It's soft. Tentative. Sweet. Her breath is shaky and her lips barely part, but it's a kiss, none-the-less, and I fucking savor it. It's not the first time we've kissed since everything turned ugly, not even the first time she's initiated it, but this kiss is different. This kiss feels less like hunger and more like heartache, like she's quenching a thirst by trying to remember how to drink.
Tiny sips.
That's all she takes.
Little pecks against my lips before she pulls back away.
She stares at me again.
Five… ten… fifteen seconds.
And then she turns around.
She settles back into my arms, lounging on the blanket between my legs as she stares up at the sky in silence, watching the fireworks with the same fearlessness she looked at me with.
I'm not the only one of us who knows how to play with fire, I think… and I'm not the only one who enjoys it, either.
"You want to know what I think about when I look at you, Karissa?"
"What?"
"I think there's nobody else like you in the world."
The fireworks seem to go on forever.
Karissa says nothing else to me.
Not at the park, not on the walk to the car, and not on the way home.
The silence isn't strained like it usually is when she doesn't talk. She's right here beside me, completely at ease. I don't know if it's because she's too damn drunk to remember or if she just finally forgot she hates me.
I lead Karissa to the front door of the house when we get there, my hand pressed against the small of her back. She steps up onto the small porch, waiting, as I dig for the right key. It takes a moment as I fumble with the new locks, a strange sensation creeping up my back, prickling my spine.
The hair at the nape of my neck stands on end.
Key halfway into the lock, I freeze as the feeling consumes me, my muscles taut as I strain my ears. There's somebody there. Carefully, I turn my head, slowly surveying the dark neighborhood around us, looking and listening, but I see nothing.
Nothing but blackness.
I'm not a fool, though. The darkness can't trick me. Just because I don't see it doesn't mean it's not there. I sense it, feel it crawling across my skin.
Somebody's watching us.
Somebody's watching me.
Somebody's watching her.
I scan the area again, waiting for something to happen, for someone to appear out of the shadows, and damn near jump when someone touches me. My eyes dart to the hand on my arm before I look at Karissa, seeing her eyeing me peculiarly. "Is something wrong, Naz?"
Yes, I think.
Something is definitely wrong.
Somebody is here.
I glance behind me again, giving one last look at the street, before turning back to her, offering a small smile so not to alarm her. She's too drunk to feel it right now, I think. "It's nothing."
I turn the key, finishing the last lock, and push open the front door. I motion for her to go ahead of me inside, trying to shove down those feelings of being watched as they nag at me. Karissa doesn't listen, though, wavering on the porch, before she steps closer until she's almost flush up against me. I stare down at her, watching as she slowly licks her lips.
She reaches up on her tiptoes but I stop her, palming her cheeks, cradling her face in my hands. I hold her there, her lips a few inches from mine, as I stare into her dark eyes, looking for some sign of uncertainty.
"You're drunk," I say seriously. "You don't know what you're doing."
"I know exactly what I'm doing," she whispers. "I'm just a little drunk. I'm not an idiot. I know who you are... what you are... I know what you've done. And I know what I'm doing, too. I know what I want."
"And what's that?" I ask. "What do you want?"
She reaches up and grabs my wrists, pulling my hands away from her face. She's not strong enough to force me to move them, but I don't resist. She pushes back up on her tiptoes, pressing her lips to mine as her eyelids flutter closed.
I kiss her back, but I keep my eyes open.
That feeling won't stop, won't go away, building and building inside of me. I'm paranoid and starved, too damn exhausted to deal with it. As soon as I try to pull away from Karissa's lips, she wraps her arms around my neck and pushes me toward the open doorway, into the foyer. I step backward, finally breaking the kiss, and look out at the street again suspiciously.
A shadow moves in my peripheral.
Maybe it's my imagination.
Maybe I just need some fucking sleep.
My head turns that way, but I see nothing in the darkness, nothing but trees and grass, cars and mailboxes. Fireworks pop off in the distance, filling the air with loud cracks like far away gunshots, causing wounds that Karissa soothes when she kisses me again.
Fuck it.
I slam the door closed, tinkering with the locks, making sure every one of them is secure before giving her my undivided attention. Whatever's out there, be it friend or foe, the shadows or the wind, isn't going to get inside and hurt what I have right here.