Met a Boy at Seventeen (Kellic)

Chapter 3

A/N: This chapter is nearly 5700 words long holy shit WHAT IS MY LIFE

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Chapter 3 - Vic - Kiss Me Again

As we’re driving to school, Mike tells me, “You know, what happened last night is probably a lot more common for Kellin than you think.”

I tighten my grip on the wheel. I don’t want to think about the possibility that that wasn’t the first time Kellin’s been held at gunpoint. I mean, I knew there was something more to him, but goddamn. Mike’s probably right.

I can hear him talking about something different now, but I’m not paying attention to what he’s saying. I’m thinking about Kellin, and his knife, and how I never saw that guy (Oli?) take the gun away from Kellin’s head. I assume that he did eventually, but my mind still gets stuck on that off-chance: What if Kellin died because of me? What if he did something and Oli pulled the trigger?

This fear is erased when I walk down the school hallway and see him standing by his locker. He’s talking to Justin, who looks up, spots me, and nods in my direction. (Damn, he never misses me, does he?) Kellin turns around, and there’s a weird look on his face that I think is indecision. Then he shakes his head, and it’s gone, so I keep walking.

During my first period class, I pull my phone out and, per Kellin’s request, look up Isaac Newton’s hair on Google Images. That was probably a bad idea, since now I can’t stop smiling. Hopefully my own hair, falling into my face, will disguise it and minimize the amount of weird looks I get.

This gets me to thinking: Was last night the start of something? Or are we just going to go back into our regular lives, not saying anything and pretending we don’t know each other? I want to talk to Kellin again, like I used to. But he could have moved on since when he left in May. He’s got friends now, which is more than I can say he had when we first met. The only reason we ever started talking was because we got assigned as partners for a project. Last night probably had more to do with the people attacking us—it seemed like Kellin knew them—than it had to do with me.

Craig told me once—back when we were friends—that I think too much and too deeply, that I think myself out of happiness by focusing more on what could be than what is. But sometimes I don’t know what is, so the only things I can think about are the what-ifs.

What if Kellin did move on?

What if he didn’t?

What if there’s another problem I don’t know about?

Mike told me yesterday that if Kellin didn’t feel anything for me, he wouldn’t have bothered to send me a note, especially not on something so random and trivial. The question is whether or not Mike knows what he’s talking about, which has yet to be determined.

I’m walking through the hallway, heading to my second class, when I feel someone grab my arm. I spin around. “What—”

In the span of less than a second, Kellin grabs me by my chin, leans forward, and kisses me on the lips.

My heart rate triples and my breathing nearly stops; I can’t believe what’s happening. I close my eyes, but a few moments later—way too soon—he pulls away, so I reopen them. He’s staring at me, smiling in satisfaction. Everything around us has gone quiet. “I missed you,” he whispers, before turning around and walking away.

I just watch him, wonderstruck. Automatically, I lift one hand up and let my fingers lightly touch my lips. Kellin glances over his shoulder and nods, as if to say, Yes, loser, it was real. “Meet me at the front door at dismissal,” he calls, then continues walking.