He let me kiss them, cupped one against my cheek while the other found its home around the back of my neck.
I closed my eyes to better absorb his touch.
King’s voice was achingly soft, taking my misery into his voice and sucking on it like a candy until it dissolved. “They arrested me before I brought my favorite teacher another apple poem. Was worried I’d have to woo you all over again. Got it with me, you want it?”
“Yes,” I breathed, feeling like a dandelion about to face a strong breeze.
He didn’t move away to reach for a piece of paper because, I realized just before he opened his mouth, they wouldn’t have let him keep any personal effects on him in this horrible place.
So, instead of passing me an apple tied with a poem, he passed me the words written on his tongue.
“Your voice is between the lines, my Queen
Echoed in the white before the black
It is the swell of words that rest
Behind the apex of my throat
Your scent is caught between my teeth
Sinks among the groves there and gives them taste
Of clouds, dew upon my palate,
I hide you under my tongue
Your body walks my lines at night
It warms the skin beneath my arms, settles
Against my chest, a thumb in the hollow of the collar bone
It whispers your breath into mine
Your heart rests in the gaps
Between my ribs it sits and breathes my breath
It webs the links between my toes
And when I swim, my Queen, it is on you I float”
By the time he was finished, I was crying even harder.
He smiled crookedly at me. “Don’t think I ever made a woman cry before.”
“Oh, shut up,” I said, playfully hitting him in the arm. “With a face like that? Honey, there are girls still crying in their beds at night over you.”
His grin slipped then fell off his face and his hand tightened around my neck. “Not gonna patch in after school, Cressida. When I get out of here, I’m going to accept at UBC Sauder School of Business.”
Elation and worry tore through my chest. “King… honey, I meant what I said about standing by you. Please, don’t make this decision based on what you think I want you to do.”
I lost my breath at the width of his smile. He was so unbearably handsome, even in an orange jumpsuit and at that moment, I was sure I’d never wanted him more.
“Not about that, Queen, but thanks. It’s the right thing to do for me. I got a brain and I want to get better at usin’ it, so good that when I graduate and we move back to Entrance I can patch in with somethin’ to contribute other than my name.”
I loved that he wanted to make something of himself and I loved that he wasn’t turning his back on a family who would live and die for him.
I told him so and it was his turn to take my hand and kiss it.
“Also, I quit my job so… yeah. I have no idea what I’m going to do with little to no money and no job, but maybe Eugene would let me work at his bar?” I joked somewhat desperately.
King barked out a short, hard laugh that felt as rewarding as a high five. “Love that you did that for me. Wish I could have seen you rip a fuckin’ strip off of Headmaster Adams.”
“How do you know I ripped a strip off him?”
“Babe.”
“Babe is not an acceptable answer!” I reminded him, but I was laughing because even after two days of being without him, I’d missed this.
“I know you tore into the bastard because my girl is fierce, especially when someone does wrong by her man.”
The warmth from his words poured over me like liquid sunshine.
“Okay, I might have yelled at him a little bit,” I admitted.
He laughed.
“But he deserved it.”
He laughed harder, throat exposed, brown and muscled, more beautiful to me than anything else in the world.
When he finished laughing, his eyes cleared and he said sternly, “Cress babe, there’s no way I’m lettin’ you work at Eugene’s or any fuckin’ where else where you gotta wear a skirt. Those legs of yours are exposed to a shit ton of drinkin’ men and I’m not there to clock their fuckin’ heads together when they get the hot idea to hit on my woman. Yeah?”
More sunshine, hot rays that tingled over my skin.
“Yeah, King.”
He nodded curtly. “You said you’ve always wanted to go back to school. Get your shit together and apply.”
“I don’t have the money,” I said softly. “And it’s too late to apply for scholarships.”
“Babe,” King used his hand on the back of my head to bring me closer, then brought his other hand to my chin in a firm hold. “I may be eighteen and I may not be one of those trust fund brats you knew back in Dunbar, but I am a Garro. You think I can’t find the money to send you to school?”