Wanderlust (Kellic)

Chapter 8

"Are you okay now?" Vic asks, his voice right next to my ear. "You know, because of your dream?"

I nod, breathing in his warm scent. “Yeah,” I say truthfully, my eyelids fluttering closed. “I’m okay now.”

Then I fall into a light sleep. When I wake up, it’s only four in the morning, and Vic is awake, too—I don’t think he’s slept at all since I found him a couple of hours ago. He’s biting his lip and clenching his jaw slightly, and his fingers are tangled in my hair, gripping it a bit tightly.

"Vic," I whisper, reaching up and resting a hand on his cheek. "Sleep."

"Can’t," he whispers back. "My brain won’t shut the fuck up."

I run my hand through his hair as he blinks a few times and fights just to keep his eyes open. “You’re tired,” I say. “Go to sleep.”

His eyes fall closed as he starts to give in. “Are you okay?” he asks softly. “I didn’t want…didn’t want something to happen.”

He stayed awake for me? To make sure I was okay?

"I’m fine," I tell him. "The nightmare’s gone now."

With that, he’s out almost instantly, and then I realize that his lips are only inches from mine. My heart beats faster at the thought of kissing him—and kissing him purely by choice, not for Bree—and I reason that since he’s asleep, he won’t even know it happened.

Do it, Kellin. You know you want to.

No, Kellin! You’re so fucking dumb! What the hell are you thinking?

Now’s your chance, Kell. Go for it.

No. Don’t.

I kiss him softly, pulling away after a few seconds that don’t last anywhere near long enough. Vic’s eyelids flutter slightly, and for a terrifying moment I think I’ve woken him, but then he falls back asleep, leaving me to sigh in relief.

Too far, Kellin. You’ve gone too far.

I close my eyes and bury my face in his chest, thinking back to my nightmare. I was back out in the city, searching for Vic. I found him in the same alley where I found him in real life, except in the dream, he was lying on the ground, dead. Then he disappeared, and so did everything else, until I was completely alone in the world.

But Vic’s arms wrapped around me and his soft breathing in my ear prove that I’m not. He’s here with me, in a hotel room in Colorado Springs. I hold onto that, hold onto him, until I drift asleep again.

—

"She found it," Vic announces the next morning. He’s sitting on the bed with his laptop, checking YouTube.

I get up from where I’ve been lying impatiently on my own bed and glance over his shoulder at the laptop. Sure enough, underneath the video is a single comment.

Great performance, Kell. (Who’s the pretty tan guy? I like him.) For dinner, go to a restaurant with your middle name in it.

I snort. “She called you a pretty tan guy.”

Vic shrugs. “I’ll take it. So what’s your middle name? Kellin-something-Quinn.”

I bite my lip. “Actually, it’s Kellin Quinn Bostwick. Quinn’s my middle name.”

"Oh," Vic says. "Any particular reason you go by that instead of Bostwick?"

I don’t tell him that it’s because “Bostwick” reminds me of my family, and I’d rather not be associated with them. I just say, “I like it better, I guess. I don’t know.” Then, to change the subject, I ask, “What’s your middle name?”