Page 16 of The Last Kind of Kiss
A growl curdles in Bristol’s chest. “Really?”
Glifford shrugs, unfazed. “Believe what you want. But me and…”
“Lila,” I whisper to him.
“ButLilaand I are in love with each other,” he insists, catching me off guard when he plants a rather sticky kiss to my forehead. It takes every ounce of my willpower not to shudder, and anxiety begins to close in on me.
Bristol examines us closely, searching for a lie-ending fault in our façade. He pauses for a few seconds—subjecting all of us to unbearable silence—and then he breaks the tension with the worst thing he could possibly say. “Prove it,” he orders.
I sputter, feeling sweat break out over every inch of my exposed skin, my heart rabbiting against my ribs. “Prove it?”
“If you two aresoin love, you’ll have no trouble proving it.”
Fuck. He’s driven me into a corner, and either I surrender and admit everything was a lie, or I swap spit with a complete rando. Glifford and I look at each other, both internally panicking, and I’m about to swallow my pride when Glifford grabs me, dips me, and smashes his lips onto mine.
Everything happens so quickly that I’m not even allotted time to react appropriately, and I squeeze my eyes shut, keeping my mouth in an unbreachable line. It’s not a bad kiss by any means, but it’s not a butterfly-inducing kiss that makes my brain short-circuit and my tongue go numb.
When we pull away from each other, I’m met by Bristol’s withering gaze, his upper body strife with tension, a muscle in his jaw jutting out prominently. He’s practically shaking with wrath, a second away from making a scene, and I’ve never been more afraid in my life. I’m playing with fire right now, and the flame I’ve been stoking is about to swallow me in a blistering blaze.
I foolishly think I’m in the clear when Bristol shouts at the top of his lungs.
“What the ever-loving fuck?”
6
LIGHTS, CAMERAS, CONFESSIONS!
BRISTOL
Ipull Lila away from that half-brained piece of horse shit, yanking her onto the outskirts of the ballroom and away from the prying eyes that just witnessed my unmanly shriek. She’s lying. She has to be. For fuck’s sake, they didn’t even know each other’s names. And yet, she let this total stranger kiss her just to prove a point.
Gliffordis lucky we’re in public and physical assault is frowned upon. I want to punch him in his stupid face. I want to show him what happens when he makes a move onmygirl.
Lila wrests her wrist away from me, upper lip curled back in a snarl and acrylics unsheathed. “We were in the middle of something.”
“Yeah, I saw every disgusting second of it,” I bite back, needing to bleach my eyes as soon as possible before that image tattoos itself onto my brain.
“You can’t pretend like you care about me,” she snaps, sending shock waves of guilt through my body, holding my indignation hostage and transforming it into gradual acquiescence.
My voice softens, no longer ruled by an envious iron fist. “I’mnot pretending,” I backtrack, ignoring just how badly her words sting.
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“Why’d you let him kiss you, Lila?”
“Because he’s my boyfriend.”
I never knew four words could kill me. I’m a pathetic fucking mess. How is it possible for this girl to be both my salvation and ruination?
Knowing that this will be a battle I’ll lose, I relinquish any offensive strategy and step into her, forcing her back against the wall. My hooded eyes sweep over the rise and fall of her chest, one arm bracketing her side, and one hand ghosting along the hinge of her jaw. We’re mere inches apart, too close for comfort, one bad decision away from complicating our relationship even more. I tip her chin up with my finger, relishing the way she obeys the sleight of my hand, and the subarctic blue of her eyes no longer smolder with rage—they burn with a longing I never thought I’d see again.
“No, he’s not,” I whisper, the three syllables mangling in my throat.
Lila doesn’t flinch away from me. She allows my touch to venture over her body, raising goose bumps in its wake, her nervous breath hurtling out of her in a rocky fumble.
Her gaze never lowers from mine, not even when my thumb brushes over her bottom lip. “How can you be so sure?” she asks.
“Because if he really was your boyfriend, you wouldn’t let me get this close.”
