Met a Boy at Seventeen (Kellic)

Chapter 14

Chapter 14 - Kellin - Panic

The kids at school have the right idea, being scared of me. I would be, too. In fact, I already am.

But this fear escalates when I see Vic. He’s staring at me as if he’s just seen a ghost. I want to tell him, I didn’t mean what I said to Josh. I just needed him to go away. I’m not that kind of person. But it’d be a lie—I did mean what I told Josh. I meant every word.

So instead, I reach out and softly touch his face. “I’m sorry,” I say. “About that.”

He nods, the spooked animal look slowly fading from his features. “Do you think we should leave, or…?”

"Yeah," I say. "Yeah, let’s leave."

So we head back to the car, much less energetic than when we arrived. I want to make a joke of some sort, but I can’t stop thinking about Josh and his brother. So instead I just say, “Do you want me to drop you off at home?”

Vic nods absently. “Yeah. Yeah, that’d be—”

Before he can even finish his sentence, I pull him close and kiss him. He seems startled—and I don’t blame him—but then he reaches behind me and grips my hair, kissing me back just as fast. “I can stop if you want—” I begin, starting to pull away, wondering where the hell that came from.

"No, it’s okay," Vic breathes. "Really."

So we resume our position, my hands on his hips and his around my face and neck. I slowly move my hands backwards, and he takes the hint, climbing over to the driver’s seat and on top of me, straddling my thighs. In between kisses, he’s whispering, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” and instead of asking what he’s sorry for, I just whisper back, “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

His hands move down my back, his tongue tentatively poking out of his mouth and brushing against my lips. He wants to take control, but I won’t let him have it. I slide my own tongue out, meeting it with his more aggressively. He makes a noise—of pleasure or indignation, I can’t be sure—as my tongue wins and enters his mouth.

I start to grind up against him, making him moan louder. He pulls away, rasping, “Are we gonna take this to the backseat?”

"No," I say quickly. "No." Vic’s face falls slightly, so I add, "It’s like you said. There are children here."

That makes him smile—or, at least, it’s a hint of one—even though he knows that if we were alone, I probably would’ve given him the same answer.

"You should go," I say quietly. "I should take you home."

After a pause, Vic replies, “Okay.” He nods. “Yeah. Okay.”

His climb off of me is only awkward at first, but then he makes a move that results in his ass not only banging against the steering wheel, but also honking the horn, which plays that obnoxious trumpet song. “Ow!” he exclaims.

And, despite everything, I find myself bursting into laughter. After a few seconds, Vic does, too, falling into the passenger seat and announcing in between hysterical giggles, “That did not go to plan!”

Before I know it, there are tears running down both our faces and an actual physical pain in my chest. “I—can’t—breathe!” I gasp.

Vic’s laughs start to morph into coughs. “I’m dying,” he proclaims. “Why the hell is this so funny?”

Still hyperventilating, I choke out, “Your ass—honked—the fucking—horn.”

—

Even after we’ve calmed ourselves down enough for me to adequately drive, we’re both still pretty unstable, so we fight to stay silent and keep that silence as solemn as possible. But we all know the unwritten law of the universe—everything is funnier when you’re not supposed to laugh. So it happens that if one of us so much as looks at the other, one of us giggles, and then we’re off again. This happens three times.