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I laugh, awkwardly this time, which I suppose is better than psychotic. My lips feel dry and chapped, so I slick them with my tongue.
Marty zones in on the fleeting gesture, then pulls himself to his feet. He holds out a hand to me. “My lady,” he says with formal whimsy.
I beg my knees not to tremble as I rise to a stand. They obey, mostly, but I do nearly trip on some wood chips as I step forward. “I’ve, um…” I swallow hard, glancing around the circle before meeting his gaze. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”
“I know.”
“You know?”
Marty nods. “I’m honored to be your first.”
I lick my lips again, then nibble the bottom. Marty is cute and sweet—and young. He looks so young, just a boy, a kid…and that’s because he is.
I’m not sure why the thought filters through my mind.
I’m young, too. We’re the same age.
Tucking my long, heavy ribbons of hair behind my ears, my cheeks pinken even further when Marty reaches out to graze a finger along my jaw. “Ready?” he asks.
I’m grateful that he asks, that he doesn’t just take. I nod.
“Okay.” He smiles, biting at his own lip before leaning in.
A breath catches in my throat, and then his lips meet mine. Warm, wet lips. They just sort of hover at first, testing the waters, sampling a taste. Then he presses into me more, his breath hot against my mouth. I’m not sure what to do, but I part my lips on instinct and wait, wait for him to do more, to make another move.
He does.
Marty pushes his tongue into my mouth as his arm lifts, wrapping around my lower back, while his opposite hand cups my cheek. I hear him groan when our tongues collide. I feel something hard pressing into my lower abdomen when our bodies meld. My back arches, and he kisses me harder, swirling his tongue inside my mouth, tangling it with mine as my hands clutch the front of his shirt for steadiness.
My own tongue moves, trying to find rhythm. Trying to meet his sloppy thrusts.
And then it ends abruptly.
A hand curls around my upper arm, lurching me backward, yanking me away from Marty. My feet stumble, and I nearly collapse into the hard frame flush behind me. I crane my neck up, my eyes widening when they meet with Brant’s.
Crap.
He stares down at me, his jaw clenching with quiet anger, his fingers still wrapped around my arm. “Party’s over.”
The shock dissipates, quickly replaced by outrage and embarrassment. I tug my arm free. “What the hell, Brant?” My lips feel bee-stung, my cheeks flaming hot. Glancing around at my friends, everyone is rising to their feet, collecting their things, refusing to make eye contact, while Marty smiles sheepishly and trudges away through the grass, leaving me alone with my brother. I cross my arms, my defenses flaring. “I can’t believe you did that.”
“Are you kidding? You were sucking face with some kid I’ve never even met before. You’re just a child, June.”
“I am not a child. I’m a teenager. I’m about to start high school!”
He swipes a hand through his untamed hair. It’s shaggy, spilling over his ears and forehead. “I’m just trying to protect you. I don’t even know him.”
“You don’t have to know him,” I spit back. My temper escalates as I take a step closer. “You embarrassed me. You embarrassed me in front of all my friends, including my crush.”
His eyes close briefly, as if he’s reining in his own emotions. “Let’s go inside.”
Brant reaches for me, but I pull back sharply. “Don’t touch me,” I seethe. “I hate you, Brant. I truly hate you.”
He flinches, his hazel eyes flaring with subtle turmoil.
Guilt coils around me instantly.
Brant looks away, massaging the nape of his neck as he whispers softly, “Don’t say that.” He shakes his head a little, then repeats it. “Don’t say that, Junebug.”
