Absolutely (Larson) Page 11

  Kiel’s hands slip to my waist. He pulls our bodies together as we continue kissing. Neither of us deepen the kiss. The sensations are more than enough for now. As it is, I've risen to my tiptoes to allow more of our bodies to touch in all the right places.

  He is the one who finally breaks the kiss, but he doesn’t retreat. We’re so close, breathing the same air. Breathing quickly. Kiel’s watching for signs that he read the signals wrong, I guess.

  I've let my hands dangle at my side until I realize what he’s watching for. I'm responding in some ways, but not others. To show him I'm all in, I get back on my tiptoes, raise my hands to his face, and pull him down to my waiting lips. Kiel barely gets out a chuckle before I'm attacking his mouth with a passionate vengeance. There won’t be any doubt about my feelings by the end of this one…

  Despite all the rumors flying, I've never gone further than kissing with anyone. Kissing, however, I've done quite a bit. Practice makes perfect, evidently. I think he's definitely been practicing too, because I can feel him returning the kiss with renewed fervor.

  I release his face and take a step back. The smile on my face is so huge, it almost hurts. Kiel looks a bit stunned…but happy.

  “Lunch,” he reminds both of us. He holds out his hand for mine. I take it as we head to the Jeep. He helps me in and lingers there again, watching me strap in. “I'm considering this our first date,” Kiel states firmly, “even if the circumstances are kinda sketchy.”

  “I can live with that.”

  ***

  Kiel

  I cannot believe I'm heading to Ashlyn’s house to pick her up. After a jacked-up morning, this has to go better. I’d already decided that kissing Ashlyn was inevitable. But when I talked with her earlier, it felt awkward. Hopefully, it was the simply that her mom was beside her.

  Hopefully, because so much about this relationship was already awkward. How we met; how we communicate; how I want my hands all over her but hold everything back from her; how our time together keeps getting interrupted.

  I intend to spend some time without distractions.

  At her house, her mom literally drops and leaves. She obviously likes me. She wouldn’t if she knew how I thought about her daughter, especially in her cheer uniform…

  Ashlyn stands where she was left, waiting for me to make the first move. I can’t blame her. I haven't given her more than a few words to let her know how aware I am of her.

  Into the silence, Ashlyn tells me she's torn between thanking me and hitting me. I risk getting close to her. I'm not seriously afraid of being attacked by someone of her diminutive stature. It’s honestly not how I want what I am calling our first date to start. I take her hands as an excuse to touch her and stare meaningfully at her crazy freckles.

  Once we have a place for lunch decided on, I release a hand only to get hit. She hits like a girl.

  In response, I bring her into my arms, pressing her body to mine. All the good parts of her are firm. It’s time to take the initiative. I go in for the kiss, knowing I might be rejected.

  I kiss her. I kiss Ashlyn and she kisses back.

  Pure passion courses through me. The miracle of her glossed lips moving on mine has me grabbing her by the waist and smashing her to me. Ashlyn raises to her toes to fit snugly against me.

  I stop to watch her. Her hands stay at her sides, not on me at all. She was kissing me back, but maybe I did something wrong. Maybe she doesn’t want this like I do. The moment felt so right, I couldn’t pull away.

  Before I can doubt myself and the whole relationship, she suddenly reaches up and seizes my face. Our lips crash together in pure passion.

  The song “Love It All” plays in my head as our lips move. It’s cheesy, but I don’t give a damn.

  Angling my body so I'm even closer, there's nothing between us but our clothes. I can sense the experience in her kisses. She tugs on my bottom lip with her teeth. I tease her lips with my tongue. This time, Ashlyn stops us as it starts to spiral out of control.

  ***

  In the Jeep, I hold her hand, checking out the back of it. She's all-over pale. And freckly, like her face. I smile at the observation and wonder about the rest of her. “I was noticing something,” I say.

  She sees me studying her hand and makes an assumption, “Yeah,” she says ruefully, “they’re everywhere.” Meaning her freckles.

  “Everywhere, Ashlyn?” I tease. She blushes. I guess I have that answer. “But, no. I was noticing that you and your mom are fair skinned while you dad and sister are darker. Are you Spanish, like from Spain?”

  Laughter, the unflattering kind, bursts from her lips. She lets go of my hand to playfully smack my arm. “Good one!”

  “No, I'm serious. What are you?”

  “No kidding? Spain, huh? Nope, totally white, Caucasian to the bone, cracker, non-Hispanic descent.”

  “At least that explains why you suck in Spanish class,” I joke. But really, she totally sucks at it.

  “I'm not that bad!” she defends herself and smacks me again. She may not hit hard, but she may hit me enough times to make it hurt eventually.

  “Thursday, you asked Mrs. Green if you could take a dog for a walk instead of a restroom break! You may be right…‘suck’ may not be the best word choice,” I pause pretending to think. “Hopeless. Yeah, hopeless fits.”

  She laughs, “You may be right. Only because it sounds better than ‘suck’.”

  “Ok, you and your mom are white as can be. She has the Spanish language down, though. I remember Mom talking to her on the phone. The two of them spoke like she was family. Fast.”

  “My mom learned Spanish quickly. It’s one of her many gifts. She learned when she opened her bakery, knew it would get and keep her clients. That’s how she met my dad.” She smiles with pride. I’d like to ask what she means, but we’re here at the restaurant.

  I motion for her to wait as I go around to the passenger side to help her down. It’s a date after all. Can’t have her jumping out of my Jeep on a date. Not to mention jumping doesn’t seem feasible in those tight jeans.

  Who am I kidding? I'm using excuses to cover up the fact that it’s another opportunity to get my hands on her waist again. Which I do. I hold her close and slide her down my body, pressing a kiss to her forehead. We go in hand in hand.

  ***

  Inside, the head waitress greets Ashlyn personally. “Ashlyn, honey! It’s a school day, right? Everything OK? Your daddy just got back.”

  “Yeah, Jean. Everything’s Ok. We need food and we’ll be fine. Makes it all better, right?” Ashlyn responds. Her dad works here? Well, crap. There goes making out at the table.

  “You want the back table, honey?” Jean asks, appraising me. I knew I liked Jean.

  “That would be awesome!” she says, smiling brightly.

  Jean seats us, leaving us with menus and a wink.

  “You left me hanging out there,” I remind her.

  “What? What did I say?” she asks, confused.

  “About how your parents met,” I remind her.

  “Oh, that” she laughs. “He liked her buns!” That starts her giggling. Luckily, the table is nearly secluded from the rest of the patrons.

  “Her buns?” I laugh with her.

  “Ashlyn. Kiel.” I peer over my shoulder to see her dad. “Glad you guys find Mom’s buns amusing. Now, what are my guys cooking for you?

  “Dad, I'm gonna have my usual.”

  I raise an eyebrow at her and she explains with a shrug, “Whatever he decides he wants to feed me. It’s all good.”

  She grins with pride at her dad. My own mom would approve. Ashlyn loved and respected her parents.

  “I'll have the same, since it is all good.”

  He laughs, patting Ashlyn on the shoulder before walking off to put in our order.

  “Little sneak,” I accuse. “Why didn’t you say this was his place? Nothing’s bad here. I should know, it’s a favorite of my family.”

  She smiles agai
n. When I say that she hasn’t stopped smiling, I'm not exaggerating. She's smiling even while she's talking.

  “I was about to, in the car. But we were already here…” she trails off. Our drinks are brought by Jean. Ashlyn takes a sip of her Coke and begins speaking again. “So, where did you live before? Why did you move at the very end of the school year?”

  “We moved from Dallas,” I hedge. Not wanting to say anymore, I clam up.

  “Because…?” she prompts, not letting me off the hook. A small smile is still playing on her lips.

  “I needed a change.” I say, avoiding elaborating. Ashlyn narrows her eyes slightly, sensing there's a secret. I should’ve said my parents needed a change. I gave her too much. Her smile slips. Guilt for being the cause racks me.

  She takes a deep breath, “Ok. Moving on. What have you heard about me?” She's not pulling her punches. I pause. “Spill it, Kiel. Tell me what you’ve heard.”

  As I'm about to start, reluctantly, Jean arrives with cheeseburgers and sweet potato fries. We get to the pre-eating prep work. While I'm peeling off the vegetables, I think about what to start with. She’s got her cheeseburger cut in half and ketchup slathered all over her fries. I catch her eyeing the vegetables lying on the side of my plate, like a rabid bunny. I offer them to her and repeat what I heard Reyna say in the classroom about how drunk Ashlyn really was that night, how many she’d had. She knows I’ve seen the pictures.

  “I killed a cow that night,” she states, looking up at me through her lashes.

  “Ok,” I say, nodding once in acknowledgement. Then she ruins the seriousness of the statement by giggling.

  “I think I can tell you this,” she pauses. “There's really not much to it. The pictures are way more scandalous. You ready for this?” She pops a fry into her mouth.”

  “I'm ready,” I say.

  “Ok. Well, Reyna has always gone to those parties. I never had. I was always her alibi. ‘She's in the bathroom, Mrs. Castro.’ ‘Let me go get her, Mr. Castro.’ ‘Oops, did I hang up on you?’ I was good at it.” She tells me about getting drunk, the disappearing best friend, and the anonymous tip that led Officer Castro straight to the crash site.

  “Two beers? Ashlyn, are you sure?” I ask, skeptical.

  “Honestly!” she says, offended. I guess no one’s believed her yet. I almost don’t. “My dad had my blood-alcohol levels tested at the hospital. I'm intolerant!” (and indignant) “I was tragically wasted after the first one. No one freaking believes me.” She throws down the fry she was about to eat. Her arms are crossed.

  Her one and only party and she took the fall.

  “Wow. I'm glad you told me. No champagne at our wedding,” I say, trying to inject some levity into the downward spiral of a conversation. It works. She uncrosses her arms, smiles a small smile, and picks up her cheeseburger.

  “Your turn,” she points a fry at me. I hadn’t realized we’d made a deal…

  Chapter 11

  Ashlyn

  Great first date. No, I mean that. Even though we’re under the watchful eye of my dad and his employees, it’s been relatively fantastic. Albeit we went backwards. We made it to first base without actually going on the date first. No matter.

  I should say it was going fantastic. We were trying to learn more about each other. Hold up. No, it’s been all about me. Kiel has a way of refocusing on me or flat out ignoring my questions. It’s frustrating.

  I decide to take the high road and talk about how I spent my summer vacation—killing cows. In the hopes that he’ll open up, tell me more about his past. Why he headed out west to Larson-by-God, Texas, population: old.

  When I finish, I give him his opening. His turn.

  He has a chance to tell me something, anything at this point. Nada, zip, zilch, is forthcoming. We eat. That’s all.

  Really? That’s it! I can’t take it anymore. There’s gotta be something he can tell me about himself. Maybe a safer topic?

  “Tell me more about this band you’re getting together. Do you write your own stuff?” I say, trying to smile.

  He glances up at me, then back down at his plate. Frustration wells up inside me. He might as well be wearing his ear buds! But I am not asking twice.

  Kiel finally sits back and shrugs, one-upping the nod that set me off the other day. This boy has like five seconds to speak up or I’m out.

  Mentally counting, I check to make sure all my stuff is in my purse. Five. I'm standing and walking out. (I'm not cutting out on the check. Either it’s comped by my dad or jerkface is paying.)

  “Ashlyn?” I hear him say as I walk out.

  ***

  Mom’s bakery is one block over. Shortest block ever. I barge in and go straight to the back where Mom is frosting cupcakes. She looks up in shock as my hand shoots out in front of her, reaching for the pastry bag. Before she can ask what’s wrong, I've frosted (impeccably) a dozen cupcakes.

  “Oooh!” I say through clenched teeth. “He frustrates the crap out of me! What else do you need done?”

  Mom gently pries my fingers off the bag and leads me to a stool.

  “Honey,” she begins in a calming voice she's been using on me since birth, “you can’t bake and frost your problems away.”

  “Oh? Watch me!”

  The front door chimes and she pats my hands saying, “Customer. Give me a minute.”

  As I wait, I bang the back if my head against the wall a few times to clear it of Kiel’s kisses. We need a do-over. No, an erase and maybe-not do-over.

  “Can I interrupt?” Kiel, yes Kiel says from the doorway. He appears stiff and nervous, hands in pockets.

  “No,” I mumble in his general direction, not even to his face.

  “Did you need a ride home at least?” he offers, worried.

  “Nope.” He still wasn’t leaving. “What?” I ask him, annoyed.

  “Look. About in there,” he jerks his thumb in the general direction of the restaurant. “It’s not that I don’t want to talk to you about things. It’s just that some things I can’t talk about by court order and some things are not very easy to talk about. Some…Some things…only come out sounding like stupid dreams.” He rubs the back of his neck, embarrassed at having laid that much out there.

  I blink, conscious of the fact that my eyes have gone wide, staring him down. My hands are on my knees; I switch my glare to them instead and tap my fingers a few times. What to do about Kiel? I see his feet poised to leave.

  “This relationship feels one-sided sometimes. If this qualifies anywhere as a relationship…” I say to my knees and fingers. “I do all the talking, I'm extremely needy, and I don’t like this ride so much right now.” I cut my eyes to him.

  He glances down, then back up at me, hesitant to say whatever he's thinking. Kiel almost whispers, “Do you want out? Of this—whatever the hell this is?” He motions his hand between us. It takes me a second, but the vulnerability I hear in his voice gives me the answers I need. I shake my head ever so slightly.

  Kiel sees it. “Ok,” he lets out a held-in breath. “Good. That’s good.” His body posture goes from rigid to relaxed, making me smile. Kiel’s emotions are on his sleeve and I revel in it.

  “So,” I start.

  “So,” he repeats, “Can we get back to our date, or do you need to go back home?”

  “I guess we can go back to it,” I say and blush. “I mean the date,” I clarify. I happen to be thinking about our kisses. If I'm going to do all the talking, I'll at least be finding other uses for his mouth. Wow, did that thought come from me? Yes, yes it did.

  I get up and walk over to him. He’s grinning, but not in a won-the-battle sort of way. More like he knows exactly where my mind went. It went way further, though.

  I sort of collapse into his arms. I lean in and mumble, “Sorry for walking out on you. Did my dad make you pay?”

  Chuckling, he leads me out with his hand on the small of my back. “No, but he's the one who sent me in this direction. Told me to expe
ct you to be baking your issues away.” Kiel picks up one of my hands that I now see are streaked with frosting. “Interesting coping mechanism.”

  “It’s sort of a new development,” I admit. It’s been since I've met him. The boy drives me to bake! “Give me a minute.” I rush to the back to wash my hands.

  When I get back to him—and enduring a look from my mom—he asks, “Where to now?

  “How about the mall?” It’s a few towns over in the shopping Mecca of Abilene. Well, it’s our Mecca. Closer than Dallas, anyway.

  “Sounds like fun…” he says, like maybe it won’t be. Ok, it’s not all that exciting. We call it THE mall for a reason. It’s the only one.

  “Tell you what,” I laugh, “Your choice for any other stops afterward.”

  ***

  Kiel

  After I blew our first date, she storms out of the restaurant. I’d clammed up on her line of questioning. It’s not really that I feel like I can’t talk to her about these things. Some of it I really cannot talk to anyone about.

  To be honest, until we’d kissed, I wasn’t sure how far I was taking this thing between us. I still can’t be sure where this will lead. The crack I made about champagne at our wedding? That was too deep for this stage of our relationship. Were we even in a “stage” yet?

  Do I think she’s good for me? Do I think she’s sexy as hell? Is she beautiful? Have my issues with the rumors been resolved? All the answers to those questions are yes. Except the last one. The party night was her downfall, socially. Was that the only basis for the talk? ¿… ¿

  I’ve been sitting there for a few minutes after she's left when Mr. Ramos walks out. I don’t know whether to go find her or go home. I start to pull out my wallet, but Mr. Ramos chuckles and nods at her empty chair.

  “It’s been an emotional day,” he tells me. “My wife’s bakery is down the street. Ashlyn will be there. Don’t take it too personally. Veronica baked so much pan dulce after our first fight, I'm pretty sure I still carry that weight around.”

  I thank him, leave, and head for the bakery on foot giving both of us a few extra minutes. The bell overhead chimes when I walk in. Mrs. Ramos comes out with a smile…that disappears when she see me.