The Naughty List (The Naughty List #1)(40)
Author: Suzanne Young

Christian agreed to be quiet, but I couldn’t help but feel like he was mocking me. Like this was all just an excuse to be around me. I mean, I knew it was, but I also thought he wanted to help a little. It was pretty clear now that he didn’t.

We found theater eight, and not surprisingly, it was nearly empty. I let the door close, blocking out the harsh light of the hallway, and searched over the backs of heads. I found Isaac. He wasn’t really hard to spot. He wore his hair in a faux-hawk, not a huge one, but a short, brushed-up one. It was sort of cool. Very individualistic.

“They’re two rows up,” I whispered to Christian and glanced at the screen. It was opening with a murder. I sighed. So sad.

Christian nodded and took my arm, leading us to the back row. We got the corner seats, and I reached into my inside pocket. It struck me that this might just be my last SOS assignment. I swallowed hard, feeling a bit nostalgic. But then I thought of Aiden and how much more time I’d have for him. It calmed my nerves a little.

My camera was poised and ready, night scope on. I zoomed in. Isaac was whispering in the girl’s ear, looking sweet. It made my stomach turn. He’d been with his girlfriend, Angela, for close to a year. She was an absolute doll: perky and petite.

I used the camera to push in on the accomplice’s face. She was pretty enough—blond and busty. My eyes narrowed. She sort of reminded me of Chloe, but I tried to block that thought. The last thing I needed was to think of Chloe as an accomplice in a cheat. Because I knew exactly who she was after.

“Did you want me to move closer?” Christian whispered. He bent his head dangerously close to mine. His spearmint breath was hot on my cheek.

“Yeah,” I said, mainly to get some distance between me and his ridiculously attractive cologne. “Take the recorder and get some audio. I need to know what they’re talking about.”

I reached in my pocket and pulled out the mini-recorder, passing it to Christian. His fingers touched mine as he took it. I met his eyes.

Okay, so we were pretty close to each other’s mouths. His smelled like mint, mine, Jolly Ranchers. My breath was caught. He looked like he was about to kiss me. I didn’t move away.

He smiled. “Be right back. Get some good photos.” Then he winked and ducked down as he got up and crept down the aisle. I watched him, feeling my heart race.

Brooklyn Bridge! Would I have just let him kiss me? No. I … wasn’t attracted to him. I loved Aiden.

I shook my head and took aim at Isaac. He was a cheater. I’d never be like that. I wasn’t like that. Only, I found myself zooming in on Christian’s face… admiring it. Then, before I could begin any unwanted fantasy, I shut off the camera, got up, and walked out.

It took close to twenty minutes for Christian to meet me outside. He jogged up to the car as I leaned against it. I was chilled from the cooled air but thankful to now have my wits about me.

Christian stopped in front of me, panting. “What the hell, Tessa?” he said.

“Don’t say ”hell.’”

He stared at me for a minute, then, “Sorry. What in the h, e, double hockey sticks happened to you?” He grinned.

I couldn’t help but smile back. I liked the double hockey sticks thing. After an intense second of looking at each other, I exhaled and put my fists on my hips.

“I’m sorry, Christian,” I said. “But I can’t do this with you. And I’m done with SOS. I quit.” Wow. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever said the word quit in my life.

“You can’t,” he said. His eyes were wide. He took a step closer to me. He was now entirely too close.

“Tell everyone if you want,” I said, uncomfortable with his proximity. I didn’t care about SOS anymore. I needed to get my life back. Things had gotten too mixed up, and if the school hated me, fine. I couldn’t be perfect anymore. It was just too hard.

“Tessa,” Christian said softly, tilting his head. “I’m not going to tell anyone. I’m not trying to hurt you.”

My face was tingling. “Then what are you trying to do?”

Christian closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he focused on my mouth. “This,” he said, reaching out to put his palms on my cheeks, pulling me toward him. He pressed his lips to mine, forcefully, passionately.

And for a second, I stood there, shocked, stunned, guilty. His mouth felt so foreign to me that it was almost like they weren’t my lips he was sucking on. It was like an out-of-body experience. At least it was until he tried to put his tongue in my mouth.

“Stop,” I said, bringing up my hands to try to push him back. He was resistant at first, still going for it, so I pushed him hard enough to make him stumble. John Deere tractor! He’d just kissed me. He just… kissed me! “You’ve gone batty,” I shouted. “You can’t—”

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I couldn’t help it, Tess.” He licked his lips. Ew. Was he trying to still taste me? My stomach took a violent turn.

“I’m not going to tell Aiden about this,” I said, holding up my finger to him. “Because if I did, he would seriously cream you. But don’t effing touch me again. Got it?” The adrenaline pumping through my veins was making my entire body shake. And my mouth tasted like spearmint. Leaping lizards! I needed Aiden.

I turned around and yanked open the passenger door with a creak. I’d never kissed anyone other than Aiden. Ever. This had been a huge mistake. A big, ginormous mistake.

Christian ran around the car and got in, looking unsteady, sort of shaky. He should. He’d just assaulted my mouth with his. So what if his lips were pillowy soft? It was still wrong! He didn’t even ask.

We were silent as we drove back through the streets of Washington toward my house. I stared out the window, happy the night was over but worried about its consequences. Surely Christian would out the Smitten Kittens now.

After he’d turned on my street, Christian pulled into my driveway, bumping the curb on the way in. I looked over at him, not sure if he was mad or flustered. He killed the engine and turned to me, his eyes lowered.

“You were completely out of line,” I said. I should have slapped him. That’s what a real Smitten Kitten would have done.

“I know,” he said, his brows pulled together. “I’m really sorry. I promise it’ll never happen again.”

“It sure as heck won’t! Because we’ll never be alone together again. Understand?” This was the tone of voice I used when the Smitten Kittens were distracted while I was trying to teach a routine. I sounded very authoritative.