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Fucking snow.
“Kie, the weather channel says-“ Pope had began, before she stubbornly cut him off. The weather channel was wrong a lot, okay.
“Maybe just wait until next time?” John B had tried.
“Do you see the fucking sky Kiara? My nipples are freezing through my shirt,” JJ had bitched, making her skin tingle and something flare inside of her. They’d hardly spoken in two weeks and now he wanted to talk to her? She’d show him.
At least, she would’ve shown him, if Mother Nature didn’t have some bad, nasty karma to toss her way. It hardly ever snowed in the Outer Banks, she’d argued. Even if it started she’d have time to get home before the roads got bad. The Kildare sanctuary Christmas drive raised hundreds of dollars for marine life, and they needed all the volunteers they could get. No need in staying home and being a bump on a log like the boys when she could make a difference.
Well, she was fucking wrong, and now her pride was paying the price.
The rapidly icing roads on her way home had made her tense and nervous, and before she knew it she’d slid into a snow bank. There had no injuries except for her self-respect and the ability of her car to reverse. So there she’d sat, stuck and freezing her ass off for what felt like hours.
Her parents thought she was staying over all day at the Chateau for Sarah’s Christmas Eve get together, which they didn’t approve of, but they’d approve of her driving in a snowstorm significantly less. Kiara had had no choice but to call John B and beg for help.
“I’ll be right there,” he’d assured her, even though John B totally wasn’t her first choice for assistance with anything to do with cars or mechanics. She herself was number one, of course, but her second option… Speaking to him was stifling. All she could picture was him panting above her, her mind spinning with pleasure until it had abruptly spun into what a bad idea it all was with the light of the next morning.
A one night stand with her best friend. Officially her biggest dumbass move of all time.
Second, perhaps, to sneaking out like a coward before he woke up. (He’d been awake. She knew he had. He’d stiffened beside her, but his eyes had remained blessedly closed, pretending for both of their sakes).
Kiara was jolted out of her thoughts by the familiar honking of the Twinkie’s horn. John B laid on it over and over again, and she slung her door open. The frosty air outside hit her face like a whip.
“I got it,” she snapped, probably a little too forcefully considering how much of an inconvenience this was for him.
But her gaze followed the side of the Twinkie up a flannel-clad arm to hair that was too blonde and eyes the color of seawater on a clear summer day. Her heart dropped.
“Look at that,” JJ said, looking around through the window in mock surprise. “It fucking snowed.”
“Where’s John B?” she demanded.
“Conned into helping Sarah finish decorating.” He didn’t seem to pay much mind to her tone. He crawled out of the Twinkie and wandered around her to examine her car, in typical man fashion. He let out a low whistle.
Kiara crossed her arms. “No damage. I checked.”
“You are like, so lucky, dude,” he said, head craning over the front, and something about his use of the word dude stung.
“Alright, well, I’m freezing my ass off, so.”
JJ made no move to take her keys or look at her car further. Instead, he made his way back to the driver’s side of the Twinkie. Seeing her expression, he shrugged. “We’ll have to get it in the morning when stuff melts. I’ve been specifically instructed to get you to John B’s on time.”
Kiara slammed the Twinkie’s door with a little more force than necessary on her way in, and she knew she was being ridiculous. JJ had driven all the way out here in dangerous road conditions. She knew she should be grateful, and somewhere down deep, she was, but the rushing feeling of forbidding was clogging her throat, draining her of her other senses.
They hadn’t been alone since that night two weeks ago. They’d had one too many drinks and several too many laughs and suddenly they’d been stumbling back to the Chateau, but ever since then, their friends being home on holiday break from college had provided them with the perfect buffer. She didn’t have a fucking clue what they’d do when everyone returned to their respective corners, leaving her and JJ alone on the island to wreak havoc.
There was a well-worn marina sweatshirt left pointedly on the seat beside her. Kiara glared at it, wishing she wasn’t imaging being engulfed by the warm fleece. Wishing she wasn’t craving JJ’s scent of salt and oil and the cheap cologne he’d probably swiped from Wal-Mart even more so than usual. She’d been freezing for what felt like forever, after all.
She tugged the sweatshirt over her head, and she refused to glance over and see JJ’s lips curling into a knowing smirk.
“If my parents see my car on the side of the road, we’re dead,” Kiara said, more to fill the suffocating silence than because she was really worried about it.
At least, the silence was suffocating on her end. She couldn’t decided if it pissed her off or relieved her that aside from avoiding being alone with her, JJ was acting… normal. Way more normal than the situation called for.
Right? It was a big deal. Sex wasn’t a big deal, but sex between Kiara and JJ?
Monumental. At least, it had been for her. Her world was knocked off its axis, the safe zone she always treaded with him blown to smithereens.
“Actually, you’re dead,” JJ argued, pulling back out into the road. “I’m totally innocent.”
Her gaze lingered on his fingers for a beat too long, where they tensed under his rings to turn the wheel. Right.
Kiara hated to admit that JJ was a much more proficient icy weather driver than she was. He drove at half his normal speed, but he had all the confidence he usually did and none of the brake slamming that she had fallen into. There were, of course, next to no other cars on the road, because the rest of the island had gone into apocalyptic mode at the first fall of a snowflake.
“Sarah’s not still wanting to do the Christmas party.” Kiara phrased it like a question.
At that, JJ did take his eyes off the road to shoot her an I hope you’re kidding look.
“Of course she is,” she muttered.
Kiara turned the dial on the junky old radio up, and Feliz Navidad blared over the speakers. JJ beat his thumbs along to the beat, and the music accomplished none of the drowning out she wanted it to. She turned it back down.
A pause, and then JJ turned it back up. She scowled. “I was listening to that,” he lied.
There was another stretch of non-conversation, and then JJ was signaling to turn into the convenient store nearest to John B’s. The store had about two working light bulbs and more dust available than candy, but it was safe from kooks. They’d made it a frequent stomping ground over the years.
Kiara was not surprised to see the owner had trooped out even in the horrid conditions. He had a beat up, four-wheel drive pick up truck that could probably make it through an avalanche, and he’d do just about anything for a few dollars.
She was, however, surprised about prolonging their miserable journey. JJ must have noticed her confusion, because he said, “Sarah needs me to pick up some stuff.”
“Besides me?”
His dimple flashed, and her stomach clenched painfully. “Chips, beer.”
“Oh.” Kiara crossed her arms, not removing her seatbelt or planning on braving the cold again until she had to. Hardly thinking, she added, “I probably shouldn’t have any.”
And she really meant that she’d had a shit day, but she realized as soon as she said it that JJ’s mind would also jump straight to what they’d been avoiding: the last time they’d gotten tipsy.
For the first time, JJ’s casual composure faltered. He froze with his body halfway out of the Twinkie, letting the cold waft in and bite at her skin. “Right. See you in a sec.”
He covered it with a lazy grin so fast she could’ve imagined the entire thing. Finally, he closed the door, relieving her from both the temperature and his proximity.
Kiara had never felt like a bigger bitch.
She watched him swing into the store, watched as his arm waved and his head bobbed when he greeted the owner. It was still bizarre to see any of them purchasing alcohol at a legal drinking age, especially JJ, who’d been the last to turn twenty-one earlier that spring.
The seconds stretched on. She scrolled through her Instagram, quickly remembered why she rarely opened the app more than once a day, and shut it off just as quickly.
She needed to get out of this car, but she needed something to do with her hands even more urgently.
Her attention landed on JJ’s backpack, splayed open at her feet. His lighter was thrown halfway under the seat cushion on the opposite side of the van, and his favorite red hat was tossed on top of the bag.
Boys, she thought, habitually gathering the discarded items and further opening the zipper so she could stuff them inside. If he lost either of those things he’d go ballistic.
The inside of his backpack was an abomination; chewing gum rappers and even what looked like a half eaten granola bar were strewn haphazardly inside. When the driver’s side door popped open, her hands were still halfway inside.
“Get what you need?” she asked, hardly paying attention to what she was asking. JJ’s things being a disaster was expected, familiar ground that she could handle.
What she didn’t expect was JJ’s reaction.
“Hey,” he cried, lunging across the seat to yank the bag away from her. His voice was breathy, and she must have shot him an incredulous look, because he added, “You can’t snoop in there.”
Kiara spent most of her time entirely too into the boys’ business, so his behavior closelined her. “Geez, sorry. I was just cleaning up your mess.”
He muttered something indistinguishable under his breath, looking anywhere but at her. The paper bag he’d carried out of the story rustled in his hands, and then something was falling in her lap. Her favorite green tea stared back at her.
She blinked down at it, and the smiling logo mocked her. “…Thanks.”
He ducked his head into his backpack once more, and she caught the reddening tips of his ears. JJ didn’t do flustered. He closed the zipper with an air of finality.
A horrible thought struck her. JJ had matured a lot in the past couple of years, but she hadn’t been keeping her eye on him since their encounter. A disturbed JJ in any way was always a potential recipe for disaster.
She settled him with a look. “JJ, I swear to God, if you’ve got drugs in there—“
“Jesus, your present’s in there, okay?”
He flung the backpack very unsafely under his feet. His eyes avoided hers like the plague, and his free hand pushed his hair off his forehead. The engine roared back to life.
“Oh,” Kiara said, stupidly. And because she knew having hard drugs was a particularly shitty thing to accuse him of, if not totally unwarranted, she added, “Sorry.”
“Yeah,” JJ muttered, still not looking at her. He put the van into drive, and Kiara worked her lip, glancing between the snowy trees flashing by and the green tea still settled in her lap. Her chest felt very heavy.
JJ had a present for her hidden in his bag. An actual present.
JJ Maybank was not a thoughtful gift giver, nor really a gift giver, period. It wasn’t a knock against him; he just wasn’t. He grumbled through hanging up Christmas decorations (Even though she knew he secretly admired them later) and handed blunts out to everyone when they got together for their cheap, homemade gift exchanges. Then, he proceeded to complain about how fucking bleak January and February were to get through. It was an endless cycle.
The silence was decidedly tense on both ends this time.
She caught a flash of JJ’s throat bobbing when she dared sneak a peek at him, and then he was blurting, “Look. It doesn’t have to be weird. Right?"
Her heart pounded in her chest. They were really doing this. Driving down the road to John B’s house with some random Christmas song jingling in the background and a present JJ had gone out and selected specifically for her hidden underneath his feet, they were really doing this.
“It doesn’t,” she echoed, and she wasn’t sure if it came across an agreement, a question, or a challenge.
Kiara wanted to agree for the sake of their friendship, but she also wanted to snap at him that yes, actually things had changed, whether he wanted to acknowledge that or not. Two weeks ago he’d been looking up at her from under the sheets, eyes so dark she could hardly make them out while he whispered, “You’re fucking beautiful, Kiara.” He hadn’t sounded all that intoxicated at that moment.
And now he wanted to confirm that everything was the same?
“No,” he pressed, and there must have been fire in her eyes. He did a double take at her, and his eyebrows were arched in what might’ve finally, blessedly been frustration. “Isn’t that what you want?”
“I guess.” No.
He gestured wildly, arm flinging around the back of her seat, and Kiara glared at the lack of two hands on the wheel in this weather. He didn’t seem to care. “Kie, I’m sorry, okay?”
Sorry. JJ hardly ever used that word without a sarcastic lilt to his voice, but his eyes were wide and genuine.
“I know it was like, a lot—I….”
Kiara had never seen him struggle for words this way, and for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t sure what exactly he was trying to say. Whether he regretted sleeping with her, or how it happened, or whether his normal façade had finally crumbled and left him itching to just talk about it.
Kiara didn’t regret it. Not really. She regretted the way things were between them now, but something had clicked into place from the moment they’d collided—like hitting the sweet spot on a perfect wave, or the hit of that first, deep inhale when she was smoking after a particularly draining day, but even better.
But if the way they were was anyone’s fault, it was hers. Wasn’t it?
“I screwed up, okay,” she admitted, her ears and the back of her neck flushing with shame or embarrassment or both.
The scar swerved, and JJ jerked the wheel a little too dangerously to avoid plowing into an icy ditch rather like the one her car was stuck in. His eyes kept bouncing between her and the road.
“Pull over,” Kiara ordered. This wasn’t a conversation to be had while he was driving, and it sure as hell wasn’t worth them getting into a wreck over it. But it had to be had, immediately.
“Kie—“
“JJ, pull over right now.”
He clenched the wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white, but he allowed the van to safely drift into an abandoned drive they’d have no trouble backing out of.
Snow drifted lazily down from the sky, hitting the windshield and sucking them into their own universe. A private winter wonderland that was more like a hell, right at this very moment.
She allowed herself to count exactly ten flakes before she turned her body to face JJ. He still wasn’t looking at her, his attention trained on some point out the window. Maybe he would rather count snowflakes than face her, too. She wouldn’t have known anything was wrong if his jaw wasn’t clenched, as tightly as she’d ever seen it.
Kiara cupped her elbow with her opposite hand, suddenly feeling like a spotlight was shining right into her eyes.
“Sorry I left,” she muttered, studying the seams on her jeans.
JJ wasn’t prepared for that. He glanced at her, and then looked away again just as quickly. “S’okay. I get it.”
Neither of them was very good with words, or dealing with the complex emotions that lead to bullshit like this. The very reason Kiara enjoyed the company of the boys in the first place was coming back to bite her in the ass, hard.
She had always been good at comforting touches, though.
Kiara’s fingers shook, but she reached her hand over the console to squeeze his. He froze, and the little flutter in her stomach reminded her that this was the first time they’d touched since that morning, when their legs had been intertwined from sleep.
His hand flexed, and then gradually relaxed under hers, like he was slowly realizing she wasn’t going to pull away.
“I’m not sure you do,” she said.
JJ sniffed, and he looked entirely too good with the navy checked flannel setting off his eyes. He seemed just as at home with the snow behind him as he did shirtless on the beach.
He must have realized it was his turn to say something, because he visibly began struggling for words. “Look. We can just like, forget it, if you want. I know I’m not- you know.”
Kiara’s brows pinched together in a frown. “You’re not what?”
“Your type, I guess.”
If the situation had been less nerve wracking, Kiara wouldn’t have been able to hold back a snort of incredulous laughter. “You’re not my type?”
“Yeah. You know.” JJ fidgeted in his seat, shooting her an unimpressed look, like he couldn’t believe she was making him say it.
“Bro, I had a few beers, not mind control.”
“Well… You’re hot. I’m hot.”
He gestured between them, like whatever had just come out of his mouth was supposed to make sense. She thought there was some vague implication that she’d just used him as a scratching post.
She had never seen him so fucking awkward. She squeezed his hand again, and his head shot down to look at her skin over his, like he’d forgotten about it.
Kiara tried to put together what she wanted to say. That she’d freaked the hell out when she’d cracked open her eyes and his arm slung lazily around her had felt like home. That she’d never been in real a relationship before, he sure as hell hadn’t, and being each other’s test run was fucking terrifying. That what they had was so natural, so easy, and she was close to being ready to putting it all at risk for a taste of more.
“So,” she began. “I’ve never done this before, and I kind of freaked.”
“Slept with your best friend? Me either.” JJ let out a little breath of amusement, even though she didn’t think he thought it was all that funny. His eyes were dull with dread, like he wasn’t expecting this to end well.
Yeah. Feelings. Words. Time to use them.
“Slept with someone I really care about,” Kiara corrected. She swallowed, realizing maybe that wasn’t totally getting the point across. “Someone I like.”
JJ’s gaze finally met hers, and she was totally better with actions than words, so she leaned forward, ghosting her lips across his. He little out a little stuttering breath against her, and then she was pulling back, trying desperately to read his reaction
“Like, like,” he repeated, a little dazed. His hand held hers more tightly, and she didn’t think he realized his thumb was stroking hers. She suppressed a shiver.
“Yeah,” Kiara said, all false confidence and with a little challenge. “Am I… Am I your type?”
He answered her by threading his fingers into the curls at the nape of her neck and yanking her mouth back in to meet his. “Duh,” he mumbled against her mouth, and she could tell that he was grinning. Kiara nearly sagged against him with relief.
The first thing she realized was that the last time hadn’t been a fluke. Kissing him was better than the alcohol, made her tingle all the way down to the tips of her toes more completely than any buzz she had ever known.
The second was that there were definitely, positively going to be late for their Christmas Eve get together if they didn’t stop right then. They might also possibly be arrested for indecent exposure on the side of the road, she thought, as his hand slid down her back to unhook her seatbelt.
Her fingers had made their way under his flannel and her sweatshirt (his sweatshirt) had ridden up above her bellybutton by the time she summoned the willpower to pull away.
“We’re gonna be late.”
JJ froze for a fraction of a second when she initially pulled away, but as soon as the words left her mouth, he descended on her jaw.
“So what.” He smacked a trail of hot kisses all the way to the base of her earlobe, and his hot breath on her neck made her shiver. He lingered, and she knew he hadn’t missed her reaction.
“Sarah will never shut up,” Kiara panted. She clenched her fists at her sides. “The sooner we go the sooner we get it over with.”
JJ planted a kiss on the hollow of her throat, and she had to resist the urge to tell him to screw the Christmas get together.
“Fine,” he said, breathy and pouty. His cheeks were flushed, more transparent than they were in the summer months, and his pupils were blown so wide she could hardly make out the blue around the edges of his iris.
Kiara clicked her seatbelt into place. She shot JJ a warning look as she did so, even though it was really meant more as a deterrent for herself than for him.
His hand rested on her thigh as he pulled back into to road, and she let her fingers cover his. It made sense, she thought, that JJ was so touchy. His hands had somehow seemed everywhere at once that night, and she was eager to let them burn familiar paths by heart on her skin.
But she took in JJ’s dimpled grin and kiss-ruffled hair and knew there would be plenty of time for that later. The thought made her stomach bounce with butterflies like she was thirteen years old again.
They were doing this.
Sure, they hadn’t given an exact definition for what this was, but they were new at this. What she did know was they were best friends who liked each other and wanted to keep kissing for the near future. What was a relationship, really, if not that?
They made it exactly four and a half minutes before JJ swerved the Twinkie to the side of the road again, and it was forty-five minutes before they finally came knocking into the driveway at the Chateau, cheeks hot for an entirely different reason.
Yeah, Kiara was perfectly content with making Sarah wait. She finger combed her hair in the rearview mirror before plopping out into the snow, but if the wink JJ shot her was any indication, it didn't help much.
They reached the porch, their bag of refreshments wrapped up in one arm, and she felt JJ hesitate next to her. His eyes drilled holes into the shiny new yin yang pendant hanging below her beaded necklaces (She’d worn it proudly for exactly ten minutes), and she knew he was trying to calculate what she wanted him to do next. How she wanted him to act in front of the others.
Kiara didn’t have to consider for long. A soft smile blossomed on her lips, and she took a step closer to him, sliding her fingers down his forearm and straight into his free hand.
His gaze froze on their hands, and an overwhelming fondness swam in Kiara. Slowly, his fingers twitched to entwine with hers, and her grin grew.
“Come on,” she urged, nodding towards the door.
Loud Christmas music blasted from someone’s cellphone speaker inside. If Kiara was guessing, that would be Wheezie Cameron’s doing. What with her psychopathic father and stepmother, she didn’t have a long list of people to celebrate the holidays with. They’d begun inviting her to their pogue get-togethers a couple of years before, along with Sarah.
The volume of the chatter dropped and then abruptly increased at the sound of their arrival. “Hey, they’re here,” John B’s voice exclaimed.
“Finally-“ Sarah stopped dead in her tracks, eyes going straight to their hands. JJ shifted nervously next to her, and Kiara braced herself. She gave his fingers another squeeze and lifted her chin.
Sarah’s lips (Painted red for Christmas) dropped open and closed again. They settled on open, and for one, terrifying moment, Kiara thought she might just scream.
Wheezie’s head poked above the top of the couch, obviously curious as to what had her sister so quiet. The crease between her brows fell away to gremlin-like glee.
“Do y’all have the beer or what?” John B called obliviously, from somewhere in the kitchen.
“Oh my god,” Sarah let out. The shock on her face slowly transformed into a grin to rival Wheezie’s. “I didn’t even need all the mistletoe.”
“Thank fuck,” Wheezie let out, and Sarah’s hand shot to cover her little sister’s mouth, as if that would prevent any more explicatives from coming out. She abandoned the effort just as quickly to cup her own face in excitement.
“About time, too,” Pope muttered, not even looking up from his phone. There was a hardly detectable upturn to the corner of his lips.
About time indeed.