And I kiss her.
Sixteen
Blair
Tysoniskissingme.
His lips find mine and it catches me off guard. I was almost expecting him to fight me on what was wrong, but he didn’t. Instead, he put his lips to mine and held me up in a way I didn’t expect.
The kiss is soft but claiming—his lips pressing into me and his hand finding my jawline then resting underneath my chin. Tyson’s lips are full on mine as his tongue lightly sweeps over my bottom lip, looking for more. I open and let him taste me. When the kiss is deeper, he moans into me. That sound. That reaction? It’s everything I’ve dreamt of, held out for, hoped would happen. My lips turn up, smirking into his kiss.
This kiss breaks and chips at some of the stone that feels like it has wrapped around me over the last twenty-four hours.
His other hand finds my cheek before putting both of his hands in my hair, his fingers scratching at my scalp before resting at the nape of my neck. His hands are massive so his thumbs rest on the column of my neck and I can feel the flames start to simmer in my low belly.
I want him. I need him. Maybe this is supposed to be where we ended up all along?
I take a step closer, my chest almost flush with his, as I tip up, his height impressive and so fucking attractive right now. When I go to put a hand in his floppy hair, the elevator stops.
We’re apart like there’s a rope around our waists, pulling as to our separate corner as the doors open. A few of our teammates, luckily with their backs to us, are chatting and waiting for the elevator.
This is my floor—most of the team is spread out between three of them—so I give Tyson one last look before stepping off.
Looks like the guys getting on the elevator are about to go out, so I say, “Have fun tonight,” with a little wave, as I breeze past them down the corridor.
Tyson’s eyes? I can feel them on me. Up until the sound of doors closing. It feels like I’m running in the opposite direction. Instead, I wish I was going to his room, meeting him there, picking up where we left off. But even I know it’s too risky.
I tap the room key to the door and step inside, immediately turning the heat down on the thermostat because my skin is flushed pink, already hot. I sit at the end of the bed, mouth open, trying to think about what just happened. First, I’m on the phone with Jay, telling him about the phone call from our dad, and next, Tyson is kissing me in the elevator. And I was kissing him back.
Walking into the bathroom, I stand in front of the mirror. My cheeks are red; if you look closely you can see the trails from where the tears fell. Putting a finger to my lips, a contrast to what Tyson’s mouth felt like, brings a smile to my lips.
Messy. That’s what I feel like. There’s so much to unpack and it’s like I don’t have the time or space to figure anything out. Including the pain and anger from my brothers when I told them. Tyson kissing me. The realization of how much I wanted him to cross that line.
What does this mean? The thought hits me like a punch to the gut, the kind when you’re playing with your older brothers and they forget you’re their little sister–hitting you a little too hard. Surprising and a bit confusing. Well, I want to tell him about my dad. I almost did but the wordswere trapped. I couldn’t. The only person I’ve told, besides my brothers, was Zack—not even Mags. And that’s because he watched me burst into tears after the game. He was so kind, then told me a lovely story about his own family, blended and complicated but full of love. It was like the universe put that story in front of me on a day where it would sting the most.
I was ugly crying and Zack was convinced I was having a breakdown. The pressure of being on the team catching up with me and it was too much to handle. He had this whole scenario built out, and I had to hand it to him, because that was some significance and elite overthinking. So, to ease his mind, and also buy myself some time for getting on the bus back to the hotel, I told him. I gave him the high level version of the man who left, never called or returned, until he needed something from me.
Zack hugged me, holding on the way an old friend does. He patted my back and swayed me back and forth, telling me how sorry he was. I believed him. And it almost made it hurt worse. I’ve known Zack for a couple of weeks and the way he acted when I told him, the pain filling his eyes and his energy dipping down to meet me—the compassion was overwhelming. It really solidified how awful it was of my dad to do this. At first, it was something only I was dealing with, and then Zack just proved me right. Cathartic and like one of the deepest cuts I’ve felt in my life.
Honestly? I wanted to tell Tyson in the elevator. I wanted to spill my guts and have us go somewhere so I could tell him everything. We’ve never had secrets or anything like this between us, that I know of, and I need the support. My brothers love me and they were obviously on my side, but they have their own pain and rage to sort through. I need someone like Ty.
But then he was kissing me and it felt like my world was flipping… like I was at the top of the rollercoaster and it finally sped down the dip of the track. My hand presses to my belly, remembering the feeling of the drop, the one I’ve wanted for longer than I care to admit.
My phone buzzes.
Tyson
you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that
Me
really?
really
good night, blair
Turning on the water of the shower, I realize something.
