Kissing Lessons Read online

  Kissing Lessons

  By Susan Laine

  A Before… and After Story

  A kiss is just a kiss. It doesn’t have to mean anything. Does it?

  At seventeen, Merry’s never been kissed. Since he doesn’t want to disappoint his prom date, he asks his more experienced best friend, Boone, for some pointers. Surprisingly, Boone agrees to give him a hands-on lesson.

  But they have no idea what they’re getting into.

  They explore hundreds of ways to make out, but somehow it isn’t enough. A week later, they’re back together for another session. This time things go further than either of them planned, and their relationship becomes awkward and uncomfortable.

  Have they learned enough to salvage their friendship and help it evolve? Their lessons have come to an end. They can either part ways forever… or share a true love’s kiss.

  Table of Contents

  Blurb

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  More from Susan Laine

  About the Author

  By Susan Laine

  Visit Dreamspinner Press

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  “HEY.” A snap of fingers startled Merry out of his reverie. “Still with me?” The cadence of Boone’s amused voice smoothed Merry’s ruffled feathers like silk. But he didn’t want to be placated so easily.

  Merry growled angrily and fussed, waving his arms about in front of him to dissuade his best friend from taunting him. “Yeah, I’m fine. Fuck off.”

  With renewed focus, Merry gripped his game controller tighter and set his sights on the TV screen—only to see that the drag race in the speed game was over, with Boone’s car over the finish line while Merry’s trailed behind. Boone had won, as usual. It never seemed to matter whether Merry paid attention or not.

  “Shit.” Merry sighed, not really knowing the reason why. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” Boone was always kind, always understanding, always forgiving. The best of men—although technically at seventeen they had not quite reached manhood yet. Boone would be eighteen nine days ahead of Merry, and he never forgot to rub that in with his typical “I’m older and therefore wiser” routine.

  “You’ve been in a weird mood for weeks,” Boone added. “Wanna talk about it?”

  “No.” Merry scowled and pouted, staring at the unmoving screen, willing the game to continue on pure brainpower alone. Naturally it didn’t. “You cheated. You must’ve used a secret shortcut or something. Let’s play again.”

  “No.”

  That was an unusual word for Boone, who typically accepted every proposal, suggestion, or dare in the book with a grin. Merry stared at his best friend in bewilderment. “What?”

  “Look. I’m tired of this funk of yours. Either you tell me what’s bothering you or I fetch a few ice cubes from the freezer and ask again, less nicely.”

  Merry swallowed. He knew full well Boone would carry out his threat. He wasn’t violent or vindictive. But he hated being in the dark about anything, especially stuff involving his best friend. Plus Boone was rarely, if ever, in a bad mood, so naturally everyone noticed if Merry was. Next to Boone’s serenity, anyone else’s moods, including Merry’s, resembled a maelstrom.

  “I… I don’t wanna talk about it.”

  “Tough. Now spill.”

  Merry really didn’t want to have this discussion. “It’s nothing, I swear.”

  Boone snorted. “Whatever it is, it’s clearly gotten under your skin. C’mon, Merry. Talk to me.” He slung his arm over Merry’s shoulders and squeezed gently, shaking him a bit. “You can tell me anything.”

  Merry hesitated, worrying his lower lip, practically chewing it raw. For over a month, he’d dreaded having this conversation. No amount of preparation or rehearsal in front of a mirror had helped. He didn’t want to lose his best friend, the only guy in the world who didn’t laugh at his name, which was a perfectly valid Welsh name. But he’d gotten it thanks to his schoolteacher mom who loved The Lord of the Rings. No one would believe how many “randy buck” jokes he’d been subjected to over the years whenever he’d shown the slightest bit of interest in anyone.

  Naturally, the ridicule had kept him alone and inexperienced. Which brought him to the problem at hand.

  “Merry, buddy, c’mon…,” Boone cajoled.

  “Iwantyoutoteachmehowtokiss.”

  A deafening silence fell in the room. They’d been playing car-racing games on Xbox in Boone’s bedroom. Boone’s parents weren’t home much and didn’t care about the racket of a video game when they were, but Merry’s dad was a night nurse and couldn’t handle much noise during the day when he slept, even on the weekend. “I-I’m sorry, but I… I didn’t quite catch that. Come again?” Boone’s stunned tone was to be expected.

  Merry swallowed, hoping to get saliva into his dry throat. “I said”—he enunciated slowly and steadily—“I want you to teach me how to kiss.”

  Boone stared at him, blinking fast with his mouth hanging open. “Yeah, that’s what I thought I heard.”

  Merry gulped, sensing he’d stepped over an invisible friendship line, and he rushed to say, “Never mind. Forget it. Forget I said anything.” He gripped the game controller again and steadfastly stared at the TV screen. “Let’s play another round.”

  “No. I want to know what brought all this on.”

  Merry grimaced at Boone’s calm tone. He took a deep breath and collected his wits. “Senior prom is in three weeks. I’m supposed to take Sara, but… I’ve never kissed a girl. How am I supposed to kiss her at the end of the night? Like I’m not already a laughing stock with everybody at school.” He shook his head fiercely. “No. I’ve decided. I’m not going.”

  “Whoa. Back up.” Boone removed his arm from around Merry’s shoulders, and Merry shuddered at an icy sense of rejection in the withdrawal. “Okay, yeah. That’s a, uh… a legitimate concern. No guy wants to look like an inexperienced, slobbering moron on a date.”

  Merry winced. “It’s not a date. Exactly. It’s just a… a dance. But I wanna end the night properly, with her having a good memory instead of me acting like an idiot.”

  “Yeah, I get that.” Now that Boone had had a moment to assimilate the news, he sounded more like his old self. “But… why me? Look, I’ve got like a gazillion girls’ numbers, and I can call any of them, and I’m sure they’d be more than happy to be your kissing guinea pig.”

  “No.” Merry frowned and bristled at the mere idea. “I don’t trust anyone else not to blab my embarrassing secrets to the whole school. Heck, the whole town. It has to be you.” He chanced a glance at Boone to gauge his mood. “You’ve kissed tons of girls, so you know how.”

  Boone licked his lips, and his gaze wandered around the room. “Yeah, but… c’mon, it’s you.”

  “So?” Merry got more and more anxious. “I’m, what, totally unkissable?”

  “Don’t be stupid, Mer.” Boone shoved him on the arm, frowning in irritation. “You’re my best friend. And we’re both….” His voice faded, but Merry heard what was left unsaid. We’re both guys. “I mean, don’t you wanna… kiss a girl instead? Sara’s a girl.”

  Merry got the gist of Boone’s excuses. “Forget it. Just forget it.” He pushed the button on the controller to start up the game again. Maybe with the roar of revving engines, neither of them would hear the growing awkwardness in the room.

  But Boone paused the game again with his controller.
“Mer, don’t be like that.”

  “Like what?” Merry shot back with an angry hiss.

  Boone sighed in defeat, slumping a little next to Merry. “Fine. Whatever. Let’s just get it over with.”

  Merry bristled. “Don’t bother. I’m clearly not kissing material.” He hated he’d let Boone get under his skin. But this whole idea had been messing with his head for months. Boone’s reluctance clinched the deal. “I’m not going to the prom. And that’s that.”

  “You’re going, even if I have to tie you up, throw you in the trunk of my car, and drag you there myself.” Boone’s determined growl was kind of sexy. He had a hoarse tone of voice that could thrill anyone who heard it. “You missed junior prom ’cause of that super-freaky cold of yours. You’re not missing senior prom too. No fucking way will I be forced to endure that hellhole on my own.”

  At least Merry had the comfort of knowing he and Boone were on the same page in that respect. Neither of them had ever had much good to say about high school or their fellow students. In truth, the only constant in their lives was each other. Everything else was temporary. They planned to go to college together, be roommates during and maybe even after, and be best friends for the rest of their lives.

  “You’re acting childish,” Boone said in his most irritating tone, the one that said he was older and knew better. “I’m offering to help here. You gonna turn me down after the noise you raised over this?”

  Merry no longer knew if he wanted to say “fuck you” or “fine, let’s do this.” Finally he caved—he had to do this—and said, “Okay.”

  “Cool.” But Boone’s tone suggested the situation was anything but cool.

  “But I want you to do this right,” Merry insisted as Boone shifted on the floor to face him. Confusion twisted Boone’s features. “I mean,” Merry explained. “I don’t want a rushed little smooch. I know what kissing’s supposed to be. Lips, perhaps some tongue. So if you’re thinking of showing me nothing more than how to press two mouths together….”

  “Man, you’re a demanding little prick, aren’t you?” But Boone sounded amused, so Merry let it slide. “Fine. I’ll be sure to give you only my A game.”

  “You’d better,” Merry murmured under his breath.

  Now that they were facing each other, still sitting on the floor, leaning against Boone’s queen-size bed, Merry had doubts. But he’d be damned if he was going to let his fears ruin his life.

  Boone was a sexy guy. There was no denying that fact. Like that actor who played Thor, Boone rocked the gorgeous, easygoing blond god thing, complete with twinkling green eyes, full lips with a wicked self-confident smile, and the tall, fit, muscular body of an athlete without being beefy or stocky. Merry had noticed his best friend’s good looks on a neutral level, of course, the same way one observed beauty in nature.

  Merry didn’t think he was too far behind, not that he would ever admit it out loud. He was a swimmer, so he had muscles of his own, along with a lean, lithe physique that showed not an ounce of fat. Unlike Boone, though, Merry had dark hair, blue eyes, and virtually no stubble. Boone sometimes grew a tiny beard just to rub it in that he could, but he usually shaved it off quickly, claiming he didn’t really like scruff on his face.

  Without warning, Merry moved to sit in Boone’s lap, straddling him—and bumped his chin on Boone’s nose.

  “Son of a bitch!” Boone exclaimed, holding on to his face.

  “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” Merry repeated his apology over and over, trying to peek through his best friend’s fingers to see if there was blood.

  “Shit, I’m seeing stars, and my face fucking stings,” Boone muttered, rubbing his poor nose. Merry tried to move off, but Boone stopped him, blinking owlishly at him with watery eyes. “No you don’t. After that, we’re fucking doing this.”

  “I’m sorry, B,” Merry whispered with utter remorse. This wasn’t at all how he’d hoped this would go.

  Boone chuckled. “Well, things can only get better from here on in, right?”

  Merry smiled in relief. Boone always knew what to say at the exact right time. That was a big reason why Merry admired and adored Boone, his best friend in the whole wide world.

  Chapter 2

  “SO… WHAT do I do?” Merry fidgeted in place.

  Over the course of many years, since they were kids, sitting in each other’s lap wasn’t the weirdest thing they’d ever done. Boys wrestled over the last chip, fought over the remote, or just baited each other till someone caved and threw a punch.

  Nonetheless, Merry had moved to Boone’s lap because it seemed like the best position for the exercise. Now he felt vulnerable, exposed, and so nervous he might have a breakdown.

  “You don’t do a damn thing,” Boone replied. “I do first; you do second. Got it?”

  “Yeah, okay.” Merry nodded frantically, sweating bullets over something he’d thought would be a breeze with someone he knew and trusted, and who’d done this sort of thing before. His hands fluttered at his sides, and he didn’t know what to do with them.

  Finally Boone sighed, gripped Merry’s hands, and placed them on his shoulders. “Just to anchor you, Mer. You feel like you’re about to fly off the handle. Calm down. I’m not gonna bite your head off—or your tongue. Relax.” Merry chuckled awkwardly at Boone’s attempt at humor, not feeling the slightest bit at ease. Boone shook his head, giving Merry a fond, sympathetic look. “Okay. Here we go.”

  Merry watched in sheer terror as Boone moistened his lips, the pink tip of his tongue peeking out swiftly. Then Boone leaned closer until he was a hair’s breadth away from Merry, who felt like his heart was about to burst.

  Boone pressed his mouth over Merry’s. His lips were soft, warm, and a bit wet. Merry felt pressure but not much else. Then Boone withdrew.

  “See? That wasn’t so bad, now, was it?” To Boone’s question, Merry could only shake his head. Boone smiled. “Good. Now you.”

  Merry nodded several times, blinked as his vision grew hazy, and licked his lips to get them wet too. But his mouth was dry as a desert, and a need to cough tickled his throat. But by some miracle, he managed to avoid a fit of either nerves or nausea.

  Leaning in and hoping to avoid bumping anything tender this time, Merry kept his eyes open so he could see where to aim. He puckered his lips and pressed them against Boone’s. Boone’s eyes were shut, but Merry merely blinked. He had no idea what to do. Should he… part his lips? Should he push forward more? No, then they’d clash teeth and there’d be blood. Should he try to bring his tongue into play? No, that might be discourteous if Merry wasn’t supposed to be doing that.

  Suddenly Boone pulled back and laughed. “Mer, what are you doing?”

  Merry went stone-cold rigid. “Wh-what’d I do wrong?”

  “You’re thinking too much. Just let go. Focus on how it feels, not what you’re supposed to be doing.” Merry winced at Boone’s words, almost verbatim with his own thoughts. “Okay, that was the closemouthed kiss. Nothing touches but the lips. So… how was it?”

  “Uh….” Merry struggled to find the right way to describe the experience. “Um… it was okay?” When Boone cocked his head, seeming stumped, Merry shrugged, puzzled as to how to say what he thought. “I mean, it was nice but… it was kind of like the kiss I get on my forehead or cheek from my mom when she says good night.”

  Boone’s eyebrows rose to his hairline, and he chuckled in disbelief. “You still get a kiss good night from your mom? Man, that’s so cute.”

  Merry frowned and harrumphed. He pursed his lips and crossed his arms over his chest in a defensive manner. “If I tell her to stop, she does it in the morning too.”

  “But I’m usually around in the mornings when she makes breakfast for both of us.”

  “Now you know why I let her give me a kiss before I go to bed.”

  Boone laughed so hard he actually threw his head back and had tears streaming down his face. “Shit, your mom’s the best.” He wiped his eyes with the bac
k of his hand and calmed down. “Okay, so that’s two kisses you now know. The forehead kiss, given by family or friends, and the closemouthed kiss, which doesn’t have to lead anywhere. Sexual, I mean. The longer you linger, the deeper your feelings probably are for that person. I’m guessing here. Does that make sense?”

  Merry shrugged. “I guess.” He started to feel like he was at school, being lectured on safe sex by a boring adult who probably hadn’t fooled around since the Bush administration. “Are there more kinds of kisses?”

  Boone nodded, a wicked grin on his lips. “Hell yeah.”

  Now Merry was nervous again. “Like, uh, how many are there?”

  “Dozens, hundreds, maybe more.” Boone shrugged, appearing cool and super sexy and nonchalant, as though nothing fazed him. “Guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

  Merry gurgled something unintelligible, his eyes widening in shock. All this time he’d assumed, falsely apparently, that there were only, like, two kisses: with or without tongue. Now dozens? Hundreds? What the hell had he gotten himself into? And was he supposed to master all of them to kiss a girl he didn’t even know that well or like that much? Shit, he was doomed.

  “Okay. Next up….” Boone left the sentence hanging, charging the air between them until the hairs on Merry’s nape rose.

  Boone leaned in and caressed the tips of their noses together. It tickled.

  Merry sighed and pulled back, rubbing his nose in displeasure. “I know what that was. An Eskimo kiss. That’s not what I wanted to learn.”

  Boone winked at him. “Why rush? This is an important lesson. Let’s get it right.”

  Merry had to admit his best friend had a point there. But pecks on the cheek or rubbing noses together wasn’t even close to what he thought he’d have to do on prom night. “Fine. But can we please get to the good stuff soon?”

  Boone grinned mischievously. “If you’ve never done anything, how do you know what the good stuff is? After all, kissing is… relative and subjective and a highly personal experience.”