Page 41 of The Alternate Captain
I’d love to say that it’s a terrible kiss and that I’ll push him away any moment now, but it’s as if we’ve done it a hundred times before. It’s natural and easy. Like we’re in sync with our movements.
His lips are surprisingly soft. He parts them slightly, and I go for it, as if he’s the only oasis in the desert for a million miles. I kiss him, and he kisses me back, and everyone is watching, and I don’t even care.
‘That’s enough’ and ‘get a room’ ring through the air, and when we finally break apart, his eyes lock on mine as if he’s seeing me for the first time, a crooked smile creeping across his face.
Shit. This isn’t good.
“I—”
“Yeah, we’ll have a good season if last year was anything to go by,” Johnny says, jumping back into the conversation like nothing happened. But his arm is still wrapped around me, and I’m convinced he pulls me a little bit closer.
I slide into Johnny’sBMW and buckle my seat belt.
I’ve never been stunned into silence before, but there’s a first time for everything. The sizzling tension spanning between us as we sat together in the beer garden was something I’d never experienced before. Not even with Darren, or that time I kissed the boy I’d been crushing on for years when I was in primary school.
Johnny’s performance was worthy of an Oscar. And when he climbs in the car, I can’t even look at him. That sensation, completely alien to me, floods back as soon as his hand moves close to my leg as he reaches for a cable to plug his phone in.
I pull my own phone out of my bag as a distraction, groaning to myself when I see it’s dead.
“Do you need to charge your phone?” Johnny asks, gesturing to the wire.
“No. It’s fine, thanks,” I say, letting my stubborn attitude win.
And what infuriates me is he says nothing more. It’s like I’ve got the alternate version of Johnny again. Which is the precise moment I realise I’d spent my evening withJohn.
He belts himself up and pushes a few buttons on the console of his car. It’s a warm evening, so he gets the air-conditioning blasting through the vents, and within a few seconds, the cool air whips at my hair and blows his delicious scent around the cabin of his car.
I have to force myself to concentrate on the view outside.
He pulls out of the car park, and we ride in silence. It’s probably a full ten minutes before Johnny speaks again.
“How was the rest of your evening?”
“Fine,” I say, keeping my eyes fixed outside the window.
“I’m glad.”
That’s it.
That’s all he says. And that’s all I say.
And I think he’s going to never utter another word, ever again, but he clears his throat as we turn into my street. He pulls up outside and kills the engine, not making any effort to move. So I don’t either.
“I’m sorry. I am fucking terrible with words, and emotions and—”
“You were a completely different person back there,” I say. “Who are you, Johnny?”
All I get is a stunned silence.
He shifts in his seat. “I’m trying here, Kelly. But I am sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean for it to sound as if I don’t trust you, but honestly, I was panicking because if that comes out—”
He genuinely looks pained. But I’m reminded of how much hehadtrusted me when he told me about his issues finishing during sex.
“I get it, Johnny. I understand what guys are like in groups. Believe it or not, the orchestra isn’t too dissimilar. People talk and news travels fast. But your secret is safe with me. Don’t worry.”
“Thanks.”
His eyes drift over to my seat and his arm flexes, as if he’s about to do something, when the front door of my house opens and light spills out onto the path. Johnny flinches, unbuckles his seat belt, and clambers out of the car.
