The Guidance - By Marley Gibson Page 0,65

to watch something romantic," I say with a frown.

"No, Kendall, I said I wanted romantic time with you."

I spread my hands wide. "What do you call this?"

He rolls his eyes skyward. "I call it baby-sitting."

"Yeah, sorry about that. It was the only way Mom and Dad would let us be alone in the house."

He harrumphs. "Don't they trust you?"

I laugh at him and pick at the zipper of his hoodie. "I don't think they trust you."

Jason sighs hard and removes his arm from around me. "Jesus, Kendall. How many people's permissions do I have to get to be with you?"

I sit up, and my mouth drops open. "No one's. I mean, what are you talking about?"

He stands and nearly trips on the sneakers he discarded when he got here an hour ago with pizza, soda, and a smile. "Between not having classes together at school and you always being with my sister, Celia, and Becca, and all of your ghost hunting, and this obsession with what Courtney's going through—"

"Hey! Now, wait a minute. I—"

"And now your parents not trusting us to be together and you having to baby-sit. Not to mention your imaginary friend who's constantly around. It gives me the creeps knowing she's always watching us." He spins back to me, his blue eyes ablaze. "When do I rate some of your time, Kendall? I'm your boyfriend."

"I know, Jason! I'm so sorry. There's just so much going on, you know that."

"That's the sad thing, Kendall. I do know it. You know how long it's been since we just hung out, you and me?"

"We're hanging out now."

"With your little sis and her friend upstairs."

"We went bowling," I say meekly.

He throws his hands up. "Yeah, with Taylor and Ryan and Celia and Dragon and—"

"I know—"

"And it turned into a ghost investigation."

My chest hurts over his words. Not 'cause he's being mean, but because he's right. I don't make him cookies or leave him love notes or fix up for him like I should. I look down at my ratty jeans and Bobby Hull Chicago Blackhawks hockey jersey that I love so much. Would it have killed me to put on a little eye shadow and blush and foof up my hair and wear one of those new outfits from my Atlanta shopping spree?

"Jason, I'm sooooooo sorry."

I walk up to him and wrap my arms around his firm waist. He's hesitant, but he finally gives in and hugs me back. "It's hard being with you, Kendall."

"Why?" I ask, muffled against his chest.

"Because I'm never just alone with you."

Pulling away a little bit, I stare dreamily into his amazing eyes that had me from the get-go. "We're alone now," I say with a tease in my voice.

He smiles. "Sort of."

Feeling bold, I lift up on my tiptoes and place my lips on Jason's. At first, he's a little stiff and distant, then he cuddles me into his arms, nearly raising me off my feet as he deepens the kiss. Ahhh ... there we go. That's much better.

We work our way over to the couch in the flickering light of the television. Images of Meg Ryan and Kevin Kline traipsing through the French countryside fade into the distance and all I concentrate on is the feel of Jason's mouth on mine and his taut, athletic body lying next to me as we make out on the couch.

I love kissing. It's so personal. And so giving. There's nothing like it. I think I was born to do nothing but kiss this boy. His lips are soft and full, and he certainly knows what he's doing. I don't want to think about all the practice he's had before me—especially not the hours spent with Courtney Langdon. I hope he thinks I'm as good a kisser as she was. God, I shouldn't think of things like that. Jason must think I'm a good kisser too 'cause he does this little moany-groan thing when our tongues touch. It's like the best dessert I've ever had without the guilt of thousands of evil calories.

Jason's hands get a little bold, roaming across my stomach and into the waistband of my jeans. I wiggle a little bit to resist. However, I'm also enjoying his warm touch as his fingers grip my stomach and bunch up my shirt. I unzip his hoodie and push it off his arms. I want to be closer to him. I can feel his body heat through the thin Atlanta Braves T-shirt he's wearing. He moves in