Stolen Kisses Read online

  “Or something.” My gut wrenches because I’m afraid I just spilled a lie at the feet of my newfound little sister. Darcy bounces through my mind, and I let her bounce right back out.

  Ava’s shoulders sag as if the idea actually left her dejected. “That’s great. Can’t wait to meet my big brother’s main squeeze.” She glances around as the crowd presses closer to the exit. “Is she here? What’s her name anyway? I bet I know her.” Her lids hang heavy at the prospect.

  “Darcy—and no, she’s not here.” My stomach heats in a vat of acid at the trajectory this conversation just took. I can’t let Ava think I’ve got someone in my life when I don’t. Especially now that I’ve all but volunteered to take her under my wing. I couldn’t protect Steph from the lies her friends told her, but I can be a better brother to Ava and start by not lying to her myself. “Actually, Darcy and I aren’t together anymore.” There. It feels as if a bowling ball just rolled off my chest. “We’re sort of in that nebulous place that happens afterward.”

  A large crowd presses through, inadvertently landing Ava against my chest, and my arm swoops over her back in an effort to keep her from tipping over. That fuzzy sweater warms my shirt, but the softness, the heft of her tits pressed to my chest, the heat from her body, it all sets my brain on fire. For one brief moment, the noise dissipates, the crowd melts into a dizzying blur, but Ava keeps her eyes trained on mine, and in that one miraculous moment, I forget about the past, the present, and a future that seems to stretch out before me like a thicket of black clouds.

  Ava hikes up on her tiptoes with her hair spilling over my chest. I’d have to lean in if I wanted to kiss her. Ava’s mouth barely crests my neck.

  “How about we take the party outside?” she shouts up over the music. Her teeth glow in this dim light as if she took a bite right out of the moon. “Or maybe we should get a drink?” Her eyes light up at the prospect. I know for a fact there’s not a whole lot of carding going on at the house. I’m guessing she’s eighteen, nineteen max.

  “Outside sounds good.” I take her by the hand, and her fingers lace easy through mine and it’s a perfect fit. There’s something both fragile and strong about Ava, and I can’t pinpoint quite why I feel that way.

  We thread our way through the tangle of limbs. The smell of beer and the slight stench of weed follow us right out the door into the sharp icy night. Hollow Brook is lit up with a spray of white stars against the deep navy sky. That’s the one thing I appreciate the most about this mountainous terrain, the proximity to nature, the abundance of stars at night. I thought about going away for college—anywhere but here, anywhere but the scene of the crime, but I couldn’t do it.

  Ava pulls in close, and I can feel her tiny frame shiver as we make our way down the porch.

  “You okay in that?” I glance down at her bare thighs, trying to not hone in on the fact I can get an eyeful if I wanted. The skirt is that short. “I can run back in and grab a blanket or a robe.”

  “A robe, huh?” She shakes her head, and her hair flares out like the wings of a bird. “Wow, you really are going to make a great big brother. We’re already off to a grand start. You just dragged me out of a raging party.”

  “Dragged you?” I’m only partly amused, another very real part of me wonders if I’ll be taken in for assault. “It was your suggestion.”

  “Never mind that.” Her eyes light up with a wicked gleam as if she has a secret, and she can hardly contain it for another moment. “You’re still holding my hand.” Her fingers press in, and a charge heats through me. I am still holding her hand. A part of me refuses to let go. I haven’t held a girl’s hand in so long, not since Darcy, but that never felt quite like this. Darcy has long bony fingers, claws for nails, and Ava’s sweet hand dovetails to mine without any real promise of injury. I give a little laugh at the thought as I shake us loose.

  “Better?”

  “Definitely not better.” She wrinkles her nose, and something about that small gesture warms me. “So score one on the big brother board for removing me from the presence of a hundred drunken frat boys. It’s sort of my first mixer.” Her eyes stray over my shoulder at the rowdy crowd that’s spilling onto the porch. “I take it you don’t really get to know anyone too well in there. It was sort of sold as a meet-and-greet—minus any celebrities.”

  “How do you know I’m not a celebrity?” I snatch a basketball from behind the bush—the same place Rush and I landed it this morning.

  “You’re not a celebrity.” She makes a face as she swipes the ball right out of my hands and manages to impress the hell out of me at the same time.

  “Whoa—you’re good.” A surge of adrenaline spikes through me with that one simple move. “I didn’t see that coming, sort of the way I didn’t see you coming when you crashed into my table this afternoon. Are you always so subtle?” I snatch the ball back and bounce it over to the side of the building. Beta Kappa Phi is way too big to be referenced as something as humble as a house. This is a McMansion at its finest—heck, it’s the real deal, but for sure it’s no humble home. Maybe that’s why I’ve decided to take a little sister under my wing. I wasn’t going to do it until Rush and Lawson double-teamed me. Rush thought it might even be good for me, get my mind off my restless dick as he put it, and just hang out with one sweet girl, chill out, just be myself until my self-imposed moratorium on women is over and out.

  Stephanie and that silly grin she used to wear whenever the girls came knocking at our door comes back to me. Breaks my heart all over. I miss her. I miss her every damn day. Whoever says death gets easier to deal with over time was one heck of a liar. It gets tougher. It hurts like living hell. It is hell.

  “Where’s your head?” She snatches the ball and dribbles around me as she’s about to score the winning basket. A couple looks over, their bodies partially hidden in the shadows. It’s clear from the way their limbs are wrapped around one another, by the heavy-lidded look the dude just gave me, that they’re enjoying one another’s company on another level.

  “Come on. Let’s go.” I snatch the ball out of Ava’s hands and run us out of there. “Not in front of my little sister, dude!” I shout back, and Ava and I break out into laughter before we hit the street.

  “Boy you’re a riot.” She slows down as the noise from the frat house dims to nothing. “So, you escape killer parties, stop hookups cold in the middle of the night—what else do you do for fun?”

  “Pick girls at random and make them my little sister.”

  “That sounds incredibly kinky.” Her eyes light up as her gaze meets with mine. Something about the slow way she expelled those words makes my heart thump right into my ears. “Should I be expecting kink?”

  A part of me demands to say only if you want it, but my jaw wires itself shut, and I shake my head instead. Forget monitoring Rush. It’s safe to say I’ll have to monitor myself around Ava.

  “Okay, Grant.” Ava threads her arm through mine, and we start in on a walk down the oak-lined streets of The Row. The ground fog lifts and swirls at our feet, and I kick it and watch as it rises like smoke. “What’s a typical weekend like?”

  “I work out. If there’s no game, I head home. My folks live close by in The Hills.”

  “Ooh, a Hills boy, huh?” The Hills is synonymous with wealth, but ironically we’re not wealthy by any stretch of the imagination. “My family isn’t too far either.” Ava’s expression darkens as if trying to submerge a bad memory. “I’m not that close with my parents anymore. I want to be. I think we will be again one day. But anyway, what are your folks like?” She looks up, her face glowing pale like a star, the way the night demands a beautiful girl like Ava shine. I study the papery nuances of her features, her pale pink lips that the moon kisses just to make me jealous. Damn, I want to kiss her. What the hell did I just get myself into?

  “They’re great. My mom was an English teacher up until she retired a few years back.” I’m not sure retired is the right word, but I go with it. When
Stephanie died, it paralyzed my entire family—jobs were lost, grades were sunk, money we didn’t even have seemed to float away. When Stephanie died, she took everything with her—the light, the dark, every shade in between, every hour of every day collapsed on itself like a dying star. “My dad tinkers with models in the garage.”

  “What!” Ava jumps and swats me with that laughter of hers bubbling from her throat. If roses could sing, that’s exactly what they’d sound like. Damn, that was a weird thought. I blink back at her as she settles down.

  “Battleships,” I add quickly. “Ships in a bottle. Stuff like that. Metal boxed kits that he transforms into works of art. I’ll bring you by the house one day so you can meet the parents.” The therapist told him to find something he can control, and he did just that. Wait, did I just say meet the parents? My mouth does realize I’m not dating this chick, doesn’t it? I frown at my own blunder. Mom will never buy the fact we’re just friends. Hell, my boxers aren’t buying it either.

  “I’d love to meet Mom and Dad.” She bumps her shoulder to mine when she says it. “Can I spend the night in your room?” She blinks up with a contrived level of innocence, and I laugh. “No, seriously.” She gives my arm a firm squeeze. “Will Mom be making her famous apple pie? I can help. I’m a charm in the kitchen. And wait until you see what I can do in the bedroom!” She snatches the ball out of my hands again and dribbles down the street.

  A laugh gets locked in my throat. “How’d you know she makes a famous apple pie?”

  “Because she’s your mom, and you’re like perfect.” She averts her eyes as if it were a fact, and something about that tiny, perhaps unbelievable compliment warms me to my egotistical bones. “You have the perfect family, a killer smile. I bet your ex is perfect, too.” She sticks her finger down her throat and gags. “And now here I am, rounding out the perfect party.” She dances on one leg as she says it, and something in me loosens. Ava is a party all right.

  “You’re the perfect little sister, Ava. I knew I pegged you right.”

  “What’s this?” She jolts the ball my way like she’s about to make a pass and catches it. “You want to peg me?” She bites down on her lower lip, and swear to God, my balls throb on command. “I knew you were a perfect pervert.”

  “You wish.” Now it’s me knocking my shoulder into hers. It feels nice like this, dare I say perfect. “So, are you okay with this big brother deal? I know you’ve got one. You in the mood for two?”

  Ava’s eyes snag on to mine a moment too long, that day-glow color, the exact hue of the Caribbean Sea makes me want to linger. “I’m in.” Something in her softens, and her lips turn down at the corners. “B-b-besides, you mentioned you used to be a brother.” Her brows arch as grief dims the light in her, and something about the way she stumbled over her words endears me to her. “I want to be there for you, Grant. That’s what little sisters do, right? They, they”—she gulps as if she were struggling to get her words out— “they give their big brothers someone to look out for—and they look out for them.”

  Ava nails me with those words. I’ve heard many consoling phrases since the day Stephanie passed away, but Ava and her heartfelt sentiment seared me to the bone.

  I rough up her hair a moment. “Something tells me you’ll be easy to keep an eye on.”

  “Oh yeah?” Ava dribbles the ball in a dizzying circle around me. “Just try to catch me!” She takes off with the ball, and I bolt right after her.

  “Hey, slow down! I’m telling Mom!”

  We laugh all the way to Whitney Briggs.

  Yeah, Ava is going to be a handful. All I have to do is remember to keep it chaste. I’m still finding me, burying Stephanie—Ava doesn’t quite fit into that equation.

  But everything in me screams she does.

  Little White Lies

  Ava

  The rest of the weekend drags by with no sign of Grant. In an effort to look poised and polished last Friday night, I may have forgotten a few important details, like getting his number. Although the paranoid part of me did consider the fact that maybe he thought it best not to exchange our seven digits lest I text him to an early grave. I have been known to be quite prolific, penning entire tomes to friends far and near on my favorite digital device. I can’t help it. I’m a talker—and in Grant’s case, I’ve quickly evolved to a stalker. I’ve been interested in boys before. There was this one guy in boarding school whom I had a quasi-relationship with, but that was junior high. We hardly kissed, let alone dated. Once my parents booted me to public school, I was basically in survival mode. To put it mildly, high school sucked big hairy balls. The girls hated me. The boys simply weren’t interested, and the teachers, well, they weren’t really all that interested either. I knew college had to be better, so I clawed my way here early. I bet I’m the only seventeen-year-old on campus. But who cares? With Lucky and Harper—with my new big brother Grant—my life is immeasurably better.

  Monday lives up to its infamy by slogging by irritatingly slow. English 101 is the new bane of my existence with pre-calculus coming up for a close second. Once classes are through for the day, both Lucky and Harper head to Hallowed Grounds for coffee, but I make a beeline for the Black Bear to meet with my magnificent mentor—Daisy Pembrooke, my self-appointed big sister. If it’s one thing I didn’t expect to earn at Whitney Briggs, it’s a whole new set of siblings, one of which I’d like to wed and bed and not necessarily in that order.

  The Black Bear smells of fries and wine, a somewhat stomach-churning combination for those of us too young to legally imbibe. Not that those frat parties care if I partake in an illegal liquor-based activity. Lucky and I have clutched a red Solo or two, but Harper is still a virgin in that capacity—not in the traditional capacity. That award goes to her part-time boy toy, Justin. Lucky and I happen to be virgins in the traditional capacity, and if Jet and Owen have a say in it, we always will be. There’s no way we’re going to pull the penis wool over their eyes. Not at Whitney Briggs with the two of them breathing down our virginal necks.

  A familiar redhead waves from the bar, and I wave back at my cousin, Roxy. Rox and her brother, Ryder, are about the only other people I really know in this end of town. Of course, I know Roxy’s boyfriend, Cole. He’s a bartender here at the Black Bear part-time and a student at WB. He also happens to be a total sculpted masterpiece. I sort of know Baya, Cole’s sister. She’s the one Aubree almost offed a few years back, and it’s because of that my sister was finally stopped in her murderous tracks. A pressing grief washes over me as Aubree sinks to the forefront of my mind, and I’m quick to push her away.

  “Get over here, girl!” Roxy pulls me in for a strong hug. Her long crimson waves hold the scent of sugar and cinnamon, most likely because she’s been baking all day. Roxy owns her own cupcake business, Sprinkles, and is doing better than okay for herself. The way she’s filling orders you would think there was gold in each batch. “What brings you this way? You meeting Owen?”

  “Nope.” That’s the thing with the Black Bear. It’s always crawling with family. I’m about the only girl at WB who isn’t grateful there’s a bar across the street. “Actually, I’m meeting with a friend.” I scan the area for the blonde in question. Daisy is beautiful and smart, although she’s made a few dicey life decisions, like pole dancing, letting people suck sushi off her naked body at corporate events—and falling into a fake, yet heavily publicized relationship with some old coot from the Senate. She’s no saint, but in truth, that makes me like her all that much more.

  Roxy’s dark red lips round out into the perfect O, and suddenly I have the urge to stick a lollipop into her mouth. “Would that friend happen to be of the male persuasion?”

  “Are you insane? You do know who my brother is, right?” Considering Roxy is pretty close to Owen, I think it’s best to keep all parties in the dark about my newfound obsession. It’s too bad. Roxy is a great person, and I would love to spill all of my feelings about my new, big bro.

  “Hey,
you!” Laney hops around from the other side of the bar. Laney is Ryder’s wife—more family to contend with, case in point why the Black Bear is a no-go for me as far as fun zones are concerned. That’s part of the reason I wanted to rush Kappa G. There’s not a single family member on The Row, and I like it that way. “Meeting up with Owen?” Laney bats those big doe eyes my way. She’s always reminded me a bit of those cartoon drawings of beautiful little girls with giant oversized eyes. Laney is hysterical and just the kind of girl anyone would love as a friend, which is probably why she’s one of Roxy’s best friends. A few years back, Owen took me to see a few plays that Laney was in. She’s always starring in something with the WB theater department.

  “Are you kidding?” I smirk at the thought of meeting up with my controlling brother. “I’m here to relax. If I wanted to have someone size me for a chastity belt, I would have gone straight to his apartment.”

  Laney sucks in a breath. “That bad, huh?”

  “Worse,” I offer just as a perky little blonde buzzes into the bar. “Here’s my ride! Gotta go.” I jump off the stool and turn back. “How about an order of sweet potato fries? They’re my favorite!”

  “I’ll keep ’em coming!” Laney disappears to the kitchen with a wave.

  “Daisy!” I squeal all the way over to her before dragging her off to a table a safe distance from the bar itself. “So glad you could make it. I’ve got great news!”

  “Let me guess.” She leans in, and a gust of her cotton candy perfume wafts over me. Daisy is perfect both inside and out. I know she’s self-conscious about everything that’s happened to her this year, but the way she’s handled it makes her look like that much more of a badass. “He’s tattooed your face on his chest, proposed, and has already named your future children.” She fans herself with her fingers. “Let this be a lesson—all of my advice is golden. I may not know how to navigate my own life, but I sure can drive the hell out of yours.”