A thousand Boy Kisses

party. Three couches dominated the small room. Ruby and Deacon occupied
one, Judson and some of the football team sprawled over another. But it was the
third couch I couldn’t tear my eyes off. No matter how much I commanded my
feet to move, they refused.
Avery was sitting on the couch, drinking from her cup. An arm was around her
shoulders. Avery was tracing patterns on the hand that was hanging over her
chest.
I knew what that hand felt like.
I knew how it felt to be under the protective shelter of that arm.
And I felt my heart shatter as I moved my eyes to the boy who sat by her side.
As if feeling the heavy weight of my stare, he looked up. His hand stopped,
drink halfway to his mouth.
Tears filled my eyes.
Understanding Rune would have moved on from me was hard enough to bear;
seeing him like this brought another level of pain that I never ever thought was
possible.
“Poppy? Are you okay?” Ruby’s concerned voice suddenly rang across the
room, forcing me to break away from the car crash I was witnessing.
Forcing a smile toward Ruby, I whispered, “Yes. I’m fine.”
Feeling my legs shake from the unwanted attention of everyone in the room, I
managed to step away toward the door. But as I did, I saw Avery turn in toward

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Rune.
Turn in for a kiss.
As the final part of my heart broke, I turned and fled the room before I could
witness that kiss. I pushed into the hallway and ran to the nearest room I could
find. Frantically turning the handle, I pushed through into the semi-darkness of a
laundry room.
I slammed the door and leaned against the washer, unable to keep myself from
bending at the waist and letting the tears pour. I fought back the sickness rising
up my throat as I desperately fought to wipe the offensive image from my head.
During these past two years, I thought I’d endured all facets of pain. But I was
wrong. I was so wrong. Because nothing could compare with the pain of seeing
the one you love in the arms of another.
Nothing could compare to a promised lip’s betrayal of a kiss.
My hands clutched at my stomach. As I fought to drag in a much-needed
breath, the handle of the door began to turn.
“Don’t! Go away—” I had started to shout, but before I could turn and force
the door shut, someone pushed through, slamming the door in their wake.
My heart raced when I realized I was trapped in this room with someone else.
But when I turned around and saw who had entered, all the blood drained from
my face. I staggered back until my back hit the wall beside the washer.
The flames from the fire pit outside illuminated the dark room, enough that I
could clearly see who had invaded my moment of weakness.
The same boy who caused it.
Rune stood before me, beside the closed door. Reaching out, he flipped the
lock. I swallowed as his face turned back to look at me. His jaw was tense and
his blue eyes were firmly fixed on me. His stare was ice-cold.
My mouth went dry. Rune took a step forward, his tall, broad body closing in
on me. The pounding of my heart swept the blood through my veins, its heady
sound roaring in my ears.
As he approached, my eyes lowered to take in Rune’s mostly bare arms: his

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toned, lean muscles were corded by the tension from his balled fists, the black t-
shirt showcased his firm torso, his smooth skin still retained the tint of a fading
tan. In the signature move that always brought me to my knees, he lifted a hand
and raked back his hair from his face.
Swallowing hard, I tried to find the courage to push past him and run away. But
Rune walked forward until there was no way out for me—I was trapped.
My eyes were wide as he focused on me. Rune moved forward until we were
merely inches apart. This close, I could feel the heat radiating from his body.
This close, I could smell his cool scent: the one that always brought me comfort,
the one that took me back to lazy summer days spent in the blossom grove. The
one that brought back, in full Technicolor, that final night, when we’d made
love.
I felt my cheeks flood with heat as he leaned in close. I smelled the faint hint of
tobacco on his clothes, and a trace of spearmint on his warm breath. My fingers
twitched at my sides as I gazed at the stubble on his jaw and chin. I wanted to
reach out and touch it. Truthfully, I yearned to raise my hand and run a finger
over his forehead, down his cheeks, and across his perfect lips.
But as soon as I thought of those lips, the pain sliced back through my heart. I
turned my head, closing my eyes. He had touched Avery with those lips.
He had broken me by giving away those lips—those lips were supposed to be
mine forever.
I felt him close in, until our chests almost brushed. I felt his arms rise over my
head, landing on the wall above me, crowding every inch of my personal space.
And I felt strands of his long hair drift across my cheek.
Rune’s breathing was labored, his minty breath ghosting across my face. I
squeezed my eyes even tighter. I felt him so impossibly close. But it was no use;
of their own accord and ruled by my heart, my eyes slowly opened and I turned
my head, our gazes crashing together.
My breath caught in my throat as the shadows from the fire outside flickered
over his face. Then my breathing seemed to stop entirely when one of his hands

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moved from above my head, traveling hesitantly down to stroke over my hair.
As soon as I felt him take a strand between his fingers, shivers broke out over
my body and butterflies swooped around my stomach.
I sensed he wasn’t faring any better; deep exhales and the tensing of his jaw
were clear giveaways. I stared at his handsome face as he studied mine, both of
us taking in the effects of the last two years: the changes, yet better still, the
aspects that were completely familiar.
Then, when I wasn’t sure my confused heart could take any more, his gentle
touch left the safety of my hair to drift onto my face, and pass feather-light
fingers over the apples of my cheeks. His fingers stopped, as he whispered one
word, one emotionally packed word, in the most painfully desperate, graveled
voice…: “Poppymin.”
A teardrop escaped from my eye and splashed onto his hand.