There's a bottle of whiskey hidden in my closet in case of emergencies and major fuckups like this. My skin is crawling with the intense need to drink the entire thing and pass out cold to forget what I did.
Instead, I yank my phone out of my back pocket and hover my finger over the keyboard. I can't avoid her like I've done to others in the past. If I'm this fucked in the head right now, what the hell is she feeling? I probably scared her to death, and I can't let her feel that way.
I type out a quick, nervous text:
Me: Angel...you okay?
Five agonizing minutes pass while I sit on my bedroom floor and stare at my closet door.
Kenzi: Yes. Are you? I hope you washed that road rash on your hand and leg so you don't get infected.
God. Why does she always try to take care of me?
Me: I will.
Kenzi: Have you heard any news on the big fluffy dog?
Me: Not yet.
Kenzi: I like him a lot. He just wanted love, even though he was hurt and lost. He reminds me of you.
My chest contracts.
Me: Ya think?
Kenzi: Yup.
Me: I'm sorry I scared you.
Kenzi: You never scare me, Tor.
Shit. Wrong answer, little girl. Wrong.Fucking.Answer.
Kenzi: Maybe you're scared.
I want to throw my phone against the wall. I don't know what to say to that. I'm afraid to say anything because I don't trust anything about myself right now. This kid has always had a microscope right into my soul and it's driving me mad.
Am I scared?
Yes. I'm petrified of what she's made me feel.
Kenzi: Everything is okay, Tor.
My fingers are shaking as I type back on the tiny keyboard.
Me: Is it?
Kenzi: Yes. It is.
Her words convey comfort and confidence - not fear as I expected.
I don't reply and a few minutes later, a text message comes through with a picture of a penny, and she's typed the words I wish you wouldn't worry across it. The last thing I feel like doing is smiling, but I do, because that's what she does to me.
Me: Thanks, Angel.
Kenzi: No drinking. Promise me?
I shake my head at the phone. She knows me too well. Better than she really should.
Me: I promise.
Kenzi: Good.
I breathe a deep sigh of relief as I toss my phone off to the side. We've silently agreed to pretend the kiss never happened.
Bullshit.
For the past two weeks I've been laying low, working on my bike, landscaping my yard, and training this goofy white dog who almost got me killed and then led to me kissing someone my lips had no right to be on. When my mom told me no one ever came to claim the dog, I went over and adopted him and he stuck his head out the truck window on the way home with the wind in his face as we drove right past the place I saved him. I couldn't let a beautiful dog like this sit in a concrete kennel recuperating with a broken leg, right? At least that's what I told Mom.
We know the real reason, though. Because Kenzi fell in love with him in the back seat that day and now he has sentimental value. He witnessed our first kiss.
First and last kiss, I remind myself. First and last.
I haven't talked to her since that day due to her having her wisdom teeth pulled out and then she came down with the worst friggin' cold ever. At least that's what her text message told me. I did go to her graduation and stood with her family like I always have, watching her take steps into adulthood. She didn't say one word to me at the ceremony. In fact, she barely looked at me. I declined the invitation of going back to Asher's house for a small party afterwards. I felt too guilty being near her and all her loved ones, afraid someone would notice a difference between us, or that I'd have a meltdown and admit what I did to all of them while we stood around eating cake.
Is she avoiding me? The possibility has crossed my mind several thousand times, and it hurts me in a way I can't describe, but it's the way it should be. I kissed a fucking seventeen-year-old girl. Seventeen. That little fact turns my stomach every time I think of it. She thinks of me as her uncle. I'm closer to her than her own uncles are. I've never once been even remotely attracted to anyone under twenty-one before, unless I was that age myself. But something about Kenzi is different. She doesn't act or look her age at all. I've come to think of her as more of a friend than anything else over the past few years, and I have no idea how that even happened. Up until now, I never thought about our relationship as unhealthy or wrong. Now I'm second guessing everything.
I've texted her pictures of the newly-groomed and incredibly white fluffy dog, whom I've named Diogee. She texted back that as soon as she feels better she's coming right over to play with him and vacuum up all the white fur that's accumulating in places of my house that I never thought dog fur could end up.
I have mixed feelings about seeing her again, and I try to convince myself it will be a good way to prove to myself that what happened was just a one-time mistake that will never happen again. But mixed in with that is hidden excitement and longing. I want to see her smile at me with those lips that tasted so delicious. Even if I can never taste them again.
I feel guilty as I'm walking into Asher's house on this sunny Sunday morning. Today we've got a ride planned and we always meet up at his house. But now that I'm here, I feel like I have a big red mark on my face in the shape of his daughter’s lips.
"Hey, man, it's a perfect day for a ride," he says when I walk into the kitchen. "You want some coffee before we head out?"
"Nah, I'm trying to quit. It makes me jittery."
He pulls two bottles of water out of the refrigerator and tosses one at me. "Let's ride up to Cathedral Ledge. I got a new camera and I want to take some pictures."
"Dude, every year you buy a new camera."
"I know. I think I have some bizarre camera fetish. Do you want one of my old ones? I've got about five I think."
"Thanks, but I'm good. If I want a picture of something I'll just use my cell phone. I can't deal with all those buttons and settings," I wander across the kitchen to look out the window while I wait for him to put his boots on, and that's when I see Kenzi, Chloe and Rayne sitting out by the pool, laughing like girls do. I have to force myself not to stare at Kenzi in cut off faded denim shorts, bright apple red bikini top, sunglasses on top of her head pushing her hair off her face, and black motorcycle boots on her feet. It's the little black leather boots that get to me the most and make my body twitch in ways it definitely shouldn't be. Fuck. I can't escape this shit.
She looks like she just stepped right out of one of Tristan's biker chick calendars he's got hanging in his work area. As hard as I try, my eyes disobey me and take in the swell of her breasts cradled in the thin material, the perfect curve of her waist, to her belly button just above the hem of her low cut shorts.
She's not hot. She's not hot. She's not hot.
"She's cute, but way too young, man," Asher says, coming up behind me and slapping my back.
I blink rapidly. "Huh? Who?"
"Chloe."
Shit. "I wasn't looking at her. She's got the body of a twelve year old." Unlike Kenzi who suddenly has the body of a twenty-something year old who’s got my blood pumping wildly.
Why can't she be one of those giggly, annoying teens with a horrible attitude that hates everyone? Why does she have to be so sweet and smart and beautiful and caring and independent and such a great listener and -
"Well, you better not be looking at my little sister."
- and everything I want.
I quickly turn away from the window. "I wasn't looking at anyone. I was spacing out wondering if that dog is trashing my house. Can we go? You take longer than a chick to get ready." A thin sheen of sweat has covered my body as I fight my physical and emotional reaction to her. I've got a Kenzi-induced fever and I need to get out of here and away from her before I pass out.
Riding all day helps settle my mind and body. Something about the mountain air, the roar of my engine, and the endless clear blue sky always puts me in a good mood. Asher rides in front and I follow a few lengths behind. About three hours into the ride we stop for lunch at an old roadside burger place, and I come damn close to coming clean and spilling my guts out to Asher about what happened with Kenzi. I feel like pure scum betraying the trust of the guy who's been my best friend for twenty-five years, who's done more for me than anyone else, and trusted me with the most precious thing in his life. It's eating at me day and night and I want this monster out of me.
"How's the shop doing?" He asks.
"Great. The past two years have been the best we've ever done for profits. I was actually able to give my brothers a raise for once, so they're happy."
He nods around his burger. "Good deal. I think the new sign out front and painting the building really helped, it kinda breathed new life into it. People like that."
"You're right, it made a big difference. Pop never thought about things like that."
"Marketing can be a bitch. Our PR team is on us to change our logo. I told them to go get fucked. I'm not changing it."
Ash and I designed the scrolling A&E Ashes & Embers logo when we first started the band way back in high school. I never cared that the band name was a play on his and Ember’s names. It fit perfectly.
"I don't blame ya. It's been the brand since day one. The fans recognize it. Shit, how many people have it tattooed on them that we've seen?"
"Exactly. The logo stays. It's us."
"It's you."
He leans back in his chair and shakes his head. "No, man. It's always us. Just because you and Ember aren't in the band anymore doesn't mean shit to me. We started it. It's our baby. I'd have none of this without you. Don't think I ever forget that, because I don't."
"We're equal, Ash. Where would I be without you? Broke? In prison? Dead, maybe? I wrote some songs. Big deal. You've bailed me out of a mess a hundred times. You don't owe me anything."