Kalem's Kisses (English Version)

Chapter 6

We'd arrived at my house, Kalem in his car with his younger brother, and me with Mom, who couldn't stop giving me sly smiles along the way. I was grateful she didn't ask any questions.

I was in the living room with Kalem while Khaled ran off after Mom pointed him toward the kitchen. I went to get a glass of water for the two of us. As I approached the couch where Kalem was sitting, I tripped over my own feet—the carpet hated me—and a splash of water landed on him.

"Oh no! I swear it wasn't intentional," I exclaimed, putting the glasses down and quickly grabbing some napkins from one of the drawers. Kalem stood up, shaking off the water from his shirt, which got the worst of it. "I'm so sorry, let me fix it."

"Don't worry about it," he replied, amused. "If you wanted me to take a shower, you could have just asked."

"This guy," I chuckled, shaking my head, and started dabbing at his shirt with the napkins, trying to dry it off. My hands felt his abs through the fabric. "Wow, you're more sculpted than my grandma's bread," I whispered, mesmerized by his well-defined muscles.

"Care to show me your room again?" he whispered, teasing.

The brown-haired guy loved to tempt me like that.

"You're not that lucky, Kalem," I retorted.

"I wouldn't be so sure," he said, locking eyes with me. What did he mean by that look?

"I have so many questions because I'm a curious man," a voice came out of nowhere, making me jump. It was my dad. "But right now, I'd like to know why my daughter has her hands on the abs of this guy whose identity I don't know."

"Oh, Dad, don't be like that," I said, quickly removing my hands.

"Kalem Taylor, Mr. Scott," Kalem extended his hand with that charm-filled smile. My dad frowned the same way I did and shook Kalem's hand a bit tighter than necessary.

"I need more than a name to understand why you're in my house at this hour," he said, crossing his arms with an intimidating look.

I glanced at Kalem and could see he wasn't intimidated at all. In fact, he seemed entertained; his smile didn't fade, and that seemed to irk my dad even more.

"Mrs. Scott invited us for dinner," Kalem explained.

"Us?" Dad raised an eyebrow.

And as if on cue, Khaled came running into the living room with a toy airplane. Oh no. It was one of Dad's collectibles. His eyes widened when he saw the kid holding one of his prized possessions.

"Put that down, little hurricane!" Dad shouted, chasing after him, but Khaled was too fast, dodging and giggling. Kalem joined the chase, and I was left standing in the living room, laughing at the chaos in my house.

"Stop laughing, Heather Monserrat!" Dad scolded me, using yet another made-up middle name. The truth was, I didn't have a middle name, but Dad enjoyed making them up. "You still haven't told me what your relationship with this guy is, for your mother to invite him to sit at my table," he said, panting as he continued chasing the boy.

"Uh-huh," I said, distracted as I pulled out my phone and started recording them, to laugh about it later.

After a while, with the men still chasing the little hurricane, we were all sitting at the dining table. My dad with his stern look on Kalem and Khaled, who were busy devouring their food. The boy turned to Kalem and gave him a toothy smile, and Kalem returned the smile, cleaning his corners with his thumbs.

I couldn't help but smile, and Mom looked delighted. Dad, on the other hand, was serious.

"So, tell me about yourself, young man," Dad asked, taking a bite of his food. Kalem turned to him.