don’t know how to kiss a girl correctly.”
The words come tumbling out of my mouth before I can stop them. Immediately, I feel like dying—which is a foreign feeling to have. Is that what losers who trip over their own two feet in front of the entire school feel like? It’s not hot.
“Really?” His voice drops to a low pitch, making shivers race up and down my spine. “And how do good boys kiss?”
“Uh,” I stutter, then look away. “She says a real kiss is one that steals the air in your lungs, makes your entire body tingle, that by the time it’s over, all you want to do, is to do it all over again because you know, no one will ever kiss you like that. Ever.”
I don’t know why my voice drops to a whisper or why I can’t seem to be able to look him in the eye. I’m a brave girl. I’m the shit no matter where I am, so this, whatever this is, is making me extremely nervous.
I try to calm down, my virgin lips tingling as he looks down at them. I suddenly feel warm inside, and I want it. For the first time since ever, I want a boy to kiss me.
Not just any other boy, but him. He’s tall, dark, handsome, well-spoken, his voice is deep and makes my insides knot up, exactly what older girls say in my ballet class.
He looks like a young warrior, with that menacing expression on his face, his emerald eyes dark and heavy with emotion he’s trying so hard to keep in check. And I want him to take my first kiss.
If I’m lucky, he’ll probably be at my new high school, St. Jude High. The best school in Palos Verdes and something tells me that he’s one of the popular guys there. He has to be. It’ll all be perfect because I’ll be popular too.
“What’s your name?” he questions instead, snapping me out of my steamy fantasy that I’ve never had about anyone before, not even for Shane Matthews.
“Why does that matter?” I croak, grabbing the bandage with buttery fingers as I try to ignore the burning in my cheeks. I can feel his eyes on me, so I carefully start wrapping the bandage around his knuckles like a pro. I’ve learned to take care of my own injuries alone in the past two years.
“What’s your name?” he demands again, watching me with a hooded gaze that’s clear of pain but now looks so dark and threatening, I gasp.
“I… it doesn’t matter.”
In one move, he grabs my chin in his right hand, bringing it up to hold my gaze.
“You just eavesdropped on a private conversation about sensitive, private information that no one in this town beside a few people know,” he starts, emerald green orbs pouring into me. “You know that my brother is in there. You know he has Down syndrome. But what you don’t know is that my brothers are the most important people in my life and I will always protect them against anyone and anything that tries to so much as attempt to threaten them in any way or form.”
Like a deer in headlights, I stare up at him, his fingers digging into my chin.
“Now, what’s your name?”
So, his anger is wrapped up in family matters, huh? He cares for his brother. He looks protective, alpha, and strong. I dare not deny him anything now.
“Mia.”
He waits, silently, eyes boring into me, taking all my secrets, my truths, maybe even my soul. Because a name isn’t just a name. It’s your identity, your past and present and right now that he’s about to know, it’s my future.
“Mia Montague.”
“Mia,” he says my name like he’s been saying it all his life in a prayer, in his sleep, and during the day. He says it like it means something to him and I want him to say it again, but he doesn’t.
“Why are you here?” he echoes the same question he asked before.
“That’s none of your business.” I try to move away from him, but he doesn’t let my chin go.
“It is my business, especially if I find out that you’re just some girl about to attend my school and you want to come in rolling as the queen bee, knowing a secret about my family that will only harm you.”
That angers me all over again. The fact that this asshole feels entitled to everything and everyone is not only off-putting, it’s disgusting.
I’m the