Free Every Kiss by Tasha Ivey Page A

kissing. Something happened, and you’re both
too damn stubborn to tell me. Fess up.”
    Wes stabs a fork into a stack of pancakes and shoves the
plate in her direction. “Eat up. I promise. There’s nothing going on.
Seriously, we’re only friends.”
    “That close of friends in less than 24 hours? I don’t
believe you for a minute.”
    I grab my plate, cutting my pancake into abnormal squares
before stuffing a large bite in my mouth. The melted chocolate hidden inside
unexpectedly reminds me of tasting it on Wes’ tongue, and I feel a strange
heaviness in the pit of my stomach. “Believe it or not, Mak. If we were hooking
up, you really think I’d be sucking chocolate off of him while he cooks your
breakfast the morning after? Think about it.”
    She jabs the tines of her fork into the same piece over and
over, making me feel a little uneasy. Finally, she drops her fork into her
plate. “That joke sucked.”
    We somehow make it through the next few hours without
anything else said, but she continues to look at me funny. She won’t approach
the subject again right now, but I’m not stupid. The next moment we have alone,
she’s going to pounce. All I’m worried about right now is trying to do whatever
I can to move as little as possible while picking up the insane amount of trash
left behind by the partygoers. The medicine helped for a little while, but my
headache is coming back with a vengeance.
    I say it every time this happens, but this time I mean it.
Never. Drinking. Again.
    It takes half of forever, but we finally manage to get the
house back to the way it was. Shane tells us that the cleaning crew will be
coming in this week, so we don’t worry with cleaning the floors and such. Then,
we hit the yard. There isn’t near as much trash inside as there was outside,
but without as many surfaces to put it on, most of it is on the ground. All of
the bending is killing me. My head feels like it’s going to explode every time
I squat to pick something up, and that’s making me a little queasy.
    “You’re looking a little green. You okay?” Wes approaches me
as I stand to throw another cup in my trash bag. He places a cool hand on my
forehead.
    “My head hurts. It pounds every time I stoop over, every
time I walk. Even breathing, at this point, is more than I can handle.”
    “What time are the two of you supposed to leave?”
    “I’m not sure. I think Makenna said around four or five
o’clock.”
    He tugs his cell phone from his pocket to check the time.
“Come with me. I’ll help get all of this finished later.”
    “You shouldn’t have to. It was for your birthday.”
    “Callie.” Is it wrong that I love how he says my name? “I
don’t give a damn whose birthday it was. You feel like shit. You’re miserable.
Come with me.”
    I nod.
    He turns on his heel and heads into the house with me
following close behind. I hear Makenna call out, asking where I’m going, but I
ignore her. I’m feeling sicker by the minute, and I need to just sit down. Wes
stops in the kitchen to fill a large glass with ice and water, and he snags a
bag of frozen vegetables from the freezer. I eye him curiously, but he nods his
head in the direction of the stairs.
    Halfway up, though, I think I’m seriously going to die. My
head is pounding so hard, it hurts to open my eyes. But my motivation to get
the rest of the way up the stairs is the bile rising up the back of my throat.
Nausea overcomes me, and I take off, shoving past Wes to make it into the bathroom
to heave into the toilet. I feel like my stomach is turning inside out, and my
headache is only making it worse.
    A hand on my back rubs up and down the length of my spine
until I have nothing left in me to give. I’m far too miserable to be
embarrassed. I slump into the floor and press my cheek against the cool tile.
    “Oh, no you don’t. Sit up.” Wes tugs my elbow until I’m
upright, and then he wipes my face with a damp cloth. It feels like heaven.
“Can