26 Kisses (17 page)

Bob hesitates, then smiles and theatrically wipes the back of his hand over his forehead. “Whew. You two are lifesavers.” He pulls a lanyard heavy with keys out of his pocket and hands it to me. “Just lock the keys inside the bus when you’re done, and I’ll get them tomorrow morning.”

“I have to go with him—I’m his ride,” Mel says, shrugging apologetically.

We wave as they walk to shore, Bob with his shoulders back, whistling happily, on his way to a date with his wife. Even before things went totally south with my parents, I can’t imagine a time when they would have been so blatantly overjoyed to be spending time together.

After I hear Bob’s car door slam, I tell Killian, “You can get going if you want. You have a longer drive home than I do.” I cross my fingers and hope he refuses to leave.

Killian gives me a strange look, as if it’s completely out of the question for him to leave me at the Float & Boat alone, for which I’m secretly grateful. “You know the insurance doesn’t let Mr. Flaherty have part-time employees working out here alone. Too risky—you might fall into the river and drown.”

I push my foot deeper into the river, feeling for the colder water that lies a few inches beneath the sun-warmed surface. “I promise to wear my floaties.”

“No way.” Killian takes his hat off and lies down on his back on the dock, dropping the hat over his face to block the sun. “This is a two-person operation, counselor. Team Us.”

I hope the canoers are just taking their time coming down the river, maybe stopping at one of the tiny islands to explore. I’m not sure what we’ll do if something is actually wrong.

Killian’s only able to suffer through a few minutes of silence before he gets the conversation going again. I’ve never met anyone so interested in life that they can’t bear to stop talking about it. “So,” he says.

I look down at his broad body spread across the dock, his fingers drumming nervously on the weathered boards, and my stomach tightens. “So.”

“You didn’t text me back.”

I wince. “No, I didn’t. I’m sorry.”

He taps his fingers on the dock, waiting for more. I kick my feet, watching water droplets fly into the air, my mouth clamped shut. I should have texted him back. I know exactly what I would have said:
i liked yesterday, too.
But how can I go from texting a guy one minute to kissing someone else the next?

Killian sighs. “Okay . . . new topic of conversation. Remember that night we came out here with Mel and those other guys?”

My face heats up. He just dives right into the awkward conversations. “Yes. Didn’t we talk about this already?”

Killian’s fingers stop their frantic dance. “Sorry. I don’t mean to keep bringing it up. But I was just curious . . . Pop-music–hater Seth seemed kind of into Mel. Are they together?”

I shrug. I don’t want to think about Seth and Mel right now. “It’s complicated. They’re best friends.”

“I think Mel was trying to use me to make him jealous.” Killian’s voice is calm and flat, just stating the facts.

I stay quiet. That is definitely what Mel was doing, but it sounds extra-terrible when Killian says it out loud. “I don’t think she does it consciously. She’s not awesome at relationships. Flirting, yes. Actually being committed to someone, not so much.”

Then it hits me—
this
is the main reason it’s so upsetting to think of Mel and Seth getting together. Not because I irrationally want to keep Seth for myself even though I don’t like him that way, or because I want them both to love me more than they love each other, but because their relationship has an expiration date. They’ll be happy for a few months before Mel gets distracted and finds some other guy to chase, and Seth will be devastated. And that will be the end of the three of us.

Killian sits up quickly, his hat dropping into his lap. His face is only a few inches from mine, and all I can see is slightly sunburned cheeks and clear blue eyes. “What about you, Vee? Are you any good at relationships?”

I tear my gaze away from Killian’s and struggle not to laugh. I used to think I was an expert at being in a relationship. If you had asked me six months ago, I would have said I was an A+, honor-roll, Dean’s-list-quality-relationship partner. But the fact that I was completely blindsided when my boyfriend broke up with me suggests I still have some things to learn in that department.

“I—” A loud whoop cuts me off, and four canoes float into sight. “Thank God, there they are,” I say, scrambling to my feet. The crowd in the canoes waves their paddles in the air and sing along to the strains of “Sweet Home Alabama” coming from iPod speakers set up on one of the seats.

“Great. They’re totally hammered.” Killian rises to his feet. “But I do love this song. I’ll put the canoes away if you can get them to the parking lot so we can close the gate behind them.”

“Deal.” I stare at the approaching canoers, feeling Killian’s eyes on me but afraid to meet his gaze. “I bet we can be out of here in half an hour.”

The canoers greet us with big hugs and slaps on the back, and half-coherent stories about their beer-soaked day as they stumble through the shallow water at the edge of the river, unloading coolers, empty bottles, and sopping wet towels. It takes a little longer than half an hour, but we’re finally able to get them herded over to their cars as the sky darkens with the coming storm. Killian locks Bob’s keys inside the bus, and I push the rusted iron gate closed. The drunkies can stay in the parking lot all night if they want to.

The wind picks up suddenly, and we hear the rain before we feel it, the soft pitter-patter of drops falling down through the pine branches growing louder with each passing moment.

“Here we go,” Killian says, and holds out his arm, his tan skin speckled with raindrops. Thunder booms overhead as the rain picks up. “Come on!” Killian yells, running for the parking lot.

I tear after him, feet crunching over the gravel, the sharp smell of rain in my nose.

“Where’s your car?” he yells.

I point, unlocking the doors remotely as we run. We duck inside as the shower of rain falling through the trees turns into a roar. I brush at the raindrops clinging to my legs and shake out my hair. Killian’s T-shirt is polka-dotted with dozens of dark circles, and his hair is matted and hanging down into his face.

“Any chance you could give me a ride home?” he asks. “The Jeep is good for many things, but driving in the rain is not one of them.”

“Oh my God,” I say, craning my neck to look out the window. “Will it be okay?”

Killian shrugs. “It’s kind of at the point where nothing can hurt it anymore. It’s parked under the trees, and I put the tarp on this morning.”

I fasten my seat belt and start the car, kicking the windshield wipers into high gear as the rain crashes down, splashing through rapidly forming puddles as I turn left onto the country road, heading away from Butterfield. Lightning flashes in the sky, a great forked strike that seems to freeze time for a split second, searing into my eyeballs.

I grip the steering wheel, suddenly nervous. “Maybe it’s not the best idea to be driving around in this storm,” I say. “I think it’s getting worse.”

“There’s a bridge with a pullout underneath in a few miles,” Killian says. “We can stay there until it’s over—twenty minutes, tops.” He reaches over and gives my arm a quick shake. “It’ll be okay. Promise.”

I nod and hunch forward to stare out the windshield, but the rain is coming down faster than the wipers can whip it away. I don’t even see the bridge until we’re practically underneath it. “Pull over here,” Killian says, and slides out of the car as soon as it comes to a stop.

I push open my door and step out, goose bumps rising on my skin as a cool wind sweeps under the bridge, bringing a spray of water with it.

“Do you have some towels or anything?” he asks.

“Sure.” I pop the trunk and pull out a couple of beach towels and a blanket.

Killian wipes down the hood of the car, offering me a place to sit.

“Hop up.” He drapes the blanket around my shoulders as I step onto the bumper and settle myself on the hood. “Now, watch.”

From underneath the bridge, we can see out across a few acres of cherry fields, right into the heart of the storm. Lightning strikes nearly every minute, each flash brighter than the last, and the air is sharp with the smell of rain.

Killian sits next to me and leans back on his hands, swinging his feet. I pull the blanket more tightly around me, shivering as another gust of wind sprinkles cold rain on my face.

“I’m so glad those idiots didn’t get caught out in this storm.”

Killian nods. “I don’t know if they would have made it, and I would not be looking forward to explaining to Mr. Flaherty how some of his customers sank their canoes and drowned.”

He leans back, his hand landing close to mine. I stiffen. Maybe it’s the thunderstorm and being stuck under the bridge and feeling like we’re the only people in the world right now, but every cell in my body is aching to reach out and touch him. But I can’t. I still have
H
,
I
, and
J
to get through first. And even then, will I be able to kiss Killian? For the first time, I’m not sure if I even want him to be my
K
kiss. Getting him involved in the game seems . . . wrong.

“So, do you have any brothers or sisters?” I go for literally the most boring topic of conversation possible, hoping to squelch the feelings rising up in me like floodwaters.

He gives me a long look. “Nope. Just me and my parents. What about you? Do you have a million brothers and sisters? Or a giant python in a cage underneath your bed?”

I laugh. “Trust me, I’m not that interesting. I have a mom and a brother and cat named Fat Snacks. And a half sister who lives with my dad and his wife.” It sounds so complicated when I lay it all out like that. Usually I don’t think of Dad and Lila as my family—it’s really just me and my mom and Jeffrey. “My dad’s relatives mostly live far away, but we’re having a stupid reunion in a couple of weeks.”

“I was testing you on that python thing, you know.” Killian looks at me and raises one eyebrow. “If you had screamed or looked at me like I was a psycho, then our friendship would be over. Because I definitely have a giant python in a cage under my bed.”

I make a show of scooting away from him. “Okay, that is kind of disgusting.”

“Dang.” Killian snaps his fingers. “And I thought we had a good thing going.”

We do have a good thing going. As Killian said, we’re Team Us. My stomach flutters at the thought.

The rain is starting to lighten up, and the sky is turning light blue at the edges. The storm is moving east. I hug myself against the cold. Killian hesitates for a second and then drops his arm around my shoulders. I stiffen.

“Ah. Okay.” He pulls away. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. I mean, it’s not really fine. I don’t want—”

He holds up a hand to stop me, his smile not completely covering the hurt in his eyes. “It’s okay, Vee. You don’t have to explain.”

“I’m just going through some stuff right now,” I say, because Killian is awesome, and he does deserve an explanation, even if it’s not the whole truth. I hate myself a little bit now for even getting wrapped up in the Twenty-Six Kisses thing in the first place. “I went through a bad breakup at the beginning of the summer, and I’m just trying to figure things out.”

He nods and stares straight ahead. “I didn’t mean to force you into having this conversation.” I open my mouth to protest, but he plows ahead. “But since we’re having it, I just want to say I knew I was going to like you from the minute we met. And I was right.”

I clasp my hands together in my lap. “Thanks.” I don’t know what else to say.
I think you’re pretty cool too, but I’m taking the summer off from real relationships to smooch my way across Northern Michigan? Give me a week or so to get to
K
and we’ll see how it goes?

“I better get you home,” I say, letting the blanket drop from my shoulders even though it’s so warm, I’d be happy to stay curled up underneath it all day.

Killian gives me another long look. “Okay,” he says finally, sliding off the hood of the car and offering his hand to help me down.

Awkwardness hangs thick in the air on the rest of the drive to Trawley. Killian bops along to the radio like usual, but the normal happy, uncomplicated atmosphere that exists when we’re together has been replaced by something much more emotionally charged. I can’t imagine what is going through his head. Mine is filled with a never-ending loop of regret:
You screwed up. You screwed up. You screwed up, and you’re never going to get another chance with him even if you decide you want one.

I pull up to his house, a plain two-story, and he punches me lightly on the shoulder before getting out of the car. “If I ruined things between us, I’m going to hate myself,” he says, running a hand absently over his stubbly jaw. “So let’s just rewind to a couple of hours ago and start over from there tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” I say, doing my best to smile. I’m not surprised he doesn’t invite me in, but I am disappointed. I would have loved to meet his parents and see his bedroom, to get a glimpse into the inner workings of Killian Hughes. But he disappears inside the house without looking back, and I drive home to Butterfield, knowing something has gone wrong between us and being totally unsure of how to make it right.