The Art of Kissing by Jessica Sorensen

Raven

“This is so not fair,”Hunter gripes as Jax and I hold a bottle of alcohol, preparing to take a drink. “I want to play, too.”

Mine is the coffee liquor, which isn’t very good plain, but the only other option was whiskey, and Jax scooped that one up right away.

“We’re almost to the house,” Jax tells him with his hand wrapped around the bottle. Every so often, the lampposts lining the street reflect in his eyes and reveal that he’s starting to relax. I’m sure the three shots we’ve taken are helping with that. “You can take one when we get there.”

I giggle. I’m not even sure why, other than I’m slightly buzzed.

“Traitor,” Hunter teases me while lightly tugging a strand of my hair.

I giggle again, and a smile curves at his lips.

“You know what? I don’t care if you guys are drinking without me. I’d seriously cut off my right arm if it meant I got to hear you giggle like that.”

I giggle again. “How in the hell would cutting an arm off make me giggle?”

He shrugs, one of his hands resting on the steering wheel. “I don’t know. But saying that made you giggle.”

“True.” I turn back to Jax, tap the bottle that I’m holding with his, and then take a long swallow.

He does the same.

“Dude, you two need to slow down, or you’re going to be trashed before we even get inside the house,” Hunter says as he steers the car into the driveway.

The moment he parks, Jax announces, “I gotta piss.” He sets the bottle of whiskey down, bails out of the car, and hurries … around the side of the house.

“What the crap?” I twist to face Hunter. “Where the heck is he going?”

Hunter pushes the shifter into park and silences the engine. “Probably to piss in a bush.”

I crinkle my nose. “Ew.”

He chuckles as he slips the keys out of the ignition. “Apparently, you’ve never hung out with drunk guys before.”

I shake my head. “I’ve never hung out with anyone before.” I take another swig as the truth burns in my chest. “I’m too big of a loser for anyone to want to hang out with me.”

Yeah … So, drunk Raven can get a little confessional sometimes. And I’d stop her, but I am her, so…

Wait … What?

His whole expression drops. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

I shrug, staring down at the space between us so I won’t have to look him in the eyes. “I don’t believe. I know.”

“Aw, baby, that’s not true at all.” He cups my face with his hands and angles my head up so I’m looking at him. “Jax and I already love hanging out with you. I just regret that I didn’t hang on to you tighter when that fight broke out at the bar.”

“Me, too,” I admit. “I liked the feel of your hand on my waist. It made my skin feel all tingly.”

Seriously, drunk Raven, shut up.

He pauses, hesitancy written all over his face as he lowers his hand from me. “How drunk are you?”

I give a half-shrug. “I don’t know. I’m just saying the truth. I … I like it when you touch me. I’m not used to it, but I like it.”

He stares at me for a beat while dragging his teeth along his bottom lip. Then, without uttering a word, he reaches out, takes the bottle from my hand, and downs a long swallow. When he removes the bottle from his lips, he rubs his lips together as he extends his hand toward my face. No, not my face. My lips. With his fingers, he traces a path along the bottom one.

“I love touching you, too, baby. You’re so soft …” He moves his fingers back and forth across my bottom lip. “And if it weren’t for a lot of complications and the fact that I think you might be a bit drunk, I might just see what you taste like.”

My breath catches in my throat. Then, through the fogginess in my mind, a voice whispers at me that maybe I should lean back from his touch. I’m not sure, why—the fogginess is too thick.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, and my breath catches again. He parts his lips … but then he sighs, lowering his hand. “And here comes Dad to ruin our fun.”

“Wait … your dad’s here?” I’m so confused.

An instant later, headlights illuminate across the driveway.

I look back through the rear window and spot Zay’s car pulling into the driveway. Apparently, Dad means Zay. I realize then that the guys never use their garage. I wonder why but don’t get the opportunity to ask as Hunter climbs out of the car.

I follow suit, sliding to the edge of the seat and getting out. As I stand up, I become aware that I’m a tad more drunk than I thought, but nothing I can’t handle. Hunter must disagree, since he rounds the front of the car, comes up beside me, and slips his arm around my back.

Zay hops out of his car then makes his way toward us, the chain that dangles from his belt loop jingling.

The closer he gets to where we’re standing close to the porch light, the more I can make out his features … and the fresh cut across his face.

“Did you get into a fight?” I ask, leaning my weight into Hunter.

He studies me closely. “Are you drunk?”

I glance around like the answers are hidden in the bushes somewhere. “Um … maybe?” I return my gaze to Zay.

Zay looks at Hunter. “What the hell is going on? Where did you guys go?”

Hunter hesitates, and right at that precise moment, Jax stumbles out of the bushes, startling Zay enough that he jolts.

“Shit,” Jax curses as he trips over a bush and nearly falls on his face. He manages to regain his balance, though, and walks over to us.

“So, you’re all drunk?” Zay shakes his head, clearly annoyed.

“I’m not … yet,” Hunter offers. “But only because I was DD.”

Zay crosses his arms. “Who did you get the alcohol from? Because I’m assuming that’s where you went.”

Hunter tenses, which makes me tense.

Zay glares at Hunter and says in a cold tone, “You got it from my brother, didn’t you?” He doesn’t wait for Hunter to respond. He just storms toward the house.

“Before you get too pissed off,” Hunter calls out after him, “you should know that some guy in the bar started a fight so he could grab Raven.”

Zay slams to a halt a few feet from Jax, his back stiff. Slowly, he turns around, his expression unreadable. “What?” He bites out the word.

“It’s fine,” I feel the need to say. “He just wanted to give me a card that’s to, like, this secret club or something that supposedly has answers to my past.”

When Zay’s gaze slides to me, I regret even open my mouth. But I wouldn’t be me if I backed down, so I open my mouth to tell him to chill out when thunder suddenly booms from the sky. It’s so loud that I jump.

“It’s okay,” Hunter tells me. “It’s just a little storm. One that totally came out of nowhere.”

I peer up at the now dark sky right as a bolt of lightning zaps across the sky. I jump again, but I can’t help it.

From the memories I can recall, every time a violent storm rolls in, something bad happens. I either break my arm falling off a swing set, get lost in the woods, or my parents die. And those are just the things I remember. Who the hell knows what else has happened in my hidden memories?

“We should get inside,” Hunter mumbles but starts backing up. “Let me grab the alcohol.” He jogs to the car, puts all the bottles in the bag, then slings the handle over his shoulder and returns to my side. Then he grabs my hand and starts forward, pulling me with him.

Zay and Jax follow, and the four of us head up the path to the house. We make it halfway before the rain starts showering down and have to take off at a run, barreling onto the front porch. Zay hurriedly unlocks the door, and then we rush inside the house.

“Just a little storm, my ass,” I comment at the sound of rain hammering down on the roof and the thunder booming from outside.

Hunter grins as he sets the bag onto the foyer floor and shucks off his hoodie. “Honeyton has killer storms.”

His choice of words causes goosebumps to sprout across my flesh.

Killer.

You are a killer.

And the last time there was a violent storm, you may have killed your parents.

Sometimes, in the darkness of night, I can recall brief flashes of the storm from the day my parents were killed. The sound of the thunder had felt like it was burrowing into my brain to the point that I had a headache.

“So, who wants to tell me what’s going on?” Zay’s voice tears me from my thoughts as he takes off his jacket and hangs it on a coatrack.

Hunter trades a look with Jax and me before sighing. “Well, since I’m the soberest, I guess I will,” he says, heading toward the living room and motioning for us to follow him.

I turn to do just that when Jax snags a hold of my hand, grabs the bag from the floor, and pulls me in the opposite direction, toward the kitchen.

“We’ll be there in a second,” Jax calls out. “We’re going to make more drinks.”

Someone says something, but I can’t make out what it is as we push through the kitchen door and step into the dark room. Jax sets the bag down on the counter without bothering to turn on the light. Me? I hate the dark, and the sight of the flashes of lightning from outside is creeping me out.

“Can I turn on the light?” I ask Jax.

He unzips the bag. “Of course. You don’t have to ask, Raven. This is your house now, too.”

A smile touches my face as I backtrack to the light switch and flip it on. The kitchen briefly illuminates before going dark again.

Jax pauses from digging around in the bag, lifting his head to peer up at the light. Then he looks out the window where nothing but darkness and the occasional flash of light can be seen. “Shit, I think the power went out,” he mutters as he grabs a bottle from out of the bag and sets it on the counter. “Let me go grab a flashlight from the storage closet.” He starts across the kitchen, heading to leave the room.

Panic sets in, crawling inside my veins and causing my breathing to quicken.

I hate the dark.

I hate the way it consumes me.

I hate the way it takes over my mind.

I hate the way I feel like I’m being watched.

“I can see you, Raven,” he whispers in my ear. “Even though it’s dark, I can still see you. I can always see you.”

I gasp, stumbling backward as darkness consumes my vision.

I’m alone.

Alone.

Alone.

With nothing but darkness.

In a padded room.

Where the doctor watches me.

“Raven? Sweetheart, look at me.” Jax’s voice floats through the darkness, and then I feel warm hands touch my face. “Look at me, okay? Take a deep breath.”

I do what he says.

Trust him.

Air in …

Air out …

Air in …

The darkness slowly starts to fade as his face comes into focus. I can’t see it clearly, but it’s enough that I can make out his features and his eyes. His eyes that are locked on mine. He’s standing right in front of me, and my back is against a wall.

“There you go,” he says softly. “Just take another deep breath, okay?”

Nodding, I do what he says while latching on to the bottom of his shirt, my fingers skimming his abs.

“How did you know that would get me to calm down?” I ask him, my voice still a bit breathless.

He skims his finger along my cheekbone. “I’m the queen of anxiety attacks, sweetheart. I have to do that shit all the time.”

I can’t help but smile a bit. “Queen, huh? Not king?”

“Fuck no. I’d way rather be a queen than a king. Kings are way too power hungry.” His tone is light and playful. I appreciate it, but …

“Are you still drunk?” I ask, sliding my hands around his waist.

“A little bit,” he answers while shivering. “You?”

“A little.” I brush my fingers along the flesh of his back, the feel of it calming me down slightly.

He shivers again, and I’m unsure if it’s from me touching him or the fact that the house is getting cold without the heater running.

“Raven,” he whispers while lowering his forehead to mine, “if you keep touching me like that, I’m gone …” He trails off, leaning in to, I think, kiss me.

My heart pounds in my chest louder than the thunder as his lips brush mine. I gasp, digging my fingernails into his back, and a moan fumbles from his lips.

I start to withdraw, wondering if I hurt him.

“No,” he quickly says. “Don’t move your hands. Please … just touch me like that again.”

A little confused, I place my hands on his back again.

He kisses me again, this time biting my bottom lip. He groans again while thrusting his hips against mine as he parts my lips with his tongue.

Oh my God …

This kissing thing …

The art of it …

It’s wonderfully complicated …

And boy, oh boy, are my thoughts precisely accurate because, a moment later, Hunter and Zay walk into the kitchen. We don’t hear the door open right away or notice the glow of the candles they’re carrying, so they get a full view of Jax and me kissing.

“You have got to be shitting me,” Hunter mumbles.

The sound of his voice slices through the kiss, and Jax and I jerk back.

The candlelight casts across his face and illuminates the anger in his blue eyes. The anger that is directed at Jax. He doesn’t say anything; just shakes his head, spins around, and hurries out of the room.

“Fuck,” Jax curses as he pushes away from me and drags his hand through his hair.

Zay is holding a candle, so I get a good glimpse of the concern in Jax’s eyes and the annoyance in Zay’s.

“You gonna go talk to him?” Zay asks Jax with his brow meticulously arched.

Jax’s arm falls to his side as he nods. “Yeah …” He starts for the door, flicking one last glance in my direction before exiting the kitchen.

I swallow hard as I slowly look away from the door and shift my gaze to Zay. Then I brace myself for some asshole remark about how them fighting is my fault. And it probably is. I just can’t quite figure out why, and that pisses me off. Are my people skills so messed up that I literally have no social skills whatsoever?

You’re a freak, Raven.

You’ll never fit in.

No one wants you.

You are broken.

You are a murderer.

You ruin everything.

Tears burn in my eyes. Fucking tears.

What is wrong with me? Why am I crying? Because I messed up yet another thing in my life. I should be used to it by now.

A slow breath eases from my lips. “I should go.”

Yeah, that’s the right thing to do. Let these guys be and stop dragging them into the drama that always seems to be around me.

Zay lifts the candle toward my face. You know, where the evidence of tears are. He zeroes in on my eyes, like he knew I was about to cry. “Go where? There’s a fucking storm going on outside.”

I hurriedly look away from him, blinking a ton of times.

Stop crying, you dumbass. You’re just drunk. Get over it. You barely know these guys, so who cares if you messed everything up?

I cast a glance at the window, mostly as a distraction from my eyes burning again like dirty little traitors. “The lightning’s stopped. Maybe it means the storm’s over.” I step toward the kitchen doorway, preparing to leave. And, with each step, it feels like my chest is squeezing my heart. But I feel like it’s the right thing to do. Zay should agree with me, too. I’ve been in their lives for only days and have caused nothing but issues.

Unexpectedly, his fingers are wrapping around my arm. “You can’t go.”

I knit my brows as I look at him. “Why not? It’s probably for the better. Besides, you didn’t even want me to live here to begin with,” I remind him, totally confused as to why he’s stopping me.

He rubs his lips together and lets go of my arm. “Whether or not I want you to live here is beside the point. Jax and Hunter need you to live here.”

“But they’re mad at me,” I point out, rotating all the way around to face him.

He shakes his head. “No, they’re not. They’re just confused and have to figure this shit out somehow. It might be better if they just do it now, right at the beginning.”

I angle my head to the side. “At the beginning of what?”

He studies me with his dark eyes. “We should go get some more candles and place them around the house. And then try to get a fire going in the fireplace before it starts to freeze.” His boots scuff against the floor as he heads out of the kitchen.

I’m confused. That’s all there is to say? I don’t know what’s going on with Jax and Hunter, and I don’t know what the hell Zay was just talking about when he said the beginning. I don’t know much of anything, really, when I think about it, because I’ve never experienced much. Well, much when it comes to friendships and just being a normal person. My life has been crazy and filled with arrests, abuse, bullying, drugs, and pain. That’s all I know, and I’m kind of tired of it all.

Perhaps it’s time for a change.

Could that even be possible?

Zay turns toward me in the doorway and cocks a brow at me. “You coming?”

I pause for a second before putting one foot in front of the other, heading toward him, hoping I’m going in the direction toward something different.

Only time will tell.