11. Kassie
KASSIE
Oliver left, the trail of his spicy, warm cologne staying behind. I remained seated, trying to catch my breath.
What the hell just happened? I wondered.
I had been certain he was going to kiss me. It shocked me how much I’d wanted him to. After everything we’d been through, after the heartache and him walking away, I couldn’t believe I still wanted him to kiss me. But I did.
It had been a great evening up until that point. Lots of laughter, some sharing conversation, and many fun memories. And then suddenly, it had gotten serious. Deep. Intense.
Shaking my head to clear it, I stood and cleared the dishes, carrying them into the kitchen. I put away the leftovers and loaded the dishwasher, recalling I hadn’t given Oliver the pies I’d made him again. Before I could rethink it, I headed upstairs and knocked on his door.
He opened it with a frown. “Kassie,” he began. “Is everything all right?”
I thrust the little pies toward him. “I meant to give you these, and I forgot.”
He took the pies with a wide smile. “These are great, thank you. I love blueberry. It’s my favorite.”
“I know,” I replied. “I remembered.”
Oliver bent down to brush a kiss to my cheek, just as I turned my head, and his lips met mine.
For a moment, neither one of us moved. Then his hand slid to the middle of my back, pulling me closer, his mouth pressing more firmly.
I knew I should pull away, step back and break this connection. But I didn’t.
Instead, I glided my hand up his neck, burying my fingers into his thick, dark hair and whimpering as he kissed me. I swam in a sea of memories I swore I had forgotten. All the times we’d kissed in the past. How much I loved kissing him.
But unlike the kisses of old, where we fumbled and learned, this kiss was different.
It was hot. Desperate. Filled with need.
There was no fumbling, no banging of teeth or inexperienced tongue.
This was hot and wet, knowing, and explosive.
It was like a match being dropped onto dry wood—a raging bonfire waiting to happen.
He tugged me closer, beginning to pull me over the threshold of his apartment.
I knew once he had me inside and the door shut, I was lost.
With a gasp, I pulled back, stepping away and staring at Oliver. His hair was messy from my hands, his lips wet from mine. He was breathing hard, his eyes filled with desire. Intent.
“I just wanted to give you some pie,” I mumbled, sounding crazy. I could barely think clearly.
He stepped forward, his hand beckoning. “Come inside, and we’ll talk.”
I shook my head. “I can’t. I’m so sorry, but I can’t.”
I turned and ran down the steps, praying he didn’t follow. I wouldn’t have the strength to resist him.
I never would.
Oliver
I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. I couldn’t get Kassie off my mind.
I relived that kiss over and over in my head.
The way it felt to hold her again. To feel her molded against my body.
The way her mouth felt underneath mine. Tasted under my tongue.
It broke open the dam of feelings that had been slowly leaking, a little every time I saw her, an image or thought breaking through, making itself alive and familiar in my head once again.
I met Kassie the day we moved to Richton.
She lived next door, the only thing separating us a small white fence with half the pickets missing.
My mother and father moved us here when I was six.
Kassie lived with her mom, who was widowed.
My mother sent me out to the backyard, trying to keep me out of the way while she and my father unpacked boxes.
I spied a swing set and, without a thought, slipped through the hole in the fence and began to swing.
Not long after I did, a little girl in overalls appeared in front of me, her hands on her hips.
She had red-gold ringlets and pale-colored eyes. “Hey, that’s my swing.”
I slowed down, dragging my feet in the grass, and stood from the swing. I towered over the little girl, but she didn’t back down.
“Who are you?” she demanded, glaring up at me.
“I’m Oliver.” I pointed to the little house next door. “We just moved in. Who are you?”
“I’m Kassie. I live here.” She studied me for a moment then smiled. “Do you want to be my friend? You can use my swing. And my mom made cookies today.”
I loved cookies. “Sure.”
That was the start of us as friends. Kassie was my best buddy.
My playmate and my rock. Our moms became friends.
I was at her house as much as she was at mine.
As my parents’ marriage collapsed, probably more.
Her house was quieter. No one yelled or slammed doors.
Even after my father walked out on us, I preferred it at Kassie’s.
She was there.
At school, I was her protector. She was always small, and my mom had told me once that I needed to look after her. I always did what my mother said. I stood up to her bullies, fought many a battle, and ended up in the principal’s office more than once.
Kassie supported me, no matter what. She joined the drama club just because I loved it. She painted sets, ran lines, cheered me on from the auditorium at every school performance. We were each other’s soft place. Friends forever.
Until I turned fifteen.
She wept the day she saw me kiss Barb Jones. I didn’t understand why until I saw her walking away with Jim Dixon a few days later. I was furious. Hurt. Confused.
Later that night, I found her on her old swing set in the backyard, pushing back and forth on her toes, staring at the ground.
I stood in front of her. “So you like Jim now?”
She looked up, her eyes red. “Why do you care?”
“Because he’s an idiot. I don’t like him.”
“Whatever,” she sighed. “Go back to kissing Barb.”
“I don’t wanna kiss Barb.”
“That’s not what it looked like to me.”
“She kissed me first, and I kissed her back to try it.”
She waved me off. “Go away, Oliver.”
“No.”
“Then I’ll leave.”
She brushed past me, and I wrapped my hand around her bicep. “No, don’t go. Please.”
She wiped a tear rolling down her cheek. “What do you want?” she choked out.
I stared at her with new eyes. When had she become so pretty? Had those freckles always been there? Standing this close to her, I felt her breasts, hidden under a loose shirt, pressed against my arm. I kept staring at her mouth. I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry.
“You’re my best friend.”
She shook her head. “Leave me alone.”
“Dammit, Kassie.”
“Don’t swear!” she admonished me.
“I want to be more than your best friend.”
She stilled. “What?”
“I didn’t like kissing Barb. She—it—felt wrong. She wasn’t you. Ever since she kissed me, all I can think about is kissing you. Because that feels right.”
“You want to kiss me?”
“Yes.”
“Then why don’t you?”
So, I did. And that became the start of us as a couple. We became inseparable. I hated leaving her at the end of the day, and sometimes we both snuck out to the grouping of trees behind the house and talked.
Kissed.
Explored.
Became each other’s firsts in everything.
Life was great. We had plans on a life together after we finished school. We both wanted out of Richton and were eager for a future in the big city, and at the age of sixteen, we were ready for the next step in our journey.
Then my mom died.
There was no warning, no sickness. She was alive when I left for school, and by noon, she had died of an aneurysm no one knew about.
I sat up, running a hand over my face, those memories still too painful to think about.
I shut down for so long, lost without my mom.
Kassie’s mom, Brenda, was amazing and let me stay with them, not even objecting when I slept beside Kassie at night, needing her close.
The door remained open, but it was Kassie’s quiet support, her warmth, and her whispered words of love that I needed.
She became more than just my rock—she was my world.
My father was nowhere to be found. I hadn’t seen or heard from him since the day he’d walked out.
I would never have made it through that terrible time without Brenda and Kassie.
Brenda let me stay, becoming a legal guardian to me until I was of age.
For a long time, I felt as if I were living under a cloud, only partially aware of the world around me.
It was during that time that I went into Toronto for a chance to be an extra on a show being shot there.
And I met Ed.
Once again, my memories took over.
He said all the right things, did all the right things.
He met with Brenda and made her believe the same as I did—that he had my best interests at heart.
She agreed to let me go, knowing if she said no, I would find a way to do so without her permission.
I’d be eighteen in less than a year, and I was as stubborn as they came.
She saw, I think, some of the spark back in my eyes—a glimmer of the boy I’d been before my mom died. She knew I had to try this.
I promised Kassie I would be back. That our lives and ideas would go on as we had planned.
She wept as I packed. “You’ll meet beautiful girls and forget about me.”
“Never.”
“You’ll become famous and wish you’d never made me those promises.”
I knelt in front of her. “I’ll be back for you, Kassie. I love you. But I need to do this. This could be the greatest opportunity of my life. For both of us. I can’t pass it up—it’s my dream. You understand that, right?”
“I thought I was your dream.”
I cupped her face. “You are. We are. But this dream will enable me to give us the life we fantasized about.”
She leaned her head on my chest and wept. “I love you, and I’ll miss you so much.”
“You can finish school. I’ll see if there is anything in LA for me. You can go to school there too for your degree if I decide to stay.”
“I guess,” she sniffled.
“We can adjust. It’s not forever, it’s just for now. As long as you’re with me on this, we can do this. I know we can.”
“I’m frightened.”
“Don’t be. Nothing is going to happen. I’m yours. You know that. I’ve always been yours.”
But she was right.
Everything changed, and for the first time in as long as I could recall, I was on my own, without my rock. Adrift more than ever and alone.
And I still was.