Page 113 of Something So Strong

I nod my approval and pull the pen cap off with my teeth.

“You’ll get a lot of attention, but at least you’ll look good on my arm.”

“Who says I’ll be on your arm?” I lean forward and bob my head to the side with more sass than I thought I had in me.

Beginning with a capital J, it’s only when it’s completed that I realize I started too big and have to switch to lower-case lettering for the rest of my name.

“You’re adorable when you’re trying to act in control.”

Are you forgetting how you crumble when my fingers are anywhere near your mouth?

“Who sucked who’s dick?” My sass continues unabated.

I sit up, return the pen’s cap, and toss it on Kai’s desk.

“Yeah, and I’ll let you in on a little secret…I fucking loved holding you in the palm of my hand. Didn’t think sucking cock would be something I’d like as much, but those noises you were making were irresistible.”

I gulp and fight every single urge swelling inside of me. “Do I at least get to pick your outfit?”

“Have at it, Pretty Boy.”

Goddamn it, I turn to mush every time he calls me that.

The sun is still setting when Kai pulls the van into one of the town’s backstreets. We’re just two blocks behind the high street, but it’s mostly residential, with some houses converted into small businesses and inns.

Offering me a chaste smile, Kai hops out of the van. Through the side mirror, I watch him stroll several meters down the footpath before looking back at me with a, you gonna follow me, Pretty Boy, smirk.

I know he said all eyes would be on me tonight, but with him around, I don’t see how anyone could look in my direction. Having requested he shave his undercut, the dark brown sides highlight the long indigo-blond that he styled messily back and to one side. I know Kai doesn’t have much money, but what few clothes he does have are well chosen, and look so much more than they’re worth hanging from his body.

I wrap a Burberry scarf around my neck as I climb out of the van, then meet Kai at the entrance of a narrow alley that leads through to the high street, where I kiss him. It’s not passionate, but it’s more than a peck. And when we part, he holds his left hand at waist height, spreads his fingers, and twists his wrist a few times. “Your choice. To hold, or not to hold.”

“Give me that,” I deadpan and snatch his hand, because what’s the point of having a hot-ass boyfriend if it’s only in the privacy of our bedrooms?

Through the alley I’m led, and part way through, we cross paths with a mother pushing a stroller, and I squeeze Kai’s hand nervously. Meeting her eyes, she nods with a kind smile, and I exhale the relief—and shame—from my body because I don’t want to be like this. I don’t want to worry what strangers will think of me. Of us. But, fuck the world, because so many people are still filled with so much hate.

At the end of the alley, Kai stops, turns to me, and pecks my lips softly. “Thanks for coming. It’s my first ever date… So, yeah…”

My nostrils flare and my lips press together as I try to not smile too hard. “No one is ever going to believe how sweet you are.”

“Good. I’ve spent a lot of time building my brooding and cocky image.”

“Well, I’m honored to be your first date, anyway. But I’m starving, and I might have to eat you if you don’t feed me soon.”

Kai squeezes my hand and shakes his head like he’s contemplating whether or not to take me back to the van and forget about dinner. “You’re killing me,” he says, biting his lip, but ultimately drags me out of the alley and onto the footpath.

Instantly, my eyes light up like a Christmas tree—which is ironic, because the narrow alpine street looks more festive than Regent Street in London. Both ends are barricaded so no cars can enter, and the ground is covered in the lightest dusting of snow. Hung overhead between the buildings are millions of white and blue lights. Every tree that lines the footpath twinkles, and craft and food stalls are set up the whole stretch of the street.

It’s only after I’ve taken it all in that I notice Kai’s eyes on me, and how they’re beaming with the satisfaction of my surprise, making me want to kiss him all over again.

“C’mon, this way.” He jerks his head. And as I follow, I accept my story is being rewritten by an inked god in excessively baggy cords and black Chuck Taylors, and that I’m pretty sure I’d follow him anywhere…

For the next year…

Until Uni starts again. Because I can’t expect him to move to the other side of the world for me…

“I hope you like Japanese.”

Chinese or Indian I’d expect, but a Japanese restaurant seems a little unusual for such a small town.

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