Page 44 of Texas Kissing

I was the only kid at our school who hadn’t caught on to the fact Russell was gay, even if he wasn’t out yet. That’s how starved of social contact I was.

Faggots,as my uncle called them, weren’t people he wanted me hanging out with. I was forbidden to see him again, but that wasn’t enough. He quietly applied pressure to the school board and, suddenly, Russell’s parents were told that maybe their son would be happier elsewhere. His parents had to move him and, because word got around, none of theupmarket private schools would take him. He eventually landed at a nearby public school, where his posh background meant he was targeted and beaten daily. After that, no one dared to be my friend at all except Annette.

Or there was the time, in my freshman year at college, when I came home stinking of air freshener, because I’d doused myself in it to try to get rid of the smell of weed. Just one shared joint with the cool kids in the old boiler room. I barely even got a buzz off it. I just wanted to fit in.

But my uncle guessed. He questioned me for a solid hour about who’d given me drugs and then, when he got tired, Antonio had taken over. I’d eventually broken down and told them the name of the kid who’d passed around the joint. He wasn’t at college the next day. He showed up days later with one leg in plaster and from then on he walked the other way every time he saw me. That was the worst part—he was so scared of me, I never even got to apologize.

More memories rose up inside me, rushing towards the surface. Suddenly, the cool, clean, air-conditioned bus felt a lot like our house, back in New York.

I needed hot desert air, a reminder I wasn’t there anymore. I jumped up from my desk but found my legs would barely hold me, I’d started shaking so hard. I staggered down the bus, tears turning everything blurry. I had to feel for the door button—

And then I was outside, and for once the Texas sun felt good. It was reassurance that I wasn’t trapped in New York anymore.

My breathing slowed and I managed to push thememories down below the surface again. I slumped against the bus, even though its metal sides were almost hot enough to burn me.

When I felt strong enough, I went back inside and focused on Arianna’s French passport. I did my very best work, despite my lingering jealousy. I’m nothing if not professional.

I did give her twenty-seven French parking tickets, though. I’m notthatprofessional.

Three days later, I was making coffee, still stewing over what to do about Bull, when my phone rang. I was so focused on what I was going to do about the problem, it didn’t occur to me that the problem might pick up the phone all on its own.

“You ran away again,” Bull admonished in that deep Texas drawl.

36

Lily

Suddenly, Bull didn’t feel like a problem anymore. Each sweet syllable melted into my brain like molasses and I pressed my thighs together. All I wanted to do was to run over there and let him do whatever he wanted to me.

And he was calling me. Men like Bullnevercalled girls. Certainly not when the girl runs out on them and goes silent. So what did that mean?

My heart did a somersault. Immediately, I clamped down on the feelings.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” he told me. “Can’t seem to think of much else.”

I pressed my lips together,hard. But then it slipped out anyway. “I’ve been thinking about you, too.” It felt weird, telling the truth for a change.But this is wrong! I can’t put him at risk!

He started to speak again, but it sounded for a second like he was struggling to find the words. And then I realized what it was—he’d never made this kind of call before. Calling the girl after he’d slept with herwas precisely what hedidn’tdo. “I guess I wanted you to know that, um—“Wait...is he really getting tongue-tied?“I want to see you again. Today.”

He was reassuring me that it hadn’t been just a one-night stand. I wasn’t ready for the way my heart soared. He was changing. For me.

I looked around the bus. I’d escaped one prison in New York, but had I wound up just making another one for myself?

MaybeIneeded to change a little, too.

“Okay,” I said slowly. “Today.” Then I remembered my nightmare. “No, wait. Tomorrow. There’s something I have to do this afternoon.”

“Tomorrow,” he echoed. “Can you stop by the stables, about six? Everyone else will have headed out. We’ll have the place to ourselves.”

“How romantic!”

His voice dropped from a rumble to a low, seductive growl. “You want romantic, now? ‘ Cause last time I saw you, what you wanted was a good, hard—”

“Tomorrow!” I yelped and hung up. A wave of heat was sweeping through me, flushing my cheeks.

As soon as I stopped talking to Bull, the fear came back.What the hell am I doing?

But it was too late. For the first time, the feelings inside me were strong enough to overshadow the fear. I started to rationalize it away.It’s been two years and my uncle hasn’t found me yet. Maybe he’s stopped looking.