23. Kieran #2
“No, it’s not that, you didn’t,” he reassures me, and I exhale a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, still relieved he’s not ending this.
“It’s just… No one’s ever really asked me about him.
Everyone assumes it must be so great to be his kid.
They have no idea. And my mom doesn’t care that he treats me like he does.
All she cares about is Molly and her image. ”
“That sounds really lonely and hard. I hate that you’ve had to go through that, Jace,” I add, and he scrunches his brows together.
“Well, it’s not like I can change it. I just meant that I’m not used to talking about it, but I appreciate you asking and not fighting back about how great he is.”
“Of course,” I reply easily.
“Okay. Um… see you tomorrow.”
“Have a good game.”
And I try really, really hard to tell myself it doesn’t mean anything that Jace opened up to talk to me about personal things he’s never shared with anyone else before. I’ll just continue to ignore the way my stomach flutters when I think about it.
Doesn’t mean a thing.
End of May
I’m running late today and hope Jace has stuck around to wait for me since I got stuck talking to my boss about my summer schedule even though I still have a few weeks until graduation.
My stomach twists at the thought of Jace not being there, but as soon as I get into the line of sight of our tree, I let out a deep breath as I see him sitting there with his headphones in.
He seems so at ease, not paying attention to anything specific, but when I make my way closer, he looks up at me and smiles softly. I drop down next to him, leaning against the tree.
“Whatcha listening to?” I ask.
“ ‘Writing on The Walls’ by Underoath,” he says. “Do you know them?” He laughs and shakes his head. “Even if you don’t, you’ll probably like them since you dress like… that, now,” he says as he waves a hand in my direction.
I smirk, looking down at my band tee, black jeans, and combat boots.
My style has geared more toward blacks, whites, and grays since I started embracing the edgier makeup and realized there was no “right way” to be queer.
I don’t need to be in bright colors or sequins all the time, though I’m not afraid of color.
“Let me listen,” I say as he hands me the left headphone from the cord plugged into his iPod, keeping the right one in his ear, and he scoots even closer.
I know the cord isn’t that long, but we’re shoulder to shoulder as he hits play on the song, and it’s hard to focus on anything other than how close we are, how intimate this moment feels, despite it being one of the most innocent we’ve shared.
I’ve definitely heard this before, and I do like it, but I didn’t realize Jace would.
I don’t know why, maybe I associated his popularity with only liking top 100 radio hits.
“Do you always listen to this kind of music?” I ask, staring straight ahead.
“Yeah.”
“I didn’t peg you for being an emo music enthusiast. You do know most of those guys wear eyeliner, right?”
“Not really. I don’t sit around watching music videos,” he mutters. Then, quieter, he adds, “Besides, my dad would freak out if I was watching a bunch of boys dancing on my screen.”
I want to pry so badly, but after last time, I refrain. “What’s your favorite song?” I ask instead.
“Hmm, probably ‘Numb’ by Linkin Park,” he says sheepishly. “I guess it’s helped me feel less alone.”
I briefly run through the lyrics, and how that song is about the pressure to mold yourself into what someone else wants and the loneliness of never being accepted as you are. Jace might not have told me much about his dad, but him saying that just revealed a lot. More than he probably intended.
He shifts to look at me, almost like he’s surprised he said that out loud, like maybe he’s realizing he confessed something bigger than just his taste in music.
“That’s a good song.” I whisper unintentionally. “When Liv and I stopped talking and Danny was away at camp, I listened to ‘Boulevard of Broken Dreams’ by Green Day a lot.” I give him another piece of me in return.
He’s still watching me, and I hold his gaze, catching him glancing down at my lips, and I swallow.
Is he going to kiss me?
The moment feels heavy and charged, intimate in a way we’ve never experienced.
Instead of leaning forward though, I feel his hand shift as he lays his fingers on top of mine.
We’re not holding hands exactly, but it’s definitely intentional.
The heat of his palm on the back of my hand as his pinky brushes my thumb makes me feel connected to him in an entirely new, nerve-racking way.
I can’t look away, can’t even breathe, even as Silverstein screams through the earbuds between us.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
“I don’t know,” he whispers back.
I don’t know what to do either, but I’m oddly turned on by the subtle touches. He tears his gaze from my lips and rakes his eyes down my body, until they land on my lap.
“You’re hard,” he mutters.
“You’re staring,” I shoot back even though he’s right.
His mouth curves into the faintest, most dangerous smile I’ve ever seen. “So, are you gonna do something about it?”
I nod. The intimate tension snaps, and we’re defaulting to our normal. I should be relieved. But, instead, I’m oddly disappointed that that kiss probably won’t ever happen.
“Let’s try something different this time,” I prompt, trying to ignore how let down I feel about not kissing him. I tug the earbud free and roll onto my side so I’m eye-level with his dick, my face close to his bulge.
“Oh, you wanna sixty-nine?” He laughs, nervous and cocky all at once. “Let’s do it. Let’s see who can make the other come first.”
“You’re on.”
Before I can overthink it, we’re both moving—fumbling and laughing as we both try to undress the other in the grass until we get each other’s jeans shoved down just enough. The moment his cock is inches from my mouth, I suck him down my throat.
The first taste of him is salty, familiar now, and I moan around his cock when the vibration of his groan runs straight through me.
“Fuck,” I mumble, pulling off for a second before taking him deeper, just to hear him break like that again.
It’s messy as spit drips down my cheek, and his fingers clutch at my thighs hard enough to bruise before moving to grab my ass and squeeze.
Fuck, that feels good. I pull back to suck the head of his cock, tonguing the slit just to hear him gasp.
He retaliates by swallowing me down to the base, and my whole body jerks.
He pulls off me long enough to pant, “Gonna lose, K—fuck—you’re already shaking.”
“Shut up,” I hiss, but my voice cracks because he’s right. My hips buck into his mouth anyway, chasing the heat.
He laughs around me—actually laughs—and the vibrations send me right to the edge. I try to focus, hollowing my cheeks around his cock and pumping the base with my hand, desperate to drag him down with me.
We’re both sucking each other’s cocks like this competition is life-altering. Gagging and gasping and fighting not to give in first until I feel him twitch on my tongue at the same time my vision goes white.
We come together, choking on each other’s moans, muffling the sound with spit and desperation until we collapse, coughing and laughing against each other’s thighs.
“Guess we both lose that one,” Jace says through laughs.
“I guess,” I say, smiling as we continue to lie there.
Did we really lose though? Tonight was different. Things between us feel different.
Tonight felt like… like what I’d imagine being in a relationship might feel like. Hanging out with someone I enjoy spending time with, sharing parts of ourselves we might not with other people. Joking around, laughing, smiling, hooking up because we can, because we want to.
As sad as it might be to admit, tonight might have been one of the best nights of my life.
I’ve been trying to ignore exactly how things have changed between us for a while now.
I’ve always been attracted to Jace. I obviously hated the way he treated me last year.
But his confidence is hot, the way he seems to command the attention of everyone in a room when he enters it, both with his physical presence—he’s larger than most people our age—and with his charisma.
The easy charm he’s never bothered to turn on for me has had countless girls tripping over themselves to talk to him.
He’s also objectively the most attractive student at our school with his cut jawline, his broad shoulders, his muscles, and his perfect, round butt from all the squatting he does as a catcher.
Yes, I know what position he is, even if I’ve still never been to a game.
His warm brown eyes, the curly brown hair. He’s gorgeous.
But now, when I think about how hot he is, I’m not immediately following that thought with “but I hate him so much” like I used to.
Because I don’t. I can’t.
I hate the things he did to me in the past.
But I’ve gotten to know Jace over the last couple of months in a way I never imagined I would. And the more that I do get to know him, the more I’m worried I might even like him.
But the school year is almost over, and I have no idea what that means for us. If there will still even be an us. I think I desperately want there to be.
I’m too afraid to ruin tonight by asking though. So, for now, I can only hope we have more moments like this ahead.