Chapter 19... Kisses

                                    

                                          
(Madison's POV)
To say The Fall Ball was a mess, would be an understatement. The writing on Mason's wall in paint or... blood, those pictures of Chris and I, being proposed to in front of everyone by a guy I didn't love— I doubted things could have gotten anymore eventful. I just wondered who could have been behind it all. Was it one person or multiple people? Was it the masked creep or the station wagon driving nutcase?
                          
Whoever this person was, they were playing Russian Roulette with my social and literal life. I'd felt unsafe ever since I had... harmed Mason and those feelings had only worsened since then. Someone was obviously out to get me and I needed to know who. Not only that, but I needed to know why they were doing this to me.
                          
I got out of bed and went over to my dresser. In the bottom drawer, all the way at the back rested a bloody tire iron and a threatening note urging me to turn myself in. Were the note and weapon related to the masked creep and nutcase driver? Did the person who left me the weapon and note write those scary words on Mason's bedroom wall?
                          
Things had gotten out of hand a long time ago but I didn't want to think about it. I didn't want to deal with it so I had brushed it off. But now? Now I was ready to take action. The question was, how? 
                          
I couldn't necessarily go skipping down to the precinct. I was still a suspect in my brother's investigation, after all. I wondered if the day would come when the cops would just show up at my door and arrest me. I wondered if the day would ever come when what I did would become public knowledge and I would lose everything and everyone. There had been so many nights when I dreamt of cops raiding my house and finding Mason's lifeless and rotting body under my bed. Or maybe they'd find the murder weapon and note. I was scared out of my mind and I had good reason to be.
                          
It would have been so much easier to believe the writing on Mason's bedroom wall. 'He's Alive!' I wish that were true. But what if it was? Ever since I had read those words, I had been going back and forth in my head contemplating whether for not I should have believed them.
                          
On one hand I thought the person threatening me just wanted to toy with me. On the other hand, I thought someone was trying to tell me my brother was still in the land of the living. Then there was that deep, dark, crazy part of my brain that thought that maybe, just maybe, this was Mason's ghost haunting me as punishment for what I had done. 
                          
It was an accident but it didn't change the fact that he was dead. Me believing he was alive was just wishful thinking and deep down inside, I knew that.
                          
I looked down and noticed Carter's ring. I placed my hand out and stared at it. Then, I slipped it off my finger and shoved it into my drawer, along with the murder weapon and note. With everything going on, I didn't want that thing on my finger, reminding me that I had even more reason to stress.
                          
I stretched, glancing out my window. That glance then turned to a full-blown stare down. Chris was in his bedroom soaking wet and wearing nothing but a white towel to cover his lower half. He shook the water from his dark hair then ruffled it with his big hands.
                          
He then turned and saw me. I smiled a friendly smile and waved but he scowled at me and shut his curtains. I frowned. What was that about?
                          
I was not about to let him get away with ignoring me. I ran downstairs for the broom and came back up. I used it to reach his window and tap it. After a few hits, he opened it looking irritated. 
                          
"What?" 
                          
"Why are you angry with me?" 
                          
"I'm not angry. I'm disappointed," 
                          
"What?" I squinted in confusion.
                          
"The girl I like likes somebody else." 
                          
"Does she really?" I asked.
                          
Chris raised a brow "I don't know. Does She?" 
                          
It was then that I had realized that Chris was talking about me.  "You... you mean you like me?" I stuttered.
                          
Chris smiled. "Do you think I go around buying just anybody diamond bracelets?" 
                          
I chuckled. "I sort of thought my crush was one-sided. Who knew Detective blackmailer shared my feelings." 
                          
He laughed then shook his head. "It doesn't matter though. You're getting married." 
                          
"Yeah but not because I want to. My dad... he has a thing about black excellence and black superiority. And being of an oppressed race, I get it. But he sometimes takes things too far. He thinks pairing me with an accomplished black guy means we'd breed and create accomplished black babies. He scorns anyone who doesn't look like us and he oppresses them as his own sick way of giving them a taste of their own medicine." 
                          
Chris looks left then right. "You wanna come over?" 
                          
"Sure. But my dad's downstairs and I highly doubt he's going to let me willingly walk out the front door." 
                          
"That's fine. Windows work too." 
                          
"You don't honestly expect me to jump through a window do you?" 
                          
He laughed. "Fine. I'll come to you." He jumped through the window like a ninja and I was impressed. 
                          
"So, did you learn that in police training?" 
                          
Chris laughed nervously. "Something like that." 
                          
He walked over to my bedroom door and locked it. Then he went back over to me. I blushed, pointing to his lower portion. 
                          
"You forgot to put on pants."
                          
"Who needs pants when in the company of such a beautiful angelo." 
                          
I blushed even harder. "Speaking of angelo. Thank you for the bracelet . I love it." 
                          
"A gorgeous piece of jewelry for a gorgeous woman." He neared me and I could feel myself getting shyer by the second. He bent to my height and caressed my cheek. Then, he whispered, "I didn't get to tell you how mozzafiato you looked tonight." (breathtaking) 
                          
"I hope that's a good thing," I chuckled. 
                          
"It's more than good," he whispered. 
                          
He kissed my forehead. Then my cheek. Then my other cheek. Then my chin. Then, as he went for my lips, he stopped.
                          
"I'm going to steal you away from your boyfriend."
                          
I looked him in the eyes, feeling mesmerized. "You already have."
                          
With that, Chris grabbed me by the waist and lifted me. My legs wrapped around him securely and my arms found their way around his neck. His lips brushed against mine aggressively— almost as though he demanded that I kiss him. The next thing I knew, my lips were pressed up against his.
                          
As he switched from top lip to bottom, I savored the mint on his breath and the soft of his lips. One of my hands moved from around his neck to his damp hair. I yanked at it as he held me tighter and pulled me closer. Meanwhile, his hands traced up and down my sides, exploring my body.
                          
It was then that I had realized I was in my white Balenciaga sports bra and briefs. But that thought only lasted for about a second. I was too entranced by the taste of his lips and the feel of his hands to care. This man had hypnotized me, probably without even knowing it.
                          
He threw me on my bed, and crawled on top of me, taking a minute to observe my face. He gave me a small smile before going back in, pressing his tongue to the seam of my lips. I'd tongued once in my life and that was with Carter. I didn't like it because I felt it was something I would only enjoy doing if it were with someone I truly wanted. Was Chris someone I truly wanted? I decided to test it.
                          
I granted him access and he dove in immediately. Our tongues danced together as we kissed. Heavy breathing, tongue tagging, bodies, rubbing— was this what I had been missing out on? A small moan escaped my lips and I pulled away, feeling embarrassed. Chris looked at me confused.
                          
"What is it?" He asked.
                          
"I didn't mean to do that."
                          
He laughed. "You mean moan? Angelo, I'm going to make you moan a lot more than that."
                          
We went back to French kissing, and all I could think, was wow! I wanted that moment to last forever.