Page 33 of Reviving Kendall

Goose walks over to the white fridge, “Ok, we’ve got water, soda or these little juice things.”

He holds up a silver can that says something about tomato juice on the side and makes a face at it before sticking it back.

I try not to laugh, “I’ll take a soda.”

“Soda it is then,” he says walking it over to me. “Now, on to the best room in the house. Mine.”

I smile at his back as he walks away. His eagerness makes me think of Teagan, which reminds me that I never checked my phone. Pulling it out, I see three different messages from them and a missed call from Goose. The only name I don’t see is Mavericks. Whatever. He can keep being pissed at me if he wants.

Texting Teagan and Lucas back, I stuff the phone in my pocket and follow Goose down the stairs. As we make it to the bottom, I’m thankful that no one is walking behind me, because I stop so fast that we would have gone tumbling down to the floor.

“This is your room?” I ask in awe.

He turns around and smiles at the look on my face, “Yep. This is it.”

“Holy shit,” I say looking around. It spans the entire length of the house. There’s a bed pushed against the far-right wall with a few movie and football posters surrounding it on the walls. On the same side, there’s a door that must lead to the bathroom or something. It’s the left side of the room that shocks me more than anything. There’s a massive flat screen hanging up in the middle of a crazy system of bookshelves that look like they are built into the wall. Every inch of the surface is taken up with some form of entertainment, but as I move closer I see that most of them are DVDs.

“Is it safe to assume that you’re a big fan of movies?” I ask.

His voice comes from directly behind me, “Maybe.” He leans so close that I can feel the heat from him radiating onto my back and when his next words are said, his breath tickles the hair on my neck and sends chill bumps down my arms, “You want to pick or should I?”

Turning slowly until we’re face to face, I look up to him, “Can I trust you?”

The playful smile turns wicked, and before I take my next breath, we are chest to chest as he pushes me back against the media shelves and crushes his lips against mine. My heart beats out of my chest as I open my mouth for him and his tongue sweeps in pure domination. Having a mind of their own, my hands find the rock-hard abs of his stomach. It’s been so long since I had skin to skin contact that I find myself craving it. Slipping my hands underneath his shirt, I let them roam all over his body. When I get to his back, I pull him even closer and he lets out a soft groan into my mouth before he deepens the kiss.

When he finally pulls away, I reach up lightly and kiss him on the column of his throat.

We’re both breathing hard and I can tell that I’m flushed from my face down to my chest.

Using his thumb, Goose brushes a loose piece of hair behind my ear, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting that to happen. I just haven’t been able to get you out of my head this weekend. The way that you stood up to Maverick Friday night, it was like you lit a fire underneath my skin and I haven’t been able to put it out.”

Wow, I never would have guessed that he would be the poet of the quad, or maybe that was just a movie line. With my heart still trying to get back to normal pace, I try to keep my voice from shaking, “It’s ok.”

Narrowing his eyes playfully, he says, “Just ok?”

I shake my head and can’t help the smile that crosses my lips.

He grins in return, “I’ll take that answer.” Reaching behind me, he pulls a movie down from the shelf. “You can trust me,” he says with a wink and I get the feeling that he’s talking about more than just the movie. A pang goes through my chest. I don’t know why these guys are getting to me the way that they are. I never wanted this to happen. After the accident, I swore to myself that I would never allow another person into my heart that wasn’t Gramps. If I could see it as a physical thing, my heart would have stitches running through it right now trying to mend. Only I see those stitches in three different colors and I’m not so sure that’s a good thing.

“Kendall?” Goose says softly from one of the big black chairs in front of the screen.

I walk over to the chair next to him and sit, “Sorry.”

“It’s ok. I’m totally cool with my kisses causing a momentarily lapse of awareness,” he winks over at me. Damn. I’m in so much trouble.

We spend the next few hours watching some of what he calls ‘The Classics.’ It’s funny, because every one of them is actually really good. He may be on to something with this.

“I would love to major in film studies next year,” he tells me during one of the breaks.

I’m confused. His family is rich and he’s going to college. Why wouldn’t he be able to major in whatever he wants, so I ask.

He frowns, “Father doesn’t think that any career that could come from it is good enough for a Michaels.” Shrugging he says, “So I’ll be majoring in Economics with business management as a minor.”

I catch how he says ‘father,’ and not my father. Grabbing his hand, I say, “I’m sorry. At least you get to go to college.”

He looks at our intertwined fingers, “You’re really not planning on going next year?”

“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “If I do, it will just be a few classes over at MCC. I don’t want to leave Gramps alone.”

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