Only Rivals, page 11
As if he senses I’m growing weak, as if he sees the tears welling in my eyes, he steps to me.
“I knew you could make him feel better because you always made me feel better.” His voice rises, and he sticks his fist to his heart. “You weren’t supposed to fall in love with him because I wanted you to fall in love with me.”
Chapter Seventeen
Jax
FIFTEEN YEARS OLD
“Okay! Listen up!” River calls out. He reminds me of a teacher trying to get the class’s attention. “The game is Seven Minutes in Heaven. Two people go into the closet for seven minutes.”
“And do what?” Essie asks, looking up at her brother from the floor.
“Talk. Make out—” Easton says.
“Whoa, whoa,” River says, stopping Easton. “No one is making out with my sister.”
Essie throws a pillow at him, and River steps to the side to dodge it.
“You can do whatever you want—even nothing,” River says.
I’ve already played Seven Minutes in Heaven twice before. To be honest, it’s nothing special. The last time I played, River was with me. Peyton Moore had snuck us into her sleepover, and we played. Mia and Callie were there too. Callie kissed a boy. Mia said if any boy touched her, she was slicing off their balls with a steak knife.
I’m fine with playing it again because there’s someone I actually want to make out with here. Amelia. We haven’t seen each other in a few weeks since we go to different schools, but we’ve texted a few times. Mainly talking shit, but a text is a text. I at least have her attention.
“Looks like I’ll have to sit this one out,” Essie says, shooting River a dirty look. She crosses her arms and falls back against the ratty couch. “I never get to do anything.”
We’re in Ava, Mia, and Easton’s grandparent’s basement. The three of them are cousins.
“How do we know who goes in with who?” Ava asks.
“Well …” River holds his hands in front of his face and wiggles his fingers, all villain from TV style. “Who are two people you think should be in a closet together?”
The dude expression he gives me is a clue for me to say him and Ava. He’s been crushing on her for a minute.
“Better yet,” Easton says, his voice threading with excitement, “who are two people we know who wouldn’t want to be in the closet together?”
They all say their form of, “Jax and Amelia.”
“Whoa,” Amelia says, holding her hand up and giving us all dirty looks. “You can’t just nominate people. Aren’t you supposed to spin the bottle?”
I narrow my gaze at her. “Have you played this game before, Amelia?”
Call me a hypocrite, but the thought of her being in the closet with another douchebag sends my heart racing. And it’s not like I enjoyed either time I had my time in the closet. One girl made out with my ear, and another one just moaned out my name because she wanted people to think we were banging. I made sure to correct everyone when I stepped out.
Just because Amelia and I attend two different schools doesn’t mean word doesn’t travel between them. Anchor Ridge, her school, is our rival team in every sport. There’s also the internet, and then loudmouth Ava would definitely say something.
“We can do it by vote,” Easton says. “And everyone votes on you two.”
Essie laughs. Ava rolls her eyes. Mia is on her phone, acting like she doesn’t care. Callie doesn’t know what the hell is going on because she hasn’t looked up from her book all night.
I stroke my jaw and look to Amelia. “Are you too chicken?”
She scoffs and jumps off the couch. “None of you will be invited to my birthday party.” She turns in a circle. “Not a single one of you assholes.”
River is nearly jumping in excitement, but he groans when Ava smacks the back of his head. I hear her say he’d better not try to get her in that closet or she’s kneeing him in the balls. Everyone follows us to the closet. It’s a small room, and only inches separate us.
Easton opens the door, and Amelia turns to me.
“You touch me, you die,” she warns, flipping her long hair over her shoulder.
“Who says I even want to touch you?” I snort, and River smacks my stomach. “You’d better keep as much distance between us as you can.”
She walks in behind me, and my heart feels like it’s going to burst out of my chest. The closet smells like old lady and mothballs, and as soon as the door slams shut, it’s pitch-black. I reach up and pull the string attached to the light.
Click.
Darkness.
Click.
Nothing.
“It’s out, of course,” I grumble.
“On the plus side,” Amelia says, “I don’t have to see you.”
“I was thinking the same thing.” I scratch my head, my cheek, shift from foot to foot. This is the creepiest and weirdest Seven Minutes in Heaven I’ve had.
Seconds of silence pass.
Amelia’s sweet-smelling strawberry-mango perfume and the whiskey on her breath—whiskey that we stole from upstairs—starts overpowering the mothball smell.
“I wonder if their ears are against the wall,” I whisper, making sure to keep my voice down, just in case. It’s what everyone did at the last party.
“Probably.”
I can picture her rolling her eyes.
I cringe when some type of old coat rubs against my shoulder. “And could they have picked a smaller closet? Jesus. I can hardly move in here.”
“Pretty sure that’s the whole point, genius.”
“Want to get them back?”
“Definitely. Who should we vote for?”
“I’m going to vote for you and someone else. In fact, I’m voting for you every single time.”
Lies.
And my friends know I’ll punch them in the face if they try to go in with her.
“Yeah, well, same,” she mutters. “Ugh, this is going to be the longest seven minutes of my life.”
I lower my voice even more. “Have you ever kissed anyone before?”
“That’s none of your business,” she hisses.
“I think it is since we’re Seven Minutes in Heaven partners.”
Please say no. Please say no.
She blows out a long breath. “You know, we don’t have to make out in here. I can kick your ass, and that’d be fine.”
“Do you want to kick my ass though?”
“Sometimes, yes.”
I chuckle. “Just answer my question.”
“Of course I’ve kissed someone,” she says around a groan.
“How many people?”
“None of your business.”
“You’re probably a terrible kisser.” I crack a smile at my lame, juvenile joke.
“Excuse me?” She reaches out and nudges my shoulder. “Have you ever kissed anyone?”
“Hell yeah. Plenty of girls.”
“Right,” she says sarcastically. “I’m sure you’re a crappy kisser, if that’s even true. What girl would ever let you kiss her?”
“Would you let me kiss you?”
“Absolutely not.”
I take a step closer. “Not even to prove to you that I’m a good kisser … and to prove you’re not?”
She doesn’t push me away, doesn’t try to move away. Instead, she only stays in place.
“Let’s see then.” I reach out and sink my fingers into her hair and lower my mouth to hers, but I don’t touch her lips yet. I just linger there, waiting for when the moment happens.
“You’d better not tell anyone about this,” she says against my mouth.
“You think I want someone to know we were in here, swapping spit? I’ll tell them you wanted to kiss, but I declined—”
“No, I’m telling them I forehead-slapped you to keep your distance.”
I drag my hand from her hair and down to her chin, cupping it. “This is only for testing purposes.”
“Only for testing purposes.”
“To prove you wrong.”
“To prove you wrong.”
And I press my lips against hers, wondering how long this will last.
A second?
A minute?
But we don’t stop.
I’m not sure when it happens or who started it, but our tongues slide into each other’s mouths. I’ve made out with other girls before, but it was nothing like this. With teenage-boy hesitation, I lower my hand down to her waist and press her into me. She pulls away, and I’m waiting for her to slap me, but she only catches a breath of air before kissing me again.
Holy shit.
This is amazing.
I can feel a hard-on coming. I beg the guy downstairs to calm down, so I don’t embarrass myself.
Him making an appearance in this closet might freak her out.
Last month, I took a girl to homecoming. We made out. It was almost boring. With her, it was like we were following some direction book. Kissing Amelia seems like the most natural thing I’ve ever done.
Will she be mad if I try more?
If I inch her shirt up?
I just want to feel how soft her skin is.
I play with the hem of her tank before slowly dragging it up and wait for her reaction. I hate that I can’t see her face, but she whispers that I can keep going.
I keep lifting it, my thumb moving circles along her bare stomach, and she shivers. I feel grown up when I drag my lips away from hers, brush her hair off her shoulder, and drop soft kisses down her neck.
I might be a teenage boy, but I’ve watched my fair share of online porn.
But what teenage boy doesn’t watch porn?
I consider it research for when I get to the point of touching a girl like this.
And if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that kissing a girl’s neck turns her on.
Just as I’m pushing her shirt up more and just as her hand slides up the bare skin of my back, there’s a bang on the door.
“All right, time is up!” River yells.
We jump apart, our backs pressed against the walls, and we’re catching our breaths when the door swings open. Everyone stands in the doorway with their eyes on us.
“Did you two really kiss?” Callie asks.
“Of course not,” Amelia says.
Wow, that sure makes a guy feel good.
“They for sure kissed,” Easton says. “Look at her hair. That’s making-out hair.”
Amelia rolls her eyes. “You said Seven Minutes in Heaven, so we said, why not?”
Callie gasps.
Ava high-fives her.
Essie yells, “When do I get to make out with someone?”
“Looks like you two don’t hate each other after all,” Mia says.
“It was a game more than anything,” Amelia goes on, refusing to look at me. “We wanted to see who would pull away first.”
“Yeah.” I make a show of wiping spit off my face. “A game.”
As we all walk away, I step next to Amelia and whisper, “I’ve got to say, you’re actually a pretty good kisser.”
She grins. “Told you so.”
And I think that’s the moment I start falling in love with her.
SIXTEEN YEARS OLD
“Our friends are boring as fuck,” I tell Amelia, tossing the remote up in the air and catching it.
We’re hanging out in the kids’ quarters of the beach house our parents rented. Their group of friends, along with us kids, rent three houses on the same street. Ours is the biggest and has a separate wing, so we’ve deemed it our spot.
Essie, Easton, and Callie are sleeping on the floor. River, Ava, and Mia are crashed out on the couch across from us. Amelia and I are on the other sofa, one on each side. We’re the only ones who stayed awake during the horror movie we insisted the girls watch with us.
I watched Amelia more than I did the movie tonight. She’s still wearing her bikini top, showing off her full breasts, and a pair of short-shorts that are only a little longer than her bikini bottoms. Her hair isn’t straight, as she normally wears it, because it got wet. And when it gets wet, it gets curly and a bit frizzy. And she still looks hot.
“It’s late,” Amelia says, shrugging. “We were at the beach all day. They’re exhausted.”
The beach was fun.
Watching Amelia in her bikini was even better.
The more we grow up, the less I see her as an annoying girl I teased and more the one I’m lusting over. Not that I was the only one staring. Guys of all ages turned their heads when she walked by, and I wanted to kick all their asses.
Since our Seven Minutes in Heaven night a whole year ago, thoughts of our kiss have taken over my brain. I want to do it again and again and again. I could spend the rest of my life kissing and touching her, and I’d never grow bored.
Sure, there are hot girls at school, but no one catches my attention like she does. No one pushes my buttons, making me want her more, the way Amelia does. When girls hit on me at school, I sometimes entertain it, but my mind is always on Amelia. She attends a different school, so I don’t see her as much as I want. But anytime I know there’s a chance to, I never miss it.
“We were at the beach all day too,” I point out. “It’s our last night here. We should be having fun.”
Amelia taps her fingers against her chin. “What should we be doing instead then?”
Good question.
Our options are limited, but we can sneak out, or steal some alcohol, or play a damn game. Not catch some z’s.
“Not sleeping. Not being boring.”
And my response is boring.
She drops her hand from her chin and chews on one of her purple fingernails. “What do you do when you’re bored?”
I level my gaze on her, and it takes everything I have not to smirk. “Amelia, I’m a sixteen-year-old. What do you think I do when I’m bored?” I gesture to my crotch with my hand.
“Oh my God, ew.” She leans down to snatch a pillow from the floor and throws it at me. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Are you saying you’ve never …” The smirk I’ve been hiding makes an appearance as my words trail off.
She scoots in closer and lowers her voice. “I’m not talking to you about that.”
“Then, that means you have.” My cock twitches in my shorts, and I grab the pillow she threw at me, covering it up. “Probably to thoughts of me.”
“Pfft, you wish.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m sure it’s the other way around.”
I tip my head forward and scratch my neck.
“Oh my God,” she shrieks before putting her hand over her mouth, as if she were too loud. She slaps my chest. “Please say you don’t jerk your chicken to me.”
“I mean …” I run my hand through my unbrushed hair. “I might hate you, but that doesn’t mean you’re not hot.”
The more we talk, the closer we scoot toward each other. Her legs are crossed, and mine hang off the side of the couch.
“You insult me all the time.”
I wiggle my finger at her. “But do I ever tell you you’re ugly? No. You’re hot. I’m not a liar.”
She does a scan of the room, making sure no one is awake. “I guess I’ll admit that you’re hot too.”
I take back all my earlier complaints.
My friends had better keep their asses asleep.
Time with just Amelia is better than doing non-boring stuff with them.
I rub my hands together. “Let’s play Truth or Dare.”
“No way.” She shakes her head repeatedly. “You have the worst dares.”
“I suggest you choose truth then.”
“If I pick truth, then you’ll ask me personal and most likely embarrassing questions.”
“Your choice, Millie.”
“Fine.” She throws her head back, strands of her hair falling from her ponytail. “Truth.”
“Hmm …” I chew on my lower lip. “Have you ever snuck out of your house before?” It’s a weak question, but if I jump straight into too personal, she might quit on me.
She eyes me suspiciously. “Are you going to snitch on me?”
“Hell no. I’m not twelve anymore.”
“Yep.” She sighs and hooks a finger toward me. “Your turn.”
“Dare.”
“I dare you to sneak out with me and hang out on the beach.”
Our parents will definitely kick our asses if we get caught.
I wait for Amelia to burst out in laughter, to tell me she’s joking, but she doesn’t.
I stand, hold my hand out, and tell her, “Come on.”
I drop her hand briefly to steal the blanket off a snoring River and wrap it around my arm, and then our fingers are interlaced again.
The summer chill hits my shoulders when we walk out, and I drag Amelia in closer to me, throwing my arm over her shoulders. I keep walking until I find what feels like a safe space with a dim light overhead. It’s in front of River and Essie’s parents’ place. My biggest goal is for us not to be in sight of Amelia’s parents. Her dad would probably drown my ass in the ocean and leave me dead for the sharks.
I spread the blanket out and signal for her to sit down. Amelia slips off her sandals and crawls onto the blanket, sand following alongside her. I do the same, joining her, and we make ourselves comfortable. Amelia sits up straight with her legs brought up to her chest, and we face each other. I stretch my legs out, spreading them so she’s between them. I’ve never felt so content and happy in my life.
She stares up at me and smiles before hugging herself.
“You cold?” I ask, reaching forward and running my hands up and down her arms.
“A little,” she mutters.
I drag my shirt off and hand it to her. “Here.”
“Won’t you be cold then?”
“I’m good. I’m warm-blooded.” I smile and twirl one of her curls around my finger. “My turn. Truth or dare, Millie?”
She hesitates before saying, “Truth,” and then slips my shirt on.
I chuckle. “You’re really afraid of those dares, aren’t you?”
“Who knows what you’d have me do out here?” She does a sweeping gesture toward the ocean, the waves a relaxing noise around us. “The last thing I need is you daring me to swim to an island or to sleep out here alone for the rest of the night.”
