Viki

I follow him outside, unsure how I’m supposed to react or behave, but by this point my brain has apparently given up searching for sensible solutions. I’m far too distracted by his presence, his scent, and the fact that he is still holding my wrist as if it never occurred to him that I might object.

We stop in a dark corner of the alley just outside the backstage door. The cold night air bites against my skin, and I hug myself instinctively while Ox lights the cigarette he’s been carrying between his lips.

“So, what’s your deal?” he asks.

He takes long drag, with so much obvious enjoyment that for a brief moment I almost question whether smoking might actually be as wonderful as people make it look.

Then he exhales. Nop. It smells exactly as horrid as I always imagined.

“I do not have a deal. I just came to a concert with my friend.”

“Did you now?”

“Yes, I did,” I reply. It’s more than a little aggravating that he doesn’t seem to be taking me seriously at all.

He smiles as though I’ve said something terribly amusing and takes a step closer.

“And what does a proper girl like you do at a concert like this?”

I raise my chin. He is absolutely gorgeous up close, which is unfortunate because his attitude is so infuriating that I’m starting to resent his face for it.

“She’s getting ready to leave, as she has no taste for redundant questions or mind-numbing clichés.”

“Fair enough.”

For one hopeful moment, I think I’ve actually managed to get through to him.

Then he leans closer and boldly takes my chin between his fingers. My attention catches stupidly on the fact that his nails are painted black, the polish chipped around the edges. I look up at him and confirm that there really is violet hidden somewhere in those nearly black eyes.

That is my last coherent thought before his lips are on mine.

The world seems to turn inward. For a few seconds my mind is nothing but a confusing explosion of alarms and completely unfamiliar sensations. I’ve never been kissed before, certainly not like this, and I would have expected some sort of warning. Anything that might have given me time to decide whether I wanted it.

Instead, I feel his tongue against mine before I’ve even understood what is happening.

This is when I snap out of my stupid. Both my hands hit his chest and I push as hard as I can.

“How dare you!” I screech.

My voice comes out much louder and angrier than I intended, loud enough that the words bounce off the walls of the narrow alley.

Ox stares at me.

For some reason, that makes me even more furious. Maybe it’s because I can still feel his mouth on mine, or because my heart is beating so hard that it feels ridiculous, or because a small and deeply traitorous part of me is still trying to process sensations I absolutely do not want to be processing right now.

Then the corner of his mouth starts to lift.

That does it.

My hand connects with his cheek before I have enough time to reconsider. The slap is loud enough to shock even me.

He looks like he was right in the middle of formulating a thought, most certainly something smart-ass and asinine, but whatever it was never gets the chance to leave his mouth. He simply raises the hand holding his half-smoked cigarette to his cheek and stares at me.

I turn around and leave.

How dare he? How dare he? Oh my God, what did I just do?

I rush back into the tiny backstage room, interrupting a conversation I neither hear nor care about. Emma calls my name and reaches for my elbow, but I pull away and keep going because I can already feel tears burning behind my eyes.

The last thing I want is for any of them to see me cry.

It feels painfully typical, the proper little girl running away in tears over a stolen kiss, except it was my first kiss and I certainly hadn’t intended to share it with the world’s biggest asshole.

I don’t stop until I’m out of the building.

Ox

I’ll be fuckin’ damned.

She actually slapped me.