Page 67 of I Knew You Were Trouble

Well, she might blurt it out one of these days. The thought makes me laugh and die inside.

“…three, two…”

My heart thumps one last beat and flops like a dead fish into the pit of my stomach. I take a swig of my drink right before the room shouts, “Happy New Year!”

Poppers explode, champagne glasses clink, and pairs start to kiss in every direction.

I should take my eyes off her; I don’t know if I’ll like what I see when it happens, but I can’t help but watch the hopeful look on her face, the excitement, the nerves. With the confetti falling around her, she’s never looked more beautiful. Who wouldn’t want to kiss that?

Zach meets her eyes, and now is the time to look away, but I’m a damn masochist, and I stare like a fool, half hoping she gets what she wants and half hoping she doesn’t.

Time slows, and my brow furrows the longer it takes for Zach to lean in. Candace’s hopeful grin falters, diminishing by the second. Pain and hurt and confusion all swirl in her expression in quick succession, one right after the other.

Still no kiss.

My blood runs wild under my skin, and the heart I thought was dead jumps to life. Suddenly I’m offended for her. No, beyond that. I’m angry. Angry that this guy won’t do a damn thing. Angry she’s put all this effort in for someone who doesn’t care. Angry he won’t deliver a kiss in the perfect setting, with the perfect girl.

He starts to turn from her. I push off the wall and set my flute down with so much force it tips over. I’m too determined to cross the room to see what damage I’ve done, squeezing through people, my heart thumping in my ears.

She’s going to get a kiss, damn it. She deserves a kiss, even if it comes from me.

My feet thud from hardwood floor to area rug, crunching against confetti and crinkle paper. Candace blinks slowly, her eyes growing a wall of tears as Zach turns completely away from her, heading from the fireplace to the kitchen. She swipes a hand quickly under her eye, rubbing the black mascara to her temple.

“Excuse me,” I grunt, still trying to get across the room. How did she navigate it so quickly? Or has time continued to make no sense?

I trip over the corner of the rug by the fireplace, making a sloppy entrance, but I don’t give a shit. My hands find her cheeks, turn her head, and without a chance to change my mind, I press my lips to hers.

A squeak of surprise escapes her throat, electrifying my nervous system. She tastes like cinnamon, her cheeks soft under my rough skin. The lightest touch zaps through my elbows, her fingers curling into my jacket.

I know I need to stop kissing her; I’ve given more than just a New Year’s kiss. But she’s warm and homey, and I want to dive in and stay. This is her jumping on the back of Gertrude, shooting me in the chest with a paintball, giving out presents to my sisters… all of that times ten. I don’t want to be rid of it. I don’t want to leave.

My thumb runs across her jaw, landing on her chin, coaxing her to open for me, and she does, but I don’t take advantage. I taste her breath on my lips and instantly transport to a euphoric state, a smile curling between us.

Time speeds up as quickly as it slowed earlier, and much too soon, I force myself to part from her, regretting it the second I do.

Her shoulders bob up and down, her hot breath raking over my chin. My own breath was lost somehow.

I swallow hard and take a step back, giving us both the air we need. My mind starts to clear from its haze, and suddenly I’m very much aware I kissed her in a room full of co-workers. Her brows go sky high, her voice under lock and key.

“Uh…” I stutter, reaching a hand behind my head to rub out the sudden awkwardness. “Happy New Year?”

Candace

The clock ticks over to two a.m. and there arestill people in my house.

I grumble and grab an empty pizza box, shuffling through the back door to the trash can outside. I knew this might be a problem—people in my parents’ house way after midnight, but that doesn’t make it any easier for me to handle.

Snow falls in light patterns against the back porch light, and I shiver and rub the goosebumps out of my upper arms. I got kissed tonight, just like I wanted. It was world-changing and earth-shaking, and all the other adjectives used to describe an epic first kiss. All the romantic paintings in the world didn’t prepare me for it, and it’s been two hours and my legs are still shaking, my brain a pile of mush.

And it came from Pete.

Pete.

I touch my bottom lip, trapping a few snowflakes in the process. Is it ever going to stop tingling?

I barely noticed when Zach left. He gave me a hug that felt like a slight breeze compared to the hurricane of Pete’s earlier embrace in the bathroom. Did I get love so wrong? It wouldn’t surprise me if I had; I’m wrong about a lot of things. Zach’s appeal is slowly disappearing into a wisp of red smoke, joining the other wisps of crushes I’ve had.

His still burns brightly, but not for the reason I thought. It’s like he’s the one who painted a bright arrow pointing to the guy standing next to me.

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