Hypothetical Heart (Farewell Fairwood #2)

Chapter 21

21

“ W ill you kiss me?” The question makes me jolt upward from where I’m lying in bed.

“What?” I ask, looking at the frazzled girl in front of me, the same one who just burst through my bedroom door.

“You heard what Madame Bacri said at practice today,” Winnie says, stepping further into my room. “If we’re going to have to kiss in front of hundreds of strangers anyway, I’d rather it not be for the first time.”

I shake my head, trying to clear my consciousness in order to process what she’s asking.

Winnifred Carter wants me to kiss her. But only because Madame Bacri suggested that we kiss at the end of our dance. She claimed it would give us a wow factor that no one else would have.

Winnie didn’t seem to be on board when she mentioned it during practice, which is why I had dropped the idea. I don’t want to kiss her if she doesn’t want to kiss me.

“You seriously want to kiss me right now?” I try to hold back my laugh.

“Yeah,” she answers plainly. “It doesn’t have to mean anything. It would strictly be practice.”

“Oh, so you think I need practice kissing?” I tease, and her cheeks flame. She mutters something in return, but it’s so quiet that I don’t hear. “What was that?”

“No, but I do,” she repeats the tiniest bit louder, looking down at the floor.

I sense the shift from joking to serious as I stand from my bed, making my way toward her.

“Look at me,” I tell her, and when she does, I ask, “Have you never been kissed before?”

“Don’t make this embarrassing,” she says, trying to look back down, but I reach out to grab her chin.

“There’s nothing embarrassing about it. It’s just a question.” I try to convey how sincere I am, but she still seems unsure. “Do you want to hear about my first kiss?”

She cringes. “No, not really.”

I’m relieved by her response because telling Winnie about the time I meaninglessly kissed a girl at a party during my sophomore year of high school is something I hope I never have to do. “Good, because I didn’t want to tell you.”

She laughs. “I’ve never kissed anyone.”

“And you have a good reason for that. What I don’t understand is why no one has ever kissed you.” Winnifred Carter is the picture-perfect girl, inside and out. Everything about her would make any man fall to his knees in front of her.

In fact, I’m considering it right about now.

“Well, I’m giving you the chance, and you’re making me feel pretty stupid, if I’m being honest.” Her throat bobs after she says it, which tells me how nervous she is.

“Do you want me to kiss you, honey?”

She hesitates. “I think it would be good practice.”

My head tilts as I look at her. “That’s not what I asked.”

“I don’t want you to kiss me if you don’t want to,” Winnie snarks.

“Who said I didn’t want to?” My brow furrows, my hand still holding her chin. “There’s nothing I’d rather do than kiss you, Win. I just want to make sure you’re okay with me being your first.”

“Who else would I want it to be?”

My fingers twitch against her jaw in response because all I want to do is pull her lips closer to mine.

“I choose not to think about the boys you’re crushing on,” I say, teetering the line of neutral and more-than-friends territory.

“Well, I’m thinking about kissing him.” She smirks.

Bile threatens to rise in my throat at the idea. She’s asking me to kiss her while picturing someone else? Seriously?

“Well, maybe you should go find him,” I reply in a tone I shouldn’t be using.

“I already did,” she counters, reaching up to cover my hand with hers.

Her wit is rare, and I’m thrown off by her shift from embarrassment to arrogance.

“What are you trying to say—” She covers my mouth with her hand.

“Shut up and kiss me.” She smiles, and as soon as her hand drops from my lips, I lean forward in search of hers.

My blood boils as I watch her step closer, her hands pulling on my shoulders, silently begging for me to come down to her height. I reach behind her, shutting the door and simultaneously pushing Winnie’s back against it.

I crouch to her height, and she makes the move of placing her lips over mine. Her initiative shocks me momentarily, but the second she smiles into her first-ever kiss, I know I’m done for.

My hand grabs her jaw as I try to gain control of my senses. This is a dream, one I’ve had on countless occasions throughout my entire life, and if I go through the motions of this kiss without getting a grip, I’m going to ruin it for myself.

This is no longer a regular ‘let’s practice’ kiss. We have turned it into a full-blown makeout, and Winnie is continuing to blow me away.

We pull away, our chests pressed together as they rise and fall. Her head falls back against the door, and she smiles.

“I’m not sure I believe that was your first kiss,” I say through a ragged breath, touching my finger to my lips as if I’d be able to feel the beauty of the moment still lingering from them.

“Is it supposed to be that good?” She asks.

“Only with you,” I blurt out.

Before she can reply, there’s a loud knock on my bedroom door, making both of us jump and move out of the way. “Logan!” My mom’s voice calls. “Is Winnie in there? I thought I heard her come through the front door!”

I help Winnie smooth her ruffled hair while she fixes mine, trying not to give away what we were just doing.

I flip on the light and then open the calculus textbook sitting on my desk and take a seat, motioning for Winnie to get the door.

“Hi, Wren.” She smiles as my mom enters.

“Sorry, Mom, we were just going over something from Calc.”

“That’s what you rushed over here for?” Mom directs her question toward Winnie. “Math help?”

I force myself not to wince at the fact I’m relying on Winnie’s lying skills right now.

“Yeah,” she answers. “I’ve been really hung up on what we’re working on.”

“Mhm…” she hums, keeping her lips sealed. “Well, I’ll let you keep working.”

“Yup,” Winnie says, sitting on my bed.

“And Logan?” My mom calls as she backs out of the room.

I turn back, raising my eyebrows in response. “Yeah?”

“You’ve got a little something.” Her voice is pointed as she wipes her hand along her own cheek before exiting the room.

“Oh my God.” Winnie looks like a deer in headlights. “You have lipstick on your face, Logan!”

“Holy shit.” I pull my phone out of my pocket and open my camera app. I’m met with the sight of light pink lipstick surrounding my mouth and on my cheek.

“I didn’t see it because the light was off,” she sighs. “Logan, I’m so sorry.”

“Hey.” I grab her hands, pulling her to stand in front of me. “It’s not your fault. I didn’t notice either.”

“How could you have?” Guilt is written all over her face, and it breaks my heart.

“It doesn’t matter, Win. My mom doesn’t even care.”

“I care,” she emphasizes. “I don’t want your mom to see me as…”

“See you as what? A whore?” The idea that my mom would see Winnie as anything other than the girl I grew up in love with is absolutely ridiculous. “You have to know that’s not plausible, Win.”

“I know, I know.” She walks toward the door, opening it and looking into the hallway—making sure it’s clear—before heading into the bathroom Jameson and I share. She comes back with a washcloth in her hand. “Let me at least get the lipstick off your face.”

“Have at it.” Whatever helps ease her anxiety.

Winnie grabs me by the back of the neck, pulling the chair I’m in closer to the edge of the bed before she sits in front of me. She traces my jaw with the washcloth, and I close my eyes momentarily at the warmth before I remember there’s something so much better to see.

Winnie Carter, in her natural ambiance, radiates the type of energy every person wants to be around, and her caring nature makes it so I can’t look away.

“Everything okay?” I ask when she pulls away.

She nods, and I brush a piece of hair out of her face.

“I promise my mom isn’t going to say anything bad about you. You know she never would. She loves you.” Winnie doesn’t reply; she only looks away from my gaze. “In fact, she’s probably downstairs squealing on the phone with Luke’s mom, saying this is all she’s ever wanted.”

“My mom would be just as giddy,” she says, smiling softly.

We both know how being together is like writing on the wall; everyone knows it’s bound to happen one day.

The only thing I can’t discern is whether Winnie still considers our kiss practice or not because I sure as hell don’t. But I have to contain my true feelings in order to account for hers.

“We don’t have to kiss at the end of our dance, you know.”

A small frown stretches across her face. “Do you not want to?”

“Don’t worry, Win, you’re a great kisser, A+.” I ease her fears quickly. “I’m just letting you know, in case it still makes you nervous.”

“Is it bad I kind of want to do it now?” Her words strike a chord in my heart.

“No, I wouldn’t mind kissing you again.”

“Good.” What once was a frown is replaced by the glowing smile I know and love.

Every new thing I learn about her is a new thing to love about her. That’s just the type of person she is.

“What are you going to tell your mom?” She breaks the tension that’s been looming over us.

“I’m not going to tell her anything, but she’s definitely going to bring it up.”

“Well then, what are you going to say when she brings it up?” Her face begins to flood with concern all over again.

“Relax, you’re not going to get banished from ever coming over again. She’ll probably just enforce a ‘no closed doors’ policy.”

She throws herself back onto my bed, and when she lands on her back, her legs swing up and hit me right where it hurts.

“God Dammit,” I groan, buckling over myself in my desk chair.

“What?” Winnie sits up, realizing what she kicked. “Oh my—” She’s cut off by her own laughter.

“Holy shit!” I lean back in my chair, trying to catch my breath. I point a finger at her. “This is not funny!”

“Shh.” She puts a finger on her lips. “Quiet down. If your mom hears you making those noises, she’s definitely not going to let me come over again.”

“Yeah, until she kicks down the door and finds both of us fully clothed while I hold my dick!” I seethe through my teeth.

She shushes me again before cringing. “Gosh, you’re so vulgar.”

“Vulgar? Seriously, Winnie? You read about people doing a lot worse than kicking each other in the balls.”

She laughs so hard that she’s now bent over beside me with her hands on her knees.

There’s another knock on the door, but this time it’s Jameson. “You two need to keep it do–wait, what the fuck happened?”

“She kicked me in the balls,” I gasp, and Jameson grimaces, even though he still looks confused.

“Okay, I think it’s time for me to leave,” she gasps, standing up straight.

“You want to kick me in the balls one more time before you go?” I ask sarcastically. “Or wait, how about you just chop my fingers off with a steak knife?”

“Don’t act like you’ve never done worse to me. Remember the scooters?” She smiles as she walks out the door. “Feel better. I hope your future children survive.”

Our banter makes me laugh, and I hear her laugh too as she trots down the stairs.