Christina Lee - Whisper to Me

But kissing Andrew was like grabbing on to a fizzling sparkler on the Fourth of July. And making out with Kai inspired the awe of the grand fucking finale. Opulent and exhilarating and wholly captivating.

I wasn’t sure if any guy would ever measure up to his charm, his glow, his magnetism. His dirty mouth. And truth be told, I no longer felt like finding out. I was done dealing with my problems this way. It was useless and dumb and only reminded me of what I was missing.

Before I could fully reason my way through my map of emotions, Kai came bursting through the door, shutting it closed behind him.

He stared at me, his breathing broken and heavy in the enclosed space. How someone could be so beautiful and self-possessed was a mystery. His dark hair hanging loose. His tight black pants and gray high-top Vans. It was almost painful to look at him.

“Rachel, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” he said, his voice raw with emotion. “I only made up my mind to go back to Amsterdam today.”

“No problem,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’m not your keeper. You don’t need to run your decisions by me.”

“True. You’re not,” he huffed out. “But you are my friend. My best friend.”

My chest constricted agonizingly. I wanted to reach out to him. To erase this invisible wall between us. Remove my desire to touch him, kiss him, and taste him. I could see it in his eyes, too. Desire, flanked by awkwardness and hurt. Being together had fucked our friendship up royally.

He may have enjoyed our sexual relationship, but we both knew that Kai belonged to no one, least of all to me. So the most I could’ve hoped for was to hear him say those words. His plea for my friendship.

“Yeah, well,” I said finally. “It hasn’t felt that way lately.”

“I know.” He stepped forward, and I held my breath. “It’s been so messed up between us. I’m so sorry. Had I really thought it all through—that I might lose your friendship . . .”

What he wasn’t saying was that he wouldn’t have been intimate with me. And that hurt, even though it did sound mature. Because I’d prayed for him to want me—the whole package—all of me. And now he was leaving again and I wouldn’t be able even to hug him for a long time. Maybe ever. Not like that, anyway.

“I’m not going to apologize for any of it, though. It happened. It is what it is.” His fingers slipped a piece of my hair behind my ear. “But the truth of the matter is that I . . . I miss you, Turtle.”

I shuddered at his touch. His lips moved closer to my ear. “So much.”

I closed my eyes. “Me, too.”

He pulled me into a tight hug, and I reveled in his touch, being tucked inside his warm arms. Smelling his spicy scent, feeling his soft hair against my cheek while his fingers touched my back.

“This summer showed me how much I value your friendship,” he said into my hair. “And I don’t know what’s going to happen when I leave the country and you return to school.”

He tugged me flush against him. “But I don’t want to lose you again, Rachel.”

“We didn’t lose each other,” I said. “I just lost myself. And that’s not going to happen again.”

“It’s not?” He pulled back to look at me. “What about with this new guy, Andy?”

I jabbed him playfully. “You know his name is Andrew. And I don’t know. He’s nice.”

“He seems like a good guy.” He sighed. I wanted him to be angry, possessive, claim me as his own, but that had all been just a pipe dream. “I just want you to be happy.”

I nodded, feeling the sting of tears at the backs of my eyes. If he only knew what would truly make me happy.

“I just want you to promise me, Rachel,” he said.

“Promise you what?”

“That we won’t lose each other . . . ditch each other.”

He was bouncing my words back at me.

“Because no matter how you spin it,” he said, cupping my cheeks. “You left, too.”

He yanked his phone out of his pocket and began typing something. I wondered what in the hell he was doing until I heard my cell buzz with a text.

I pulled it out of my purse and read his message.

Let’s start keeping in touch now. Texts will be the easiest way, Turtle.

I nodded, and then we heard the knob jiggle and backed farther away from each other. As if we’d been caught doing something wrong. When for the first time, the only thing we were doing was being friends.

I lifted up the cheese tray, handed Kai a bottle of wine, and turned toward the door.

Dakota stepped inside the room. “Your mom sent me back here. What the hell is taking you so long?”

“Tone it down, Dakota,” Kai said, strolling around her and out the door.

I just shrugged and handed her another bottle of wine.

I was leaving in the morning and my heart—my soul—was heavy. My bones weary, as if I was just going through the motions. Even though I was looking forward to getting back into the studio, I wasn’t as thrilled about returning to the country where I’d felt so unsure of myself, lost about so many things.

But I told myself it was a step in the right direction—that I hadn’t figured things out all summer long and this would at least help keep me focused on my future.

As soon as I made the decision, the days flew by. I made preparations for travel and finished my shifts at the casino. I wanted to show my parents how sincere I’d been about being responsible and finishing my degree. Maybe I’d come back in a year and feel surer, more settled.

Maybe I’d be over her once and for all.

Since our talk at the Pure grand opening, Rachel and I had been better at the friendship thing, both of us trying to be present with each other, even though there was sadness at hand every time we were in each other’s company—as if we’d never see each other again.

So I got in the habit of texting her short status updates every day, even though we lived in the same condo. I figured that would be our form of communication when we were away, and I wanted to make sure to keep in touch this time around. I wanted to hear about her classes and her life. I wanted to be a part of her world as a friend, and maybe that would make leaving less difficult.

Out of earshot of Dakota, I told her that it was good for her to date again. That she deserved to have a healthy relationship with somebody who appreciated her. Who she could be herself around—and she almost burst into tears at my declaration. But we’d been in front of the television and Dakota could’ve walked back in the room at any moment with our popcorn from the microwave.

I’d said my good-byes tonight to my family and friends during a quick dinner at the casino. It had been quiet, my mother and Rachel equally sullen. As soon as I got to my car, I pulled out my phone to text Rachel. She was supposed to be catching a movie with Shane, Dakota, and Andrew—a blockbuster sneak preview that Dakota had gotten tickets to weeks ago.

I had bowed out, saying that I needed to pack a few more things. Instead, I sent her a final good-bye message with a more positive spin.

Have fun at the movie. If I don’t see you, I’ll text you when I land and let you know I arrived safely. Night, Turtle.

It seemed to take her a while to respond as I zipped my final belonging into my bag.

My father had arranged for a driver to take me to the airport in a few short hours. But now I was like a caged tiger, pacing back and forth, practically waffling on my decision.

I played a couple of tunes on my upright bass, before placing it back in its hard-shell case. Dakota had agreed to keep some of my belongings that were harder to ship at the condo. I would used Johan’s spare bass in the studio, one I’d grown most fond of.

When I still hadn’t heard back from Rachel twenty minutes later, I chucked my phone on the bed and plugged in my headphones. If I was going to get any sleep tonight, no matter how minimal, I need to calm the fuck down.

A few moments later, I was startled by a hard knock at my bedroom door. Who in the hell was in the condo?

When I swung open the door Rachel stood there biting her lip, unsteady on her feet. “What . . . why aren’t you at the movie?”

She looked down at her toes. “Dakota and Shane went, but I asked Andrew to drive me home.”

My heart was lodged painfully in my throat. “Why?”

“I just . . . couldn’t . . .” Fat tears began rolling down her cheeks.

“Hey, come here.” My hand at her hip, I pulled her into me. “I’m going to miss you, too.”

She tucked her head into my chest, her fingers grasping at my shoulders.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I said, kicking the door shut behind her.

“No. I just . . .” Her voice was soft and breathy. “I need you to hold me.”

When her emerald eyes met my midnight blues, a spark flared in my chest so forceful, scorching, overwhelming—that I nearly doubled over from the intensity.

It was as if all the molecules in the room were rearranging themselves to be in our airspace—forcing our fiery energy together.

It was so primal, there was no way anyone would have been able to tear us apart.

In one second flat, I had her wedged against the door. I ran my nose along her jawline as her breaths became ragged.

“Kai.”

My lips skimmed her ear. “What the hell are we doing, Rachel?”

“I don’t know.” She whimpered as my fingers braced the back of her neck beneath her hairline. “It’s already fucked up. I’d rather you left with this kind of memory, wouldn’t you?”

I growled as I lifted her off the floor, and she wrapped her legs around my waist.

My hands traveled beneath her denim skirt to her nearly-bare ass, and my hard-on ground against her stomach.

Dakota was at a movie, we were alone in the apartment, and Rachel was mine—all fucking mine, for these final stolen minutes. I wished that I could freeze this moment and stare into her eyes for all of eternity. I had no idea what the fuck we were doing—just that I needed this, too, even though I’d pay for it later.

Her arms wrapped more securely around my neck, and I leaned forward to kiss the tears from her cheeks, her skin salty, her smell divine.

This was so going to fuck with my brain, but I didn’t even care. The chance to be close to her one last time was like finding water in a fucking desert. I was ravenous for her.

She fisted my hair as her mouth found my ear. “Kiss me, Kai.”

My heart was practically crashing out of my chest as I brushed my mouth against hers, savoring how soft, how smooth her lips felt. Committing them to memory for later, when I was alone with my thoughts, my fears, and my regrets.

She hummed in response, revving me up like a wind-up toy.

I flicked my tongue at the seam of her lips, and she opened up to me. I explored every corner—her teeth, her gums, the roof of her mouth. She moaned when my ring caught on the inside of her lip. “Oh, God.”

Our lips crashed together in a deep and bruising and all-consuming kiss. It felt as if the stars in the entire fucking galaxy had aligned, and I never wanted to let go, to kiss anyone else ever again.

Her mouth tasted like cinnamon and her skin smelled like rice flower and I was drowning in her. Submerged in the ocean of everything that was quintessentially Rachel.

I sank down on my sheets, bringing her with me, and then scooted back against the headboard. I felt so alive having her in my arms, in my bed. Our lips continued searching, barely coming up for air.

Her hands were everywhere, touching every part of me she could reach. She shoved at my shirt, and I gathered the cotton material behind my neck to haul it over my head.

“Much better,” she purred into my ear.

“Your turn.” I lifted off her shirt and then made quick work of unclasping her bra and tugging it from her arms. I hadn’t been sure if I’d ever be able to lay eyes on those pert brown nipples again, and the sight of them made me lose my breath.

Then we were skin to skin, the soft cushions of her breasts flattening against my chest, and I considered telling her that she needed to come to Amsterdam with me.

Live with me. Be with me. Never let me go.

I cupped her face in my hands. “God, what you do to me.”

I nibbled and licked her bottom lip and then swept kisses along her neck. I flicked my tongue against her collarbone and then down the center of her chest. Drawing her soft breast into my mouth, I sucked it into a stiff peak.