A Thousand Boy Kisses Page 3

  It was beating just as fast as mine.

  “It did, Rune. It was as special as special can be.”

  I felt Rune smile against my head, then I pulled back. I crossed my legs and placed the paper heart on the jar lid. Rune sat cross-legged too.

  “What will you write?” he asked. I tapped the pen to my lip as I thought hard. I sat up straight and leaned forward, pressing the pen to the paper:

  When I finished writing, I put the heart in the jar and closed the lid tight. I looked up at Rune, who’d been watching me all along, and proudly announced, “There. My very first boy-kiss!”

  Rune nodded his head, but his eyes dropped to my lips. “Poppymin?”

  “Yes?” I whispered. Rune reached for my hand. He started tracing patterns on the back with his fingertip.

  “Can I … can I kiss you again?”

  I swallowed, feeling butterflies in my stomach. “You want to kiss me again … already?”

  Rune nodded his head. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while now. And well, you’re mine and I liked it. I liked kissing you. You tasted like sugar.”

  “I ate a cookie at lunch. Butter pecan. Mamaw’s favorite,” I explained.

  Rune took a deep breath and leaned toward me. His hair blew forward. “I want to do it again.”

  “Okay.”

  And Rune kissed me.

  He kissed me and kissed me and kissed me.

  By the end of the day I had four more boy-kisses in my jar.

  When I got home, Mama told me that my mamaw had gone to heaven. I ran to my bedroom as quickly as I could. I hurried to fall asleep. Like she promised, Mamaw was there in my dreams. So I told her all about the five boy-kisses from my Rune.

  My mamaw smiled big and kissed me on my cheek.

  I knew this would be the best adventure of my life.

  Rune

  Two years ago

  Aged Fifteen

  Silence fell as she settled herself on the stage. Well, not everything was silent—the thunder of blood rushing through me roared in my ears as my Poppy carefully sat down. She looked beautiful in her sleeveless black dress, with her long brown hair pulled back in a bun, white bow positioned on top.

  Lifting the camera that was always around my neck, I brought the lens to my eye just as she positioned her bow against the string of her cello. I always loved to capture her at this moment. The moment she closed her big green eyes. The moment the most perfect expression drifted over her face—the look she wore just before the music began. The look of pure passion for the sounds that were to follow.

  I snapped the picture at the perfect time, and then the melody began. Lowering my camera, I focused simply on her. I couldn’t take pictures while she played. I couldn’t bring myself to miss any part of how she looked up on that stage.

  My lip hooked up in a small smile as her body began to sway to the music. She loved this piece, had been playing it for as long as I could remember. She needed no sheet music for this; Greensleeves poured from her soul through her bow.

  I couldn’t stop staring, my heart beating like a damn drum as Poppy’s lips twitched. Her deep dimples popped out when she concentrated on the difficult passages. Her eyes remained closed, but you could tell which parts of the music she adored. Her head would tilt to the side, and a huge smile would spread on her face.

  People didn’t understand that after all this time she was still mine. We were only fifteen, but since the day I kissed her in the blossom grove, aged eight, there had never been anyone else. I had blinkers on to any other girl. I only saw Poppy. In my world, only she existed.

  And she was different to any other girl in our class. Poppy was quirky, not cool. She wasn’t concerned with what people thought of her—she never had been. She played the cello because she loved it. She read books, she studied for fun, she woke at dawn just to watch the sunrise.

  It was why she was my everything. My forever always. Because she was unique. Unique in a town full of carbon-copy bimbos. She didn’t want to cheer, or bitch, or chase boys. She knew she had me, just as much as I had her.

  We were all we needed.

  I shuffled on my seat as the sound of her cello became softer, Poppy bringing the piece to an end. Lifting my camera again, I snapped a final shot as Poppy raised her bow off the string, a contented expression gracing her pretty face.

  The sound of applause made me lower the camera. Poppy pushed the instrument off her chest and got to her feet. She gave a small bow, then scanned the auditorium. Her eyes met mine. She smiled.

  I thought my heart might smash through my chest.

  I smirked in return, pushing my long blond hair back off my face with my fingers. A blush coated Poppy’s cheeks, then she exited stage left, the house lights flooding the auditorium with light. Poppy had been the last to perform. She always closed the show. She was the best musician in the district for our age group. In my opinion, she outshone anyone in the three age groups above.

  I once asked her how she was able to play like she did. She simply told me that the melodies poured from her bow as easily as she breathed. I couldn’t imagine having that kind of talent. But that was Poppy, the most amazing girl in the world.

  When the applause faded out, people began to leave the auditorium. A hand pressed on my arm. Mrs. Litchfield was wiping away a tear. She always cried when Poppy performed.

  “Rune, sweetie, we need to get these two home. Are you okay to meet Poppy?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I replied, and quietly laughed at Ida and Savannah, Poppy’s nine- and eleven-year-old sisters, sleeping on their seats. They didn’t much care for music, not like Poppy.

  Mr. Litchfield rolled his eyes and threw me a small wave, then turned to wake the girls to get them home. Mrs. Litchfield kissed me on my head, then the four of them left.

  As I made my way out of the aisle, I heard whispers and giggling coming from my right. Glancing over the seats, I spotted a group of freshman girls all looking my way. I ducked my head, ignoring their stares.

  It happened a lot. I had no idea why so many of them paid me so much attention. I’d been with Poppy for as long as they’d known me. I didn’t want anyone else. I wished they’d stop trying to get me away from my girl—nothing would ever do that.

  I pushed through the exit and made my way to the backstage door. The air was thick and humid, causing my black t-shirt to stick to my chest. My black jeans and black boots were probably too warm for this spring heat, but I wore this style of clothing every day, whatever the weather.

  Seeing the performers begin to pile out the door, I leaned against the wall of the auditorium, resting my foot against the white painted brick. I crossed my arms over my chest, only unfolding them to rake my hair from my eyes.

  I watched the performers getting hugs from their families, then, catching the same girls from before staring at me, lowered my eyes to the ground. I didn’t want them to come over. I had nothing to say to them.

  My eyes were still cast down when I heard footsteps coming my way. I looked up just as Poppy threw herself onto my chest, her arms wrapping around my back, squeezing me tightly.

  I huffed a short laugh and held her right back. I was already six feet tall, so I towered over Poppy’s five feet. I liked it though, how she fit perfectly against me.

  Inhaling deeply, I took in the sugary-sweet scent of her perfume and pressed my cheek against her head. After one last squeeze, Poppy pulled back and smiled up at me. Her green eyes looked huge under her mascara and light makeup, her lips pink and lush from her cherry lip balm.

  I skirted my hands up her sides, stopping when they cupped her soft cheeks. Poppy’s lashes fluttered, making her look all kinds of sweet.

  Unable to resist feeling her lips on mine, I slowly leaned forward, almost smiling as I heard that same hitch of breath Poppy expelled every single time I kissed her, in that moment just before our lips touched.

  As our lips met, I exhaled through my nose. Poppy always tasted like this, of cherry, the taste f
rom her lip balm flooding my mouth. And Poppy kissed me right back, her small hands gripping tightly to the sides of my black shirt.

  I worked my mouth against hers, slowly and softly, until I finally pulled back, laying three short, feather-light kisses on her swollen mouth. I took in a breath and watched Poppy’s eyes flutter open.

  Her pupils were dilated. She licked along her bottom lip before casting me a bright smile.

  “Kiss three hundred and fifty-two. With my Rune against the auditorium wall.” I held my breath, waiting for the next line. The glint in Poppy’s eyes told me that the words I hoped for next would spill from her lips. Leaning in closer, balancing on her tiptoes, she whispered, “And my heart almost burst.” She only ever recorded the extra-special kisses. Only the ones that made her feel her heart was full. Every time we kissed, I waited for those words.

  When they came, she almost blew me away with her smile.

  Poppy laughed. I couldn’t help but smile widely at the sound of the happiness in her voice. I pressed another quick kiss to her lips and stepped back to drape my arm over her shoulders. I pulled her close and rested my cheek against her head. Poppy’s arms wrapped around my back and stomach, and I led her away from the wall. As I did, I felt Poppy freeze.

  I lifted my head to see the freshman girls pointing at Poppy and whispering to each other. Their eyes were focused on Poppy in my arms. My jaw clenched. I hated that they treated her this way—out of jealousy. Most of the girls never gave Poppy a chance because they wanted what she had. Poppy said she didn’t care, but I could tell that she did. The fact that she stiffened in my arms told me just how much.

  Shifting in front of Poppy, I waited for her to lift her head. As soon as she did, I ordered, “Ignore them.”

  My stomach dropped as I watched her force a smile. “I am, Rune. They don’t bother me.”

  I tipped my head to the side and raised my brows. Poppy shook her head. “They don’t. I promise,” she tried to lie. Poppy glanced over my shoulder and shrugged. When she met my eyes with her own, she said, “But I get it. I mean, look at you, Rune. You’re gorgeous. Tall, mysterious, exotic … Norwegian!” She laughed and pressed her palm over my chest. “You have that whole bad-boy, indie-style thing going for you. The girls can’t help but want you. You’re you. You’re perfect.”

  I shifted closer and watched her green eyes widen. “And yours,” I added. The tension leaked from her shoulders.

  I slipped my hand into the hand still on my chest. “And I’m not mysterious, Poppymin. You know all there is to know about me: no secrets, no mystery.”

  “To me,” she argued, meeting my eyes once more. “You’re not a mystery to me, but you are to all the girls in our school. They all want you.”

  I sighed, beginning to feel pissed. “And all I want is you.” Poppy watched me, like she was trying to find something in my expression. It just pissed me off more. I linked our fingers and whispered, “For infinity.”

  With this, a genuine smile tugged on Poppy’s lips. “Forever always,” she eventually whispered in reply.

  I dropped my forehead to rest against hers. My hands cupped her cheeks, and I assured her, “I want you and only you. I have done since I was five years old and you shook my hand. No other girl will change that.”

  “Yeah?” Poppy asked, but I could hear the humor back in her sweet voice.

  “Ja,” I replied in Norwegian, hearing the sweet sound of her giggle wash into my ears. She loved it when I spoke to her in my native language. I kissed her forehead, then stepped back to take hold of her hands. “Your mama and daddy took the girls home; they told me to tell you.”

  She nodded her head, then looked up at me, nervously. “What did you think of tonight?”

  I rolled my eyes and crinkled my nose. “Terrible, as always,” I said dryly.

  Poppy laughed and hit my arm. “Rune Kristiansen! Don’t be so mean!” she scolded.

  “Fine,” I said, pretending to be annoyed. I slammed her into my chest, wrapping my arms around her back, trapping her against me. She squealed when I began kissing up and down her cheek, keeping her arms locked by her side. I dropped my lips to her neck and caught her breath hitch, all laughter forgotten.

  I moved my mouth up until I tugged on her earlobe with my teeth. “You were amazing,” I whispered softly. “As always. You were perfect up there. You owned that stage. You owned everyone in that room.”

  “Rune,” she murmured. I heard the happy tone in her voice.

  I pulled back, still not unlocking her arms. “I’m never more proud of you than when I see you up on that stage,” I confessed.

  Poppy blushed. “Rune,” she said shyly, but I ducked my head to keep eye contact when she tried to pull away. “Carnegie Hall, remember. One day I’ll be watching you perform at Carnegie Hall.”

  Poppy managed to free one of her hands and softly swatted my arm. “You flatter me.”

  I shook my head. “Never. I only ever say the truth.”

  Poppy pressed her lips to mine, and I felt her kiss all the way to my toes. When she drew back, I released her and threaded our fingers together.

  “We heading out to the field?” Poppy asked as I began leading her away across the parking lot, holding her just that little bit closer as we passed the group of freshman girls.

  “I’d prefer to be alone with you,” I said.

  “Jorie asked if we’d go. Everyone is there.” Poppy looked up at me. By the twitch of her lips, I knew I was scowling. “It’s Friday night, Rune. We’re fifteen, and you’ve just spent most of the night watching me play the cello. We have ninety minutes left until curfew; we should actually see our friends like normal teenagers.”

  “Fine,” I submitted and wrapped my arm around her shoulders. Leaning down, I placed my mouth at her ear and said, “But I get you to myself tomorrow.”

  Poppy put her arm around my waist and gripped me tightly. “I promise.”

  We heard the girls behind us mention my name. I sighed in frustration when Poppy briefly tensed.

  “It’s because you’re different, Rune,” Poppy said, without looking up. “You’re artsy, into photography. You wear dark clothes.” She laughed and shook her head. I pushed my hair back from my face, and Poppy pointed up. “But mainly it’s because of that.”

  I frowned. “Because of what?”

  She reached up and pulled on a strand of my long hair. “When you do that. When you push your hair back like you do.” I raised an eyebrow, bemused. Poppy shrugged. “It’s kinda irresistible.”

  “Ja?” I asked, before stopping to stand in front of Poppy, raking my hair back in exaggeration until she laughed. “Irresistible, huh? To you, too?”

  Poppy giggled and pulled my hand from my hair to wrap around hers. As we followed the pathway to the field—a patch of the park where the kids from our school hung out at night—Poppy said, “It doesn’t really bother me that other girls look at you, Rune. I know how you feel about me, because it’s the exact way I feel about you.” Poppy sucked in her bottom lip. I knew it meant she was nervous, but I didn’t know why, until she said, “The only girl that bothers me is Avery. Because she’s wanted you for so long and I’m pretty sure she’d do anything to make you hers.”

  I shook my head. I didn’t even like Avery, but because she was in our group of friends, she was always around. All my friends liked her; they all thought she was the prettiest thing around. But I never saw it, and I hated how she was toward me. Hated how she made Poppy feel.

  “She’s nothing, Poppymin,” I reassured her. “Nothing.”

  Poppy curled into my chest and we turned right, toward our friends. I held Poppy tighter the closer we got. Avery sat up as we approached.

  Turning my head toward Poppy, I repeated, “Nothing.”

  Poppy’s hand gripped my shirt, telling me she’d heard. Her best friend Jorie jumped to her feet.

  “Poppy!” Jorie called excitedly, coming over to pull Poppy into her arms. I liked Jorie. She was ditzy, rarely
thought before she spoke, but she loved Poppy and Poppy loved her. She was one of the only people in this small town who found Poppy’s quirkiness endearing and not just weird.

  “How are you, sweets?” Jorie asked and stepped back. She looked at Poppy’s black performance dress. “You look beautiful! So damn cute!”

  Poppy bowed her head in thanks. I took hold of her hand again. I guided us around the small fire that they’d lit in the fire pit and sat down. I leaned back against a log bench, pulling Poppy down to sit between my legs. She flashed me smile as she sat down with me, pressing her back against my chest and tucking her head against my neck.

  “So, Pops, how’d it go?” Judson, my best friend, asked from across the fire. My other close friend, Deacon, was sitting beside him. He tipped his chin in greeting, his girlfriend, Ruby, throwing us a small wave too.

  Poppy shrugged. “Fine, I guess.”

  As I wrapped my arm across her chest, holding her tight, I looked at my dark-haired friend and added, “The star of the show. As always.”

  “It’s only the cello, Rune. Nothing too special,” Poppy argued softly.

  I shook my head in protest. “She brought the place down.”

  I caught Jorie smiling at me. I also caught Avery rolling her eyes dismissively. Poppy ignored Avery and began talking to Jorie about class.

  “Come on, Pops. I swear Mr. Millen is a damn evil alien. Or a demon. Hell, he’s from somewhere outside of what we know. Brought by the principal to torture us weak young Earthlings with too-hard algebra. It’s how he gets his life-force; I’m convinced of it. And I think he’s onto me too. You know, the fact I know he’s an extra-terrestrial, because, Lord! That man keeps failing my ass and giving me the stink-eye!”

  “Jorie!” Poppy laughed, laughed so hard that her whole body shook. I smiled at her happiness, then I zoned out. I leaned further back against the log as our friends talked. I lazily traced patterns on Poppy’s arm, wanting nothing more than to leave. I didn’t mind sitting with our friends, but I preferred to be alone with her. It was her company I craved; the only place I ever wanted to be was with her.