Finding the Pure Note

Lips Like Fire, Alive With Desire

Note: This chapter contains stronger sexual content than what these boys have indulged in before. Sex is a natural part of life, and we don't have to shy away from talking about it or experiencing it in book form.

I catch Hunter's impatient glare out of the corner of my eye, and I give him his favourite present: my middle finger, and keep my lips locked on Fletcher's. We'd been making out for the past few minutes, and Hunter could only stand by patiently for so long. Every once in a while he would swing his tennis racket in wide arcs. The car park was mostly empty, but a teacher did pass us at one point. They didn't make a comment, though I felt them staring. I'm becoming more comfortable in my sexuality, and part of that is letting the world slip from focus, to not let it have any power over who I decide to love.

I end our makeout session only for Hunter's sake, but Fletch pecks me on the lips again as I pull away. He goes in for another, and I grip his chin, tilting it to the left, giggling.

"Come on, dude. We knew this goodbye was coming."

Fletcher groans like a four-year-old kid told they couldn't have ice cream. "Can't I stay over again?"

"Look, I'm all for it. But if mum finds out about that little stunt we pulled today, you don't want to be in the line of fire, believe me."

"How's she gonna find out? Please, Clay. I'll beg till you say yes. You know I will."

"Your car's still here," I note, nodding to the squat little Ibiza. "Now you can follow me home and risk mum's wrath, or you can go home, I'll assess the damage, and then text you if the coast is clear. Sound like a plan?"

Hunter lets out an exasperated sigh. "Can you ladies just say goodbye already?"

I flash a toothy grin his way, then face Fletcher again, taking his hand, fiddling with his fingers. "If mum flips, I can always pull the dad excuse, and that I need you to comfort me in this hard time. It's stretching things a bit, but it's worth a shot."

Fletcher looks distressed. "You'll have more of a chance if I'm there," he pleads. "It'll be harder for your mum to say no if I'm standing right there."

"You make a compelling argument," I laugh. "But it doesn't always work on my mum, and you know it. Don't worry, if you can't come over, we can just FaceTime."

"Fuck FaceTime," he groans. "I want to kiss you, and I can't do that through a stupid screen."

I blush, about to say something romantic, something sexy, when Hunter's racket jabs me in the back of the head.

"It's like I'm watching some crappy teen rom-com. Don't you guys get sick of all the lovey-dovey shit?"

I frown, conceding in my head we are maybe cringey from a certain point of view. But I don't give a damn what others think of our relationship, looking at it from the outside. They're not in it.

"Hunter, my dear, brother... It's easy enough to feel left out, bitter even when no one wants you. I guess the perpetual air of mopey dismissiveness isn't a big turn on for the ladies. People want genuine connection, and 'cause you're not giving it, you're just jealous. Which is a perfectly natural response—"

"I'm not fucking jealous!" he snaps, swinging his racket violently along the ground, sending little rocks and dust flying. Some of them hit my car, and he snaps his head up quickly, cheeks draining of colour. "Um, er... I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."

"Forget it," I say with a pleasant smile. "I'm in a really good mood. That tends to happen when you find someone who gives you purpose, who you want to fight for and be better for. You can gag and shit-talk us—me, all you want, it won't change a damn thing. No one's gonna take our happiness from us."