Page 88 of Bending Under Pressure

By the time I’ve run a brush through my hair and have brushed my teeth again, my phone dings with a text from Keelan. He’s here. I slip on my flip-flops, ease the window open, and quietly climb outside. A shiver racks my body immediately. Dang, it’s cold out here. I run to Keelan’s car, knowing it’s going to be warm and cozy in there. His heat is blasting, just like I thought it would be.

“Hey, Hales.” His smile is the best thing I’ve seen all week, even though I see it frequently.

“Hey. Thanks for coming to get me.”

“I should thank you for wanting me to,” he replies as he backs out of the driveway, turning his lights on once we’re on the road. “How come you couldn’t sleep?”

“I think I just wanted to see you.”

“And now here you are with me.”

He parks in his driveway, turning off the engine, and we quietly leave the car and enter the house. I hold my breath until we’re in his room. This is so out of character for me. Sneaking out to kiss a boy, letting him talk me into doing illegal things, and wanting to do all those things? Not me. At least, it wasn’t me last year. Who knows if the change in me is due to the divorce, my out-of-reach father, or Keelan? Keelan is the best part, and I want to enjoy him as much as possible.

I take a deep breath when his door closes behind us and the lock clicks into place. My feet slide out of

my flip-flops and I climb onto Keelan’s bed, wasting no time slipping underneath the sheets. The bed dips almost immediately as Keelan gets in after me. Shirtless, I might add.

“You’re comfortable here,” he whispers, even though he probably doesn’t need to. His parents’ TV is loud enough, it’s not like anyone could hear us if we speak normally.

“What are you talking about?” I ask with a frown.

“Here, in my bed.”

“Oh.” Yeah, I guess I am. It’s feels warm and safe. We’re lying on our sides facing one another. Keelan grabs my hips to tug me closer to him, so both our heads are on the same pillow.

“Are you doing okay, Hales?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Because you don’t usually have trouble sleeping and you haven’t said much about your dad bailing on you again.”

That isn’t why I came here. I don’t want to talk about that. I don’t want to talk about anything at all. I wiggle a little closer until there’s a breath of space between us. “I want to kiss you,” I whisper.

“Then do it,” he says with a grin.

I rest my hands on his chest, my fingers splayed. His dark skin is warm and my hands stand out against it. Weightlifting and football sure are paying off. He’s fit and just barely defined because of how lean he is. If he put on more muscle, I’d be able to see and feel a clear six-pack. Keelan chuckles, drawing my eyes up to his again. Right. Kissing him is what I’m supposed to be doing.

His grip tightens on my hips the second before my lips touch his. He rolls onto his back, pulling me with him. I pause at the new position.

“Okay?”

Am I? I almost feel powerful towering over him like this. I like that I am over him instead of the other way around. There’s something different about it than when I was over here the other day and he was on top of me. “Okay,” I confirm, leaning down to kiss him again.

Our kisses start slow. Our tongues slide against one another in a caress’ strokes that are like a slow burn of a building fire. Tentatively, I start trailing my fingertips over his chest. Up, down, left, right, anywhere and everywhere that’s still safe. But then, Keelan moves his hands from my hips to underneath my shirt. My stomach tenses as he touches bare skin.

Keelan leans his head back into the pillow, away from me. “You’re not wearing a shirt?” he rasps.

“I’m wearing a hoodie.”

“I got that, but there’s no shirt.”

I giggle as quietly as possible. “Yes, I know.”

His gulp sounds loud to me. “This okay then?”

When I hesitate, he begins to slide his hands back down as if he’s going to remove them. I shake my head. “It’s okay.”

To prove my point, I begin to kiss him again. Kissing Keelan might just be my favorite thing in the world. He’s always so earnest, so sensual. At first, he simply glides his knuckles from my waist to my hips. Safe areas. Sometimes, he spreads his fingers out over my lower back. I almost wish I were wearing a shirt because it’s starting to get too hot. Heat begins to spread to unsafe areas. Places I’m not sure how to handle, if I even wanted to. It’s too foreign, too scary, and has too many consequences, both positive and negative.

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