The Art of Kissing by Jessica Sorensen

Raven

Zay stays fairlyquiet as we collect candles from around the house and light them, one by one, until a faint glow dances around nearly the entire bottom floor of the house.

We’re currently in the washroom, which has a door just before where the kitchen is located. Each candle he lights makes me feel a bit better about the darkness. However, nothing has helped me feel better about how much I upset Jax and Hunter. The longer they’re gone to—well, I’m guessing one of their rooms—the more I worry.

It’s starting to drive me crazy thinking about how I feel like I caused their fight. And the silence isn’t helping alleviate the guilt twisting inside my stomach.

“Dude, you guys have a lot of candles,” I try to joke to crack through the maddening silence.

The corners of his lips twitch as he almost smiles. Then he flicks the lighter and lights another candle. “What constitutes a lot of candles?”

I tap my finger against my lips. “More than ten.”

“And who decided that number?” he questions, setting the candle down on the table.

I shrug. “The most awesome person ever, which just so happens to be standing beside you.”

He presses his together, I think fighting back a smile. Either that or I’m just annoying him. It’s really hard to tell with him.

“So, about that guy you saw in the bar,” he starts as he moves to an end table. Another candle is on there, and he flicks the lighter to light it. “Was there any distinct feature about him?”

“He had a scar on his face,” I say, sketching my finger down my face. “Right here.”

He considers what I said with a crinkle between his brow. “Hunter said he was maybe a little bit older than us, but not by much, right?”

I nod. “And he acted like I should know him, but I didn’t. Well, from what I can remember. My memories can be a little iffy sometimes.”

He bobs his head up and down. “Yeah, mine are a little fucked up, too.”

I raise my brows. “Really?” I’m not sure what I’m surprised by more—the fact that he has a hard time remembering stuff or that he’s sharing something about him with me.

He shrugs. “Yeah, there’s some stuff I block. I think my mind chooses to do it.” He sets the lit candle down on the table, and I notice that, like on his face, his hand is cut up, too.

“So, were you in a fight tonight?” I question.

His lips turn up into a smirk. “If I was, it wouldn’t be anything new.”

“Oh, I know.” I make a mockingly scared face. “Scary Zay. I remember.”

He narrows his eyes at me, but I can tell he’s struggling not to smile. “And smart mouth Raven. I remember, too.”

I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, trying not to smile. I’ll admit, though, that bantering with him is way better than stressing over my thoughts.

He stares at me with this weird look on his face, as if he can’t quite figure something out. Then he suddenly throws me off by saying, “I’m going to go get some firewood from the garage.” He reaches for the washroom door but pauses before opening it. “Stay right here,” he instructs.

“Yes, boss,” I mumble under my breath.

Something flickers in his eyes, like the flame of the candle in his hand. Then he tears his eyes off me and walks into the washroom, leaving me alone with nothing but the firelight to keep me company. As I stand there, all alone, my anxiety returns, and I decide that I might need a bit more to drink if I’m going to make it through the night without a panic attack.

I start for the kitchen but pause when I hear a soft thump from somewhere. I turn back around, holding my breath, wondering where it came from.

Thump.

I tense.

It’s coming from the front door.

I’m not sure why I’m scared. It could just be someone knocking. Then again, the neighborhood is in blackout mode. But maybe someone just needs to, like, borrow a flashlight or some candles … which we have plenty of, so …

Sucking in a breath, I woman up and walk over to the front door. When I peer out the peephole, I can’t see anything other than darkness and a drop of light, which I’m not quite sure where it’s coming from. I crack open the door and peek out. What I see makes my heart skip a beat.

Some of the neighbors have solar lampposts, and the light glitters from them and onto the blanket of snow covering everything. Fluffy snowflakes are also fluttering from the surprisingly quiet sky.

The rainstorm froze into a snowstorm.

I open the door all the way and step outside, my eyes wide. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen snow. A long, long time.

I stick out my hand and catch a snowflake, a smile breaking out onto my face. The last time I can recall being in the snow was when I was a child. My dad and mom had taken me to the park to go sledding, and it was the perfect day. It was probably the only time I can remember where a storm had happened and nothing bad had occurred. Perhaps this time will be different, too.

“Dude, it’s gonna be a shitty winter if it’s snowing already.” Hunter’s voice drifts from over my shoulder.

Anxiety clutches at my throat as I peer around at him. He’s just a few feet behind me, a shadow in the doorway of the house. And just behind him is another figure. When they step forward beside Hunter, I can tell it’s Jax. I try to measure their reactions but, while the solar lampposts do give a drop of light, I can’t read them at all. Probably because I hardly know them. It’s hard to remember that sometimes since I’ve felt this connection to them right from the beginning.

The beginning. Just like Zay said. Though, that still doesn’t help me understand what the hell he meant by it.

“Yeah, it is,” Jax agrees with Hunter as he tilts his head up and peers up at the sky. “That’s okay, though. I like the snow.”

Hunter crinkles his nose. “I know you do, you fucking weirdo.”

Jax chuckles, and the noise is as light and airy as the snow. It makes me wonder if they’re okay now. Then again, neither one of them have actually acknowledged my presence.

As if reading my thoughts, Hunter’s gaze meets mine, and the corners of his lips tug upward. “What’s your opinion on it, pretty Raven?”

“On the snow?” I ask, and he nods, still smiling at me. It makes my stomach feel all fluttery again. He’s smiling, so he’s still my friend … right? “I actually haven’t been around snow since I was a little kid.”

“Really?” Jax asks, looking at me.

Again, my stomach flutters. “Yeah. It was back when my parents were still alive.” I swallow hard as the air grows quiet. I want to ask them if they’re okay, if I messed stuff up, if they want me to leave.

Before I can get a word out, though, Hunter steps out onto the porch with me, his boots crunching in the snow.

“You want to know what I hate about the snow?” he asks, his breath fogging out in front of him. My heart beats quicker in my chest as he smiles at me.

“Sure.”

He leans in, and I hold my breath

“Snowball fights suck,” he whispers in my ear.

Right at that moment, a chunk of snow gets dropped down into the back of my shirt. The coldness seeps through my skin, all the way to my bones, and I let out a squeal, spinning around, wondering what the hell just happened.

Jax has moved around, behind me, and has an innocent grin on his face, his hands raised to his side. Snowflakes dot his inky black hair and, with him dressed all in black, he kind of contrasts with the snow covering everything.

“I swear it wasn’t me.” But he’s grinning like a total guilty person.

I narrow my eyes at him as I bend down and scoop up some snow.

He laughs, jumping backward off the porch and down onto the snow-covered path.

I ball the snow in my hand and raise my hand to throw it.

“How good of an aim do you have?” Hunter asks with a devious grin.

I shrug. “I don’t know. I haven’t spent much time throwing snowballs, or balls, or anything really.”

“Let’s get back up then.” He bends down and grabs some snow to make a snowball for himself.

“You guys are seriously ganging up on me?” Jax asks as he backs up.

I’d feel bad, except he’s laughing and smiling. So, I throw the snowball at him …

And it hits him right in the face.

Everyone freezes. Even me.

“Okay, that was like the perfect aim ever,” Hunter says, breaking the silence.

We all laugh, and then a snowball fight breaks out.

We’re running around like lunatics when Zay wanders out onto the porch. He doesn’t join us. He just stands there and watches with his arms crossed. But he has this strange look on his face, like he’s trying to figure something out. Or maybe it’s like he’s trying to put a puzzle together. What that puzzle is, though, I’m not sure. And I don’t really care, either. All I care about is that this moment is perfect.

But I should’ve known better. Known better than to feel okay with a storm going on. Known better than to think perfection could completely exist without someone trying to destroy it. I’m reminded, though, when I’m running toward the driveway to hide from Jax and Hunter, who are chasing after me with snowballs in their hands.

When I duck behind Zay’s car, I reach down to grab some snow to make a snowball, but I slam to a halt when I spot footsteps in the snow. I wouldn’t think much of it except the footprints clearly go to the back of the car then turn around. And trailing along with them are a few droplets of what looks like red, but I’m trying to convince myself it’s wine or something.

“She’s back here,” Hunter says over the sound of footsteps crunching toward me. He runs to the side of me, smiling, but his smile fades when he notes my expression. “What’s wrong?”

I point at the snow, and his expression plummets.

Jax runs up then with a snowball in his hand. “What’re you guys …?” He drops the snowball as his gaze falls to the footsteps and red droplet that may or may not be blood.

“Is that blood?” Jax asks in horror.

“What’re you guys looking at?” Zay is approaching us now.

Hunter nods at the trail of footprints and questionable blood.

Zay pauses when he reaches us then continues forward, following the path. Hunter takes off after him, and I do, too. Jax grabs a hold of my hand, though. I think he’s trying to stop me, but then he walks with me, holding my hand. When I look at him, he offers me a smile. I smile back, but I’m so damn perplexed.

“Is everything okay with you and Hunter?”

He nods, brushing snowflakes out of his hair with his free hand. “Yeah. For now, I think we are.”

“Oh.” I bite down on my bottom lip, wanting to ask him so many questions. Like, is it okay for him to be holding my hand? Can we still kiss? Is Hunter still going to touch me?

I don’t get the opportunity to, though, as we discover what the trail of footprints and blood leads to.

A raven.

A dead raven with a knife stabbed through it. And painted in blood in the snow are the words …

“Consider this the start of my retaliation,” Hunter reads the words aloud. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Hunter glances and me and Jax, and both of us shrug, but Jax latches onto my hand tightly. I know why, too. I didn’t miss the hidden message, the fact that a raven is dead and my name just happens to be Ravenlee.

Dread webs in my stomach. Who the hell did this?

Hunter looks at Zay, who’s been oddly quiet. “Do you have any idea what this is about?”

He doesn’t say anything right away, skimming his finger along the cuts on his hands as he stares off at the end of the road. “I did something tonight. Something I thought might help us figure out who threw Raven off the bridge.”

Hunter’s face turns cold, his fingers clenching at his sides. “What the fuck did you do?”

He rubs his lips together and says some very ominous words. “Well, I think I may have unintentionally started a war.”