Chapter 17 Carrie #3
“Thing is, all your misconceptions turn out to be bullshit. Ever notice that?” He leans in. “You were wrong about the walls. Remember? Maybe you’re wrong about this, too.”
He’s good—I’ll give him that. But I’m not cracking. The harder he pushes, the harder I plan on pushing back. We lock eyes. I can feel the energy rising off him like a current. I’ve always caved with him. Until now, that is. This time, I need to win.
“You’re gonna ace this, I can feel it!”
I pull back, and the spell is broken.
I dart around the table and lunge for the faucet, grappling for a glass. I’m parched. The moment the water hits my lips, I feel myself level out, and when I turn around, I realize he hasn’t moved. He’s just standing there, laughing softly.
“What’s the problem?” I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.
“I’d never have guessed you’d be the sort to freak out over a quick kiss.”
“Dude, why can’t you just accept that I don’t want to kiss you?” I shoot him a level look. “I get that it’s not great for your ego, but still.”
“Trust me, Carrie—my ego has pretty much been fucked since we met.”
“Guess I’m good at my job, then.”
He shrugs. “I accept my fate. After weeks of hard work, I’m about to crash and burn, and all because of one little kiss. Too bad for Cheyenne.”
“You should be on Broadway.”
“I hope you remember this moment when you’re still trying to shake me off a few months down the line. It’s almost November,” he reminds me. “That gives us—what? Eight months until the end of the year? And anyway—even when I graduate, I can still carry on my classes with you…”
“Are you blackmailing me, Wolinski? Because I can do damage, too, you know.”
“Is kissing ‘triggering’ for you?” He hams up the air quotes. “Because this is a whole lot of stress for one of the most basic things you can do…”
I hate the way he’s completely steamrolling me, the way his sentences just trail off.
“Why don’t we talk about how obsessed you are with this whole kissing thing?”
I eye the glass of milk. Now would be an amazing time to give him a practical demo.
“I am.” He nods. “I am obsessed. Because there’s always a method to your madness.” He walks around the table and stands in front of me. “It’s got me wondering. You’re not usually this uptight.”
He’s peering at me like I’m a lab experiment.
“So, it can only be one of two things. Either you’re a total noob or your breath really stinks.
” He nods to himself. “Actually, maybe this is for the best. Because either way, it doesn’t sound great for me.
See, I’ve got you on this pedestal, and I don’t want anything to bring you down. Because if it did, I wouldn’t—”
Why is he so fucking annoying?
I grab his collar and pull him into me mid-sentence, his lips smooshing against mine, a quickfire sneak attack, but at least it’s done.
“There.” I shove him away from me. “Happy?”
“Ecstatic.” His eyes widen. “I mean—shit, Carrie! What the hell even was that? It felt like an octopus latched on to my face. I feel bad for you.”
He really is so, so fucking annoying.
I know he’s teasing me, of course. But there’s some visceral need buried deep inside me that really wants to wipe that smirk off his face. I grab his collar again. I take a deep breath in.
This time, I feel my way through the moment, bringing my hand to caress the side of his neck and cup his jaw.
I feel him tense up in surprise, with the smallest hitch in his breath, and something in me can’t help but react.
I lean into him in, brushing his mouth with mine once, twice, before catching his upper lip.
A gentle pull. A question. He answers instantly, lips parting, his tongue softly meeting mine.
I think a moan escapes me. Our mouths are tentative and tender in those first few seconds, but slowly give way to something hungrier.
His breath is hot on my skin as I twist his tee in my fingers, pulling him in for more, suddenly no longer concerned with who is kissing who right now.
All I know is that I want more. That I’ve always wanted more.
I can’t remember why I ever tried to fight it in the first place.
The music drifting in from his sound system is fading to black as our mouths move against each other’s, heat and softness blurring into one, and by the time we pull back our eyes meet and some unspoken message passes between us.
“Happy?” I manage.
I’m panting.
Just when I think he’s about to step back with a nod, his hands are on my cheeks, and his mouth comes crashing back into mine.
In the space of a heartbeat, all my reasons for stopping this melt away like snow. I know I should put an end to this stupidity—that this isn’t right. But my tongue is rolling against his, and I have neither the strength nor the desire to refuse it.
Our lips grow frantic. Donovan presses into me so hard my lower back bumps into the table. The way his tongue reacts to mine is indescribable. I can’t get enough air to organize my thoughts or put words to whatever is happening between us in this kitchen.
My hands grasp the edge of the table, clinging to the only thing that feels real. His hand claims the nape of my neck and pulls me in to kiss me harder, while his other palm curves around my waist to bring our hips as close together as possible.
Suddenly, he is everywhere, everything. Every inch of my body that is pressed to him is on fire.
I tighten my grip on the table. Pain shoots up to my elbows, but I know if I let go now, if I give in to my instinct and wrap my arms around his neck, this will be the end—I’ll be swept up in the whirlwind, and everything will fall apart.
He never needed to practice his technique.
His kissing is perfect. And that’s exactly what I was afraid of.
He pushes against my pelvis so forcefully that my ass slides onto the table, and Donovan slips between my thighs. I want only one thing: for him to add to this equation the very thing I swore I wouldn’t ever do with him again. Once more can’t hurt—can it?
I rake my fingers through his hair and lock my legs tight around his waist as he grinds against me, and I buck hard in response.
It’s like my body remembers his—like it’s been waiting for this—and I’m more ready than I’ve ever been.
He buries his hands in my curls, tugging my bun a little looser, and I rest an elbow on the table as I lean back, reaching blindly for his tee, frantic to pull it up and off him.
He starts sucking on my tongue, his hand sliding beneath my top, and I—
“Honey, I’m home!”
A voice comes booming out from the living room.
I don’t know whether Donovan is swept up in the moment or if he just doesn’t give a shit that Adam’s here, but his tongue is still searching for mine. As for me, his friend’s arrival hits me like a bucket of ice water.
I turn my head to escape his mouth and kick my legs as a signal for him to back off, but he just stands there hovering over me, his eyes glazed, his breath ragged. His pupils are dilated, his cheeks flushed, like he’s just played the toughest game of his life.
In that split second, he’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Gently, I tap his chest. He blinks and falls back, moving slowly—too slowly, because Adam has just stepped into the room and I’m still sprawled out on the kitchen table. Shit!
I clench my abs and leap to my feet.
“Hey, Carrie.”
I make a beeline for the corner. “Hey!”
“Sorry for interrupting your—”
“You didn’t interrupt anything!” I fling my bag over my shoulder. “We were just practicing. It was great. Tonight, I mean. It’ll be great. You’ll be great, Donovan.” I nod eagerly.
May thunder strike now!
I tuck my hair behind my ears a good ten times, digging a bigger and bigger hole with each dumbass distraction technique I try. Why can’t I just relax, goddamn it?
My gaze drifts back to the table and the puddle of milk beneath it. Great. I must have knocked over the glass when we… Fuck!
Adam’s eyes dart back and forth between us. “Still wanna hit up the mall?”
My heart is hammering hard. Whatever I do, I can’t look Donovan’s way just yet.
The mall! How could I forget? Of course he’s going to the mall.
That was the plan. And nothing we did here changes that.
That was a practice run, that’s all. We went off script, but I was fully in control the whole time.
Well, almost the whole time. Almost fully in control, some part of the time.
I’m shaking, I realize. My entire body is trembling, and my mind is racing, so I say the first thing I can think of.
“Don’t forget, dude—no ties.”
“Yeah, I got it.” Donovan sounds so distant.
“Okay!” I say brightly. “Time for me to hit the road.”
I nod goodbye before sprinting for the exit.
By the time I slam the door shut behind me, my head is spinning. I trip down the stairs to the next floor and crouch in the stairwell, holding back a scream. Come on, Carrie. Get a hold of yourself.
I knew kissing him was a bad idea. I fucking knew it.
The first time we slept together, I didn’t even think about it.
It was just for fun—I didn’t need to kiss him for that.
I meant it when I said kissing makes sex too intimate.
But little by little, I’ve felt a growing pull to have his fucking perfect mouth on mine.
It’s also why I wanted him to move on, to find some sweet girl who’s actually right for him.
I knew exactly what might happen if I let things get complicated.
I knew I would enjoy that kiss way too much for my own good.
The only thing keeping me sane is knowing he doesn’t see me as an option. We’re just… weird friends who don’t share anything more than a slightly deranged project. He teases, I throw jabs, end of story.
Part of me genuinely hopes things with Cheyenne work out for him tonight.
That way, I can put a little distance between us.
I can put an end to all these uncomfortable feelings.
But my evil twin—the one who prefers to forget why I’m so determined to stay single for a few more years—keeps whispering thoughts that make my chest ache.
I can’t help it—I picture their date, and it twists my stomach.
Worse, I picture myself barging in and stopping them.
I refuse to feel this. I promised myself I wouldn’t, and I repeat it every time my mom crashes and burns.
There’s only one thing for it, I realize. I need to go find Lois at the Java Bar and drown out evil Carrie. The one I thought I’d buried until now.