Dyl enters first, his body hunched, ready to spring back should the expected ax murderer leap forth. But the shed is still, and his body relaxes, his posture reverting back to its usual confident semi-slouch. His hand fumbles around on the doorframe and then he grins, his white teeth glowing in the shadowy murk.
He flicks his finger upward and orange light floods the shed.
“Quick, get in before anyone sees you.”
I step inside and he swings the door closed behind me. Inside, it’s a small square room, with a dining table, two chairs, and an empty kitchen counter with a dirty sink loaded with dishes. A moth-eaten mattress and a balled-up blanket are pressed against one corner. The counter is moldy, and the taps are covered in flaky brown rust.
Dyl flicks the lights off.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
He grins. “It’s sexier this way.”
I step toward the door and yank it open. His eyebrows furrow and he blocks my path with one hand.
“Get out of my way,” I say.
“What?”
“I said get out of my way.”
His arm remains on the door. “Dude, calm down. I meant it was sexier in the way, like, scary is sexy. That sort of thing. What did you think I was saying?”
I let go of the door handle and face him. For the first time, I realize I’m taller than him, and I stare right at the tip of his nose, just under his neatly trimmed eyebrows. “I don’t know why you brought me here, that’s what. And why you treat me the way you do. Because, Dyl, you’re treating me like I’m an idiot and I’m just not. I know the game we’re playing. I do. And you act like we aren’t competitors and you show me cool things but when does it stop? And why did you even start it? Why did you bring me here? And why did you say you wanted to make it sexier for us alone in a small room?”
He’s staring at the floor.
I step toward him. “Why did you bring me here, huh? You’re such a big fan of the truth, so why don’t you tell me? What are you afraid of?”
He looks to his left. “I brought you here to kiss you.”
“Are you joking?”
He sucks on his bottom lip and faces me. He looks like he’s in pain.
“It’s not like that, it’s …” He runs a hand through his hair and spins away. Once he completes his little circle he steps toward me. “I’m going to kiss Juliet tomorrow. And I need practice. I thought you’d understand because you need practice too. I brought you here because no one in town will see us and it seemed like a good idea. I thought we could kiss each other like teenage girls do in sitcoms to prepare for the real thing. I’m sorry if that’s weird.”
I clench my hands and keep looking him in the eye. Prepare for the real thing? Oh God, he doesn’t even know how much of a real thing this is for me. The enormous reality of this is why kissing him isn’t an option at all. I want to do it, sure, but I never can. It’d be like willingly putting myself at the top of a very slippery slope, with massive spikes covered in razor wire at the bottom.
“Why would I want you to be good at kissing her?” I say, more to myself than to him. If I say rational words, maybe I can force myself to act rationally. “Did you even think for a second that you not being good at kissing Juliet would be a good thing for me? We’re competitors, Dyl. Above everything.” I gesture at the space between us. “Above all of this, that’s our relationship. Man, I shouldn’t have to say these things to you. I really shouldn’t. But you and I, we’re not anything close to friends.”
“You’re my only friend.”
“Don’t lie. Not now. What makes you think I’d want to help you do this, Dyl? Do I look suicidal to you?”
He grabs my shoulders. I shake them off, so he tucks his hands into his pockets.
“I was dumb, okay, and I was lying. I brought you here to kiss you because I want to kiss you, all right? I want to kiss you because I want to kiss someone, just once, because I want to do it. And as soon as one of us starts dating Juliet it’ll be cheating and I know neither of us will do that. But we’re not hers yet. We’re free men. And I, well, I feel something when I’m around you. I don’t understand it and I don’t want to, but there’s something about you that creates this urge within me. Like, whenever I’m around you I can’t help but focus on your mouth, and I find myself imagining what your lips would feel like against mine. So I want to kiss you, all right? It’s embarrassing and weird, but I want to kiss you.”
I stare at him. He’s just like me, I think. He wants to kiss me as much as I want to kiss him. His back is bent slightly, and his thin body is shaking. He’s looking at me with wide eyes, like whatever I decide to do next is going to be the most important thing that has ever happened on earth.
Then again, it could be a trick. It could be. It probably is.
“I know this is a trick,” I say. “But I don’t care. I want what you want too. One real kiss. So let’s do it.”
“Thank God.”
I step forward and force him backward so that his back is against the wall. Surprise is in his eyes, so I grin, then lean forward and press my lips to his. His stubble is prickly but his lips are soft, oh eff are they soft. He pauses, and I step even closer so that our foreheads and chests touch. We’re both gulping down air. Damn, his skin is warm even through the shirt. His hands move up and fumble with the hem of my shirt. What’s he doing? I feel his hands slide under my shirt, where they move across my stomach to my hips. Every part of me that he’s touching feels unbelievably amazing. Like, who knew palm-to-hip contact would be this frigging hot? But it totally is.
“Sorry,” he says, and his hands slide out from under my shirt. “I got a bit carried away.”
“I’m not complaining, man.”
“So I can keep going?”
I look into his eyes and nod vigorously.
He grins. “Sweet.”
He leans forward and kisses me again, stronger this time, forcing me back a step. He’s no longer leaning against the wall, but now his entire body is pressed against mine. His hands go under my shirt again, higher than they did before, up to my ribs. I raise my hands and he pulls my shirt over my head. I get only a second to breathe before he’s kissing me again.
I should stop. No, I need to stop.
I ignore my thoughts and start unbuttoning his shirt, revealing his chest. Once all the buttons are undone he grins, which melts me, then he shrugs the shirt off his shoulders and throws it away.
I look at him for a second, and he just looks at me.
“Sweet,” he says again, then he grabs me by the back of my neck and brings my lips to his.
It feels freaking incredible. He tastes sugary, and he smells like cologne, and his body keeps brushing against mine, which makes me want more of him. More contact. More of everything, really.
Oh my God. This is Dyl! My Dyl. And I’m kissing him!
He starts kissing my neck and I chuckle.
He pulls his head back and his eyebrows pinch together. “Am I doing something wrong?”
“No, it’s just, you definitely don’t need practice.”
“Neither do you.”
“So should we stop?”
“Do you want to?”
I shake my head.
“So why should we?”
There are a million reasons to stop.
I ignore them all and kiss him.
CHAPTER