a closer look at my new pendant. The silver feels smooth to my touch.
‘Sorry,’ Tariq says. ‘I know I’ve been rambling. It’s just that they get under my skin sometimes.’
‘I get it. I didn’t exactly vibe with them. That whole Katie stuff got to me. They covered up a murder scene.’
‘They do what they can to protect their secrets.’
Secrets. Now that’s a cue for a change of topic if there ever was one.
‘Who is Heather Willet?’ I ask, rolling onto my side to face Tariq.
‘How do… who told you?’
‘So, it’s true?’
Tariq sighs. ‘Yes, Heather Willet is another Keeper. The Spiritus, or the Fourth Keeper. Nathaniel asked me not to say anything to anyone.’
‘Why would he do that?’
‘Don’t get me wrong, Nathaniel’s a stand-up guy, but he’s got an unbreakable loyalty to the Guild. Sometimes, that means he conveniently forgets to mention certain things. I only found out because Heather’s file was open on his laptop one day.’
‘So, what’s her story?’
Tariq shifts, sitting up on the floor. His blanket slips down, revealing his chest. I try to look away, but I’m distracted by the chain around his neck catching the light.
‘Heather was from Nathaniel’s generation of Keepers.
They were close, kind of like how Opel and I are, I guess.
I don’t have all the details about what went down back then.
What I do know is that Heather’s powers became too much for her to handle.
According to her file, she started experiencing episodes of erratic behaviour, and it took a toll on her mentally.
Eventually, the Guild decided she wasn’t fit for Keeper duties.
With no family to look out for her, they placed her in care. ’
‘That’s really sad. So, she’s just living in some facility now?’
‘Sarumbourne Wellbeing Centre.’
I’ve heard of that place. It used to be an old mental asylum.
Lily has a thing for it – we’d take a longer route during dog walks just so she could admire it.
It’s a Victorian manor house, got a recent makeover and rebranded as the Sarumbourne Wellbeing Centre.
Much better than the creepy old name, Old Manor Mental Hospital.
‘It’s close enough to the Guild to keep tabs on her occasionally,’ Tariq adds. ‘Plus, one of the Guild’s members actually owns that building.’
‘Do the staff there understand how to look after her? I mean, her powers – what exactly are they?’
‘From what Nathaniel has told me, the Spiritus Keeper has clairvoyant abilities, allowing them to see the past, present, and future. They can also contact the dead.’
‘Like in the cute Locke I should probably go first.
‘I’m thinking…’
‘Here’s one for you,’ he says, quickly. ‘I’m a Munchrider.’
I burst out laughing. That is not what I expected him to say, at all.
‘What?’ Tariq laughs too.
‘You’re telling me you’re one of those guys in bright orange vests who bike around town delivering lukewarm food?’
‘Usually from eleven to three most weekdays. And I’ll have you know I average a 4.8 Munchrider customer rating.’
‘Wow.’
Tariq raises an eyebrow. ‘Wow?’
‘I mean, I just didn’t imagine you as the Munchrider type.’
‘Why not?’
‘I guess I didn’t think you’d have time for a job.’
‘I make time. I need the money and it pays well. It’s flexible too, which for demon killing is handy. Plus all the biking keeps me active.’
Well, that explains his strong-looking legs. Gutting though that being a Keeper won’t cut it as an excuse to skip college or avoid getting a job. Not even a special ‘sorry, got to save the world’ pass I could give to my teachers or future boss?
‘Your turn,’ Tariq says.
‘You might not like this one.’
‘Give it to me.’
‘I’ve never read a book,’ I say, cringing.
‘What?’ Tariq’s reaction is so intense that I worry my mum will hear him from the hospital.
‘Alright, calm down.’
‘You’ve never read a single book in your whole life?’
Tariq is on the edge of having a mini meltdown. I guess it’s weird for someone who’s a book lover. But the truth is, I’m just not much of a reader. I’m a… watcher.
‘I’ve read textbooks for school. And when I was a kid my grandparents would read to me.’
‘But you’ve never read a book for you? For fun?’
‘Nope.’
There’s a moment of silence. Tariq must be processing. His reaction was more intense than I had expected. I bite my lip to stop myself from giggling.
‘I’ll make a deal with you,’ he finally says. ‘If you agree to read a book of my choice, I’ll watch your dinosaur movie.’
I raise an eyebrow. ‘What book?’
‘Well, that would spoil the surprise.’
‘Okay, deal.’
Tariq makes a thinking sound, then props himself up against my bedside table.
‘Well, if we’re confessing “nevers”, I’ve never been to a beach.’
I drop my hands to my sides. ‘You’ve never been to a beach?’ How is that even possible? Going to the beach is practically a universal childhood experience, isn’t it? And we’re not that far from England’s south coast, just about an hour’s drive.
‘I’ve never seen the ocean in person,’ he continues. ‘Never heard the waves crashing, the seagulls squawking…’
‘You’ve never built sandcastles? Or walked along a pier with fish and chips?’
‘I’ve just never had the opportunity. Then I found out I was a Keeper, and I haven’t left Sarumbourne since.’
‘You mean you haven’t left the city since becoming a Keeper? Not once?’ My voice is reaching a slightly higher pitch than usual.
‘Opel, Thomas, and I had to track down a shapeshifter in Amesbury one time; does that count?’
Amesbury is practically a suburb of Sarumbourne. ‘No, you’re not having that one.’ I laugh.
‘Then, yes, I haven’t left here in four years.’
Four years without leaving Sarumbourne? That’s not healthy.
I mean, I literally went out of town just a couple of weeks ago when my mum wanted my opinion on a dress for her work Christmas party.
And that earned me a free lunch, so it wasn’t too bad.
Four years stuck within the city limits?
That’s a whole different level of dedication to being a Keeper.
‘Now you. Top that!’ Tariq says.
‘Okay. I’m a biscuit fiend.’
‘Wait, are you just telling me you like biscuits?’
I laugh. ‘No, I’m telling you I’m obsessed with them. Like, literally. Mum can’t buy them because I will devour them in one sitting. When I was eight, I stole a pack of biscuits from my school’s treat cupboard because I was craving them so much.’
‘So, you really like biscuits then. Any kind in particular?’
I shrug. ‘Nah, not fussy. Although I do love a good Bourbon.’
‘Noted,’ he says, winking.
Why is he being so cute? My mind veers toward a fantasy where his third confession involves him admitting he’s into me.
‘My third one is deep,’ he says, quickly.
Reality crashes in. I push away my thoughts and refocus on the moment.
‘I apologise now,’ he continues, his tone shifting slightly. ‘I was an orphan.’
I turn on my side to face him. ‘Tariq…’ I begin.
‘It’s fine. I don’t need any pity. It was a different part of my life. I’ve moved on.’
He avoids my eyes and begins fiddling with his stone.
‘Hey,’ I say, trying to catch his eye. ‘No pity. Promise.’ I gesture a cross over my chest, where my heart lies. I want him to know that he can trust me.
He offers a small smile, and I can finally feel a deeper connection forming.
‘Can I ask you something?’ I say.
‘Sure.’
‘The photo you have next to your bed at the Seven Angels. Is that…’
‘My parents? Yeah. They died when I was nine.’
‘Tariq, I—’
He raises a finger. ‘You crossed your heart.’
I smile. He doesn’t want my pity, and I want to respect that. I nod. There are memories behind that photo, but I don’t want to push. He’s told me something about his past. And for now, that’s enough.
I crawl to the end of my bed and rummage around underneath it.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Give me a sec,’ I say, reaching into a box.
After fondling a notepad, Grumpy – my old teddy bear – and a bunch of screwed-up one-dollar bills, I finally find what I’m looking for.
I place it in Tariq’s hand.
‘A sea shell?’ he says.
‘Yeah, it was my nan’s. I want you to have it, at least until you can get to the beach one day.’
Tariq looks down at it, then back at me, his eyes a little hazier than before.
‘Liam, I can’t accept this—’
‘Sure you can. Anyway, I have another one. They’re a pair. Here, do this.’
I take the shell from him, give it a shake just like my nan used to do, and then hold it to his ear.
His eyes cross. ‘What are you—’
‘Just listen,’ I say.
Tariq waits. Then, his eyes widen. ‘The ocean!’
I nod. ‘You can hear the waves crashing, right?’
Tariq smiles. He moves to take the shell but cups my hand instead. Instinctively, I pull away, letting the shell fall into his palm.
‘This is really great, Liam, thank you.’
I smile at him.
‘Third and final one for you,’ he says.
I hold his gaze for a moment. His bottom lip quivers. Heat rises to my cheeks. I roll onto my back and focus on the ceiling. ‘I… er…’ My heart is racing. I know what I want to say, but I fear his reaction. But then, if I can’t be honest with him, what’s the point?
‘I’ve never kissed anyone.’ The words leave me before I can stop them.
I close my eyes tightly. Why did I just say that? I could’ve said anything else. I’ve probably ruined everything. There’s a rustling sound, and I’m almost afraid to look. Is he leaving?
I open my eyes. Tariq is right there, leaning over my bedside, lips puckered, and making a ridiculous humming sound. I grab my pillow and throw it in his face. He falls backward, erupting into laughter.
‘Yes, it’s hilarious,’ I say, throwing my hands over my face.
‘Liam!’ he says through giggles. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘I’ve done other stuff!’ My words come out more defensive than I intended.
Tariq’s expression shifts slightly, and he seems to be waiting for me to elaborate. But I am absolutely not going to reveal anything else. Why did I suggest this game?
‘Oh really? Other stuff?’ he says, making his eyebrows jump up and down playfully.
Heat rushes to my cheeks again, and I’m suddenly hyper-aware of his proximity. ‘Yeah…’ I mumble, feeling my heart race. ‘I bet you kiss people all the time!’
‘What makes you think that?’
‘Well, you kissed Opel…’
‘I told you we’re just friends—’
‘—and you’re older. And mysterious. And handsome. And—’
‘Liam.’ Tariq puts a finger on my mouth, muffling my next word.
He adjusts himself so he’s level with me. He stares at me, his eyes moving from side to side, his breath on my skin.
‘You gave me something, now let me give you something,’ he says.
He leans in but stops before he reaches me. I swallow as he studies me again.
‘Is this okay?’
I nod.
His fingers gently take my chin, pulling me toward him.
Before I can fully comprehend what’s happening, his lips are on mine, and my world shifts.
His scent, a mix of spicy aftershave and something uniquely him, envelops me.
The taste of his lips is sweet, his touch warm and electrifying.
His hand slides up my side as he carefully moves me backward on the bed.
Tariq’s body presses against mine, and a rush of sensations floods me.
My skin tingles as heat radiates into every limb.
Every sound floods my ears – the neighbour’s TV, a train pulling into the station, a dog barking somewhere.
Every touch Tariq makes sends my senses into overdrive.
It’s both exhilarating and terrifying, like I’m floating on the edge of something unknown.
The world around me blurs, and for a moment, nothing else matters but this connection.
Just as I’m losing myself, he pulls away. The room comes rushing back. I open my eyes to see Tariq’s smiling down at me.
‘There you go,’ he says, softly.
I try to steady my breathing. My heart is pounding. Blood has rushed to a certain part of my body without me realising earlier.
‘Goodnight, Liam,’ Tariq says, climbing off me and returning to the floor.
‘Good… night…’ I say, between breaths.
I switch off the lamp and get under the duvet.
That was a game worth playing.