The Third Kiss

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2017 by Katharina Colmer. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

  Entangled Publishing, LLC

  2614 South Timberline Road

  Suite 109

  Fort Collins, CO 80525

  Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.

  Entangled Teen is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.

  Edited by Stephen Morgan

  Cover design by Anna Crosswell

  Cover art from DepositPhotos

  ISBN 978-1-64063-154-0

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition August 2017

  To David, Ethan, and Nathalia, for whom I’d fight a horde of Groth Maar—to the death.

  “The loveliest trick of the Devil is to persuade you that he does not exist.”

  —Charles Baudelaire, The Generous Gambler

  Chapter One

  Jonas

  Six minutes of peace. That was all I had before the creaky gazebo stairs announced someone had followed me up from the house. I must have missed the rule that said a guy couldn’t grab time out at his own eighteenth birthday party. The perky blonde climbed the last tread and gave me a smile designed to shrink a guy’s boxers a size or two.

  “I saw you head this way and thought you might want some company.”

  In the past? Maybe. Tonight, not so much.

  “Just needed a breather.” I leaned against the railing at the far end of the gazebo and slipped one of my headphone buds in my ear, hoping she’d get the message.

  No such luck. She ambled over to stand in front of me, so close her breath feathered my face when she spoke. “Playing hooky from your own birthday party? Maybe I can help make it more fun.”

  Before I could tell her she was wasting her time, she pressed up against me. Habit lifted my hands to rest on her waist even though I didn’t want any part of what she was offering. I willed them to ease some distance between us.

  “Look, Shelly—”

  “It’s Ashley.” Her lips pursed.

  “Right, Ashley. I appreciate the effort, but I’m not in the right headspace tonight.” Truth was, I hadn’t been in the right headspace for a while now. Not since finding out a certain someone was due back in town.

  My explanation fell on deaf ears. She reached for the hem of my T-shirt and snuck determined fingers underneath, raising the already warm January night temperature. “Sure I can’t change your mind?”

  As sure as I hadn’t remembered her name. Another sign the night was heading down the crapper, because I made a point of remembering their names. Always. I figured if a girl was willing to get up close and personal, the very least I could do was remember what name to whisper while her heat-seeking hands roamed under my T-shirt.

  Could be the scent she wore was causing my memory fog. Vanilla. Now, nothing wrong with vanilla. It was just since that night a year ago, my nose turned up at anything that wasn’t mango. At anyone that wasn’t Co—

  I closed my eyes and clenched my jaw. Not helpful, you asshat! I only had a week—seven short days—to convince myself things wouldn’t be weird. That the one girl whose friendship I valued wasn’t looking for something I couldn’t give her. It had only been that one stupid time and neither of us had brought it up while she’d been away. So all good. Nothing to worry about.

  Right?

  Right.

  “Look, Cora, I can’t—”

  “It’s Ashley.” I opened my eyes. A mix of irritation and disappointment rimmed the blue of hers. “You don’t like your birthday present?”

  “No, it’s not that. It’s just…” Ah hell. I eased away from her. “Like I said, headspace.”

  A second creak on the gazebo stairs pulled my gaze over Ashley’s shoulder. I’d never been so happy for an interruption, but caught my relief before it showed on my face. No need to hurt her feelings. “Your timing needs serious work, Leo.”

  My friend stopped halfway up the stairs. “Dude, I’m just the messenger. Beth’s looking for you.”

  That’d be right. If some chick wasn’t trailing me for a good time, then my sister was on my case. “What does she want?”

  Leo shrugged. “No idea. Just gave me strict find-and-retrieve instructions. Something about an awesome surprise.”

  We might have shared a womb for nine months, but my sister’s idea of an awesome surprise was unlikely to match mine. Still, I owed her for sending Leo to find me.

  I turned to Ashley. “You should go back to the house.”

  Her lips puckered much like before—not in a good way—but she turned and headed for the stairs.

  Leo watched until she was well out of earshot. “Nice.” The word bulged with forced enthusiasm. “So is this one worth keeping?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  His lips curled in a parody of a smile. “Just that.” He started down the stairs.

  I followed, confused. The entire time I’d known him, this was the first dig he’d taken at my dating M.O. He knew I didn’t do long-term. Hell, everyone knew I didn’t do long-term. Although these days I wasn’t doing all that well at short-term, either. Still, I might as well have worn an allergy-alert bracelet with the words “relationship” and “serious girlfriend” engraved on it. So what was with the sudden attitude?

  “Who is she, then?” he asked when I caught up with him halfway along the path back to the house.

  I had to think about that for a second. “Beth’s friend’s cousin.”

  He cocked a brow. “I thought your sister’s friends were off-limits?”

  “Friend’s cousin,” I stressed. “So technically not Beth’s friend. As for her being a keeper, she’s only in Sydney for another week.” So no expectation of anything serious. Perfect, really. Or it would have been if I could have rustled up any sort of interest.

  Leo went quiet for a moment then glanced at me, his expression pulling his features tight. “You ever consider sticking around long enough to actually get to know one of these girls?”

  My foot caught in some kangaroo paw bushes lining the path, and I almost ate gravel. “Like you can talk. You’re not exactly a poster boy for the joys of a committed relationship. You’ve been here a year and I haven’t seen you out with anyone.”

  The moment the words were out, I wanted to Hoover them back in. I still had no idea why Leo didn’t date. It wasn’t just no dating—he didn’t even mess around. My guess was someone somewhere had ripped his heart out and all he had left to fill the gaping void was that ring he wore on a chain under his T-shirt. And any mention of it or what might have put it there resulted in an immediate shutdown.

  Like tonight.

  Leo stopped and pinned me with a filthy glare. At his sides, his fingers curled into fists. For one moment I was convinced he’d throw a punch.

  Then he laughed. The sound was strained even as his clenched fingers relaxed and the threat dissolved into the humid January night air.

  “You’re right, dude. I can’t talk.” He stood there, eyes intent on mine, making me think he was about to say something else, something significant. Instead, he reached into one of his back pockets.

  “Almost forgot.” He handed me a large envelope. “Found this on your doorstep.”

  This
wasn’t your average stationery. This was expensive-looking parchment. The words Jonas Leander were scrawled on the front in elaborate black calligraphy. On the back, the letters AMS were embossed in the center of a red wax seal. Probably another birthday card, although I couldn’t think who’d send me one this fricking fancy.

  “You going to open it?”

  Couldn’t say I wasn’t curious. There was enough moonlight to read it by, so I slid a finger under the envelope’s heavy lip. The seal cracked, splitting the M in half. Inside, more expensive paper. A single sheath, thick but smooth to the touch, and more calligraphy. I looked closer. Beneath the writing was some sort of coiled triangular watermark. I focused on the text:

  Three times your lips a choice will have to make

  To find a heart that yours will gladly take

  If with the sun’s rise she still clings to thee

  Love’s joy your just reward shall ever be

  But should your chosen shun you on the morrow

  Your soul has not delved deep into her core

  Your pleasure of her lies in waters shallow

  Your presence she will scorn for evermore

  Be wise and seek more than your eyes’ desire

  Choose well and plant love’s seed in deeper soil

  Seek out the secret to love’s lasting fire

  Or suffer on your own Love’s Mortal Coil

  Love’s Mortal—

  “What the hell is this?” I understood the words but had no idea what it all meant. If this was someone’s idea of a joke, I wasn’t laughing.

  I held the letter out to Leo. He skimmed the parchment. When he was finished, he pulled the envelope from my hand and looked at the wax seal.

  “You recently piss off anyone with the initials AMS?”

  I blinked at him. “Are you serious?”

  He slid the letter back in its envelope and handed it to me. “It’s got disgruntled ex written all over it.”

  I glanced down at the seal. AMS… AMS…nope, nothing. “I don’t know anyone with these initials.”

  Leo shoved his hands into his cargo shorts and shrugged. “That’s all I’ve got.”

  I kept staring at the seal, willing the initials to match up with a name in my bank of hookups. My admittedly large bank of hookups, but like I said, I remembered their names. Always. Still, I was drawing a blank.

  Leo shifted beside me. “Dude, trust me. It’s just some ticked-off ex messing with your head. Unless…” The waver in his voice had me glancing up. “Don’t tell me you actually believe this voodoo?” Disbelief tugged on his eyebrows so hard they almost disappeared into his dark mop of hair.

  I scoffed. “Hell no!” And even if I did, I couldn’t care less. Love was an emotional tar pit designed to suck the weak under. I didn’t need the ring around Leo’s neck to remind me of that; the memory of Dad’s car wrapped around a tree was all the reminder I needed.

  With a disgusted shake of my head, I shoved the envelope into my pocket and started down the path again, Leo falling silently into step beside me.

  The music grew louder as we neared the back of the house. People spilled out onto the deck and into the garden. They clustered in groups, a bottle or can in one hand, heads bobbing to the beat filtering out through the open back doors.

  Leo and I made it halfway across the lawn when I spotted Beth stalking our way. With her willowy frame and long blonde hair flying about her face, my sister looked like a Tolkien elf queen—a pissed off Tolkien elf queen.

  Hands on hips, she planted herself in front of me. “Turn your stupid phone on, will you? I’ve been trying to find you for the last half hour.”

  “Maybe I didn’t want to be found.”

  She glanced over my shoulder in the direction of the gazebo, then screwed up her face. “Jeez, Jonas. I don’t even want to know. Just hurry up already.” She grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the house.

  “What’s this about, anyway?” It was an effort keeping up with her; she was powering toward the house so quickly.

  “Aunt Helena wants to do a speech, and I’m not living through that kind of torture on my own.”

  Speech? I stopped mid stride, breaking Beth’s steely grip on my arm. A speech meant getting all sentimental, usually about the past. I’d rather wear steel-wool boxers for a week.

  I threw Leo an annoyed look. “You could have warned me.”

  He shrugged and veered off to join a group on the other side of the garden. Was it the prospect of Aunt Helena’s speech or my foot-in-mouth episode from earlier that had him deserting? Probably both.

  We reached the deck, and Beth pulled me across it with determined urgency, forcing several people out of the way.

  When I tripped over one of her friend’s handbags, I turned to eyeball her. “Will you quit it? It’s not like Aunt Helena’s going to start without us.”

  “I know.” And yet she still urged me through the open back doors. “That’s not why I want you inside.”

  “What? The speech isn’t the awesome surprise?”

  My sarcasm earned me a hard shove between the shoulder blades. “No, you goon, it’s not. Now move.”

  “So what is it, then?” I had to raise my voice now that we were in the den. People were everywhere, a sweaty, pulsing mass worshipping the drumbeat god. Mostly Beth’s friends. The guys from the swim squad I’d invited either didn’t dance or were too busy downing the free beer.

  When Beth didn’t answer, I weaved through the gyrating crowd to catch up with her. I dodged a girl’s windmilling arms only to slam chest first into a guy with a familiar face. A familiar pretty-boy face.

  It took me a moment to place him, and when I did… Wasn’t he the creepy guy Beth had pointed out last night during my shift at the café? No way had Beth invited him! And I sure as hell hadn’t. Which meant the creep was crashing.

  “Sorry,” he said, but his tone, and the come-hit-me way he was crowding my personal space, told a less apologetic story. His lips curled up at the ends, revealing toothpaste commercial teeth. A chill licked down my back, and it had nothing to do with the breeze filtering from the air conditioning. Beth was right—there was something off about this creep’s face, and it wasn’t just the freakish violet eyes.

  “Who the hell invited—”

  “Jonas!” Beth’s shout pulled my attention across the room. “Will you hurry up?” She was approaching the refreshments table set up near the back wall. That was when all thoughts of Pretty Boy disappeared out the back door along with the bass beat.

  My eyes locked onto another familiar form, shooting an unsettling jolt of recognition up the nape of my neck.

  She’d made an effort tonight, ditching her standard shorts and cartoon character-inspired T-shirt in favor of a black miniskirt and green, slinky tank top. Her dark auburn hair hung longer than I remembered and swayed in a sleek ponytail down the ivory V of skin on her back. When she turned to say something to the redhead next to her, my gut clenched like I’d stuffed up a dive and belly flopped into a pool.

  I held my breath for a few beats, unable to decide if it was surprise that had my insides folding in on themselves, or something altogether different.

  Forget my one week—Cora was back.

  Chapter Two

  Cora

  “So did you, like, have trouble understanding them over there?”

  I stopped my inventory of the soft drink selection and tried not to gape at the girl at my side. Was she serious? “They speak English in the States, Viv.”

  She tossed her bottle-bred, fire-engine red hair over a tanned shoulder and cocked her head, looking at me like I was the one asking the stupid question. “Yeah, I know. But we had to read that Huckleberry Finn book last year, and I couldn’t understand half of what the characters said.”

  I fought the urge to shake my head. Or shove hers in
the soft drink cooler. Instead I fished a Sprite out of the icy water and tried to remember why Beth was friends with this ditz.

  “I was in Manhattan, not the Deep South, Viv.” Not to mention in the twenty-first century, not the nineteenth, but that small detail would have been lost on her. Based on available evidence, I’d say even without the dialect she wouldn’t have understood half of what the characters said. Clearly, the driveway still didn’t go all the way up to Viv Feehan’s garage.

  “Hey, we had a guy move here from the States last year. Dark hair, gorgeous caramel skin. Real cute, in a computer geek kinda way.” She pulled a soft drink from the cooler and popped the ring. “But I think he said he was from New York, so probably, like, on the other side of the country from you.”

  Give me strength…

  I lifted my eyes to the clock above the drinks table and locked onto the seconds hand. One, two, three, four… How the girl ever graduated high school was beyond me.

  “Anyway, it’s cool that you’re back.” Viv smiled at me, genuine crinkly eyes and all. And just like that, guilt crept its way along my cheekbones. Red, like her fire-engine hair. Ditz or not, she’d always been nice to me despite me sitting slightly left of center on the social bell curve. So what on earth was wrong with me tonight? “Bitch” wasn’t my usual default setting.

  Maybe it was the jet lag. Or the heat. That stifling late January summer heat that clung to the skin long after the sun had disappeared. Only two days ago I couldn’t leave the house without parceling myself up in at least three layers of clothing. Maybe my system hadn’t adjusted to the new climate yet.

  “Thanks.” I smiled back and gave her arm a gentle squeeze. “It’s good to be home.”

  Viv nodded, then joined a group of heaving bodies on the makeshift dance floor, her mane flaming behind her.

  I glanced at the clock again and suppressed a yawn. It was just after ten, which made it just after six in the morning in Manhattan, which made it God-only-knew-what-time according to my body clock.

  Dad had suggested I fly back earlier, but then my surprise appearance tonight would have been a complete fizzer. Besides, main round uni offers had only come out last Wednesday, and Mom wanted to see mine spelled out next to my name and student number before she handed over the plane ticket—her last ditch attempt to make me stay and attend NYU as she had decided I should.