Second Shot K.O.K (The Brooklyn Bears: Season 1)

4. College

FOUR

COLLEGE

Koa

S itting under the stars with a drunk Nalani on my lap, she’s giving me kiss-me eyes … again.

“Ku’uipo, I’m not kissing you for the first time and end up being the only one who remembers it.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing.”

“I’ve got an idea.” I brush her hair away from her eyes.

“Yeah?”

I whisper in her ear, “Been dreaming about your lips for years.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a tease?” she asks.

“Nope,” I answer her honestly, giving her what I expect back.

She eyes me suspiciously.

“Ask me anything; you’ll get the truth. You need to do that, and I understand. I can tell you over and over I’m not him, and I will if that’s what you need. But I’m gonna do more than that. I’m gonna show you.”

“I’m not putting that on you. It’s not your responsibility to fix what he broke in me.”

“You say that like it’s a burden.” I shake my head. “It’s not. It’s a fucking privilege.”

She licks her lips and looks at mine. “You keep saying these things and expect me not to want to kiss you?” She curls up to a seated position. “I should head back, because the longer I sit on you”—she wiggles her ass against my semi—“the more I’m going to want more than a kiss.”

“You’re staying here tonight.”

“Really?” She acts like I’m kidding.

“Gonna wake up with you in my bed, in my arms, kiss you, and?—”

“You won’t kiss me when I’m drunk for the first time”—she holds up her hand when I start to explain why again—“don’t you even try kissing me before I brush my teeth.”

Holding back a laugh, I watch as she stands up and holds out her hand.

“You’re staying with me tonight because my toothbrush is not here.”

I stand and take both her hands, walking backward toward the French doors of the house. “I have extras and no roommates in my room.”

“Extras, huh?” she asks.

“Mom sends them in bulk.” I step back across the threshold. “She’s a dental hygienist. The answer to the question you’re not asking but want to”—I swoop her up—“is no hook-up has ever stayed the night with me.”

“Them’s the rules,” Dash says as we walk past him and Lauren in the kitchen. “They’re not yours, they don’t stay.”

I watch Lauren cross her arms and stick her nose in the air.

“Lauren, you think you can get Sofia back to her and Nalani’s dorm?” I ask as we hit the bottom of the stairs.

“Sure thing,” she answers.

“Why isn’t Dash committing?” Nalani asks.

“It’s not Dash.” I climb the stairs.

“Oh, wow.”

I can’t help but laugh. “You were hell-bent on playing the field, too.”

She yawns. “Her prerogative.”

“It is.” I walk us into my room, kicking the door shut behind us, then move and set her on my bed. “You are so beautiful, ku’uipo.”

“You, too.” She smiles and begins looking around. “Your room’s so big and clean.”

“The dorms suck.” I head over to the closet and grab her a shirt to sleep in. “Move into KET next semester.”

“That’s the plan.” She stands up and pulls off the sweater I helped her put on.

Then your sophomore year, move in with me , is what I’d like to say, but she’d think it’s a bit premature.

When she lifts her shirt over her head, I freeze. She looks at me as she unbuttons her jeans and shimmies them down.

Fuck.

Bending, she picks up her clothes and walks over to drape them over the chair. “My swimsuits are skimpier than this.”

“That may be true, but you in red lace, in my bedroom …” I make a hand gesture. “Mind blown.”

“Mind blown, huh?” She mimics my movement.

“The realization that my imagination is shit has me second-guessing myself. Beautiful doesn’t even come close to describing you.”

She takes the tee-shirt and pulls it over her head. It swallows her up. Only then do I step forward and help her pull her long, thick, jet-black braids from the collar.

She swallows hard and asks, “Do you have a hair tie?”

I take her hand. “Right this way.”

We walk out of my room, just as Tiny and the two chicks he’s been playing with for the past week crest the stairs.

“You two have a great night.” He winks as they walk by and down the hall.

“Back at you,” Nalani calls to them as we cross the hall and into the bathroom.

Looking around, she states, “This is clean, too.”

“Secret?” I squat down and open the cupboard, pulling out my bathroom tote.

“Tell me all of them.” She smiles as I hand her an unopened toothbrush.

“The four of us chip in and have someone clean the bathrooms and kitchen once a week.” I stand and open the medicine cabinet, grab the paste, my brush, and two hair ties. “Another secret: I can’t sleep with my hair down, so …” I pull my hair up into a bun then move to gather her braids and place them into a ponytail.

“You’re insanely sexy.” She turns on the water and wets her toothbrush. “Always were. Even when your father was teaching me how to surf, it was hard paying attention when you were out there.” She closes her eyes. “I can’t believe he tricked me into thinking you wanted him and I together.”

I pull my shirt over my head and toss it in the hamper. Then I grab two washcloths from my shelf and set them on the counter. “Always hated that saying—everything happens for a reason. When I realized it was actually you and not some doppelganger, I didn’t hate it as much.”

A smile creeps up her flawless face, and she opens her eyes. When she slaps her hand over them, I bark out a laugh.

She elbows me. “You could have given me a heads-up.”

I turn on the water. “Just giving you the same as you gave me.”

“You have tattoos?”

“No,” I answer.

She pulls her hand away from her face. “You totally do.”

I squirt toothpaste on her brush then mine. “Where I come from, this is called kākau uhi.”

She looks over my left arm from my shoulder to my wrist.

“When I told my father I wanted a tattoo, he told me if I was going to mark my body, it needed to be done traditionally.” I chuckle. “When he took me, it wasn’t to a shop, and there were no guns or needles. It was to the mountains and done by a priest who only uses the traditional method called tapping.”

She lifts my arm with one hand and skates her fingertips down my side, where I had more work done this past summer.

“I plan on getting my leg done next.”

“It’s stunning.”

“Each pattern represents something about our culture.” A yawn escapes me.

“Tired?”

“I have practice at seven and a game at four.” I hold up my toothbrush, and she taps hers against mine.

When we’re finished brushing our teeth and washing our faces, we head back across the hall.

I wave my hand toward the bed. “My lady first.”

She climbs in. It’s sexy. “I want a tour.”

I slide in beside her. “Not much to the place. Four bedrooms and?—”

“Of your body, your art, our cultural meaning behind it.”

Pulling her against me, I tell her, “If I wake up tomorrow and this hasn’t been a dream, I’ll give you whatever you want.”

She yawns and whispers, “Same.”

A few minutes later, she looks up at me. “I’m not that drunk.”

I press my lips to the top of her forehead. “None of our firsts are going to be distorted by anything, not drink or exhaustion. After that, I promise wild, drunken make-outs and dirty, sloppy sex anytime you want it.”

I feel her smile against my chest, and then … “What the …? Is your nipple pierced?”

I chuckle when I think about how shocked she’s going to be when she sees what else I’ve pierced.

“Let’s sleep. Tomorrow, I’ll give you the grand tour.”

“You’re sleeping in jeans?” she asks.

“Tonight, I am.”

I wake to Nalani scampering off the bed and am blinded by the light when she throws the door open.

“Nalani, you okay?” I hop out of bed just as she throws up.

Fuck.