Page 35 of The Death of Kisses

“Oh no, you are not throwing me on that,” I protested, eyes wide with laughter, as Lee scooped me up.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” he teased, his grin infectious. Before I could react, he dunked me into a giant garbage can filled with water and soap. The cold splash shocked me, and I took in a lungful of soapy water that stung and made me sputter.

“Ugh,” I coughed, my cheeks burning with embarrassment but also with pure exhilaration, as Lee doubled over in laughter.

“You look adorable,” he said softly, pulling me out and slipping backward, both of us tumbling onto the grass, laughter echoing across the field, as we rolled towards the tarps.

“You ready?” he grinned, wrapping his arms around my waist, positioning us for the slide.

“Yeah,” I said eagerly, my heart pounding with anticipation.

Suddenly, his arms let go, and I heard the grass dip beneath us. The next moment—flying, weightless—we were sliding down the tarp at a wild, exhilarating speed. We were soaked through, slippery, alive with adrenaline and joy.

It felt like the world had blurred into one incredible rush—until we crashed onto the mats at the far end, breathless and giggling.

“Oh my god, that was so much fun!” I screamed, flinging foamy bubbles toward Lee, my eyes shining with pure happiness.

“Totally,” he grinned, catching his breath. “We should do it again—see if I can slide the other way.” His grin was contagious, and in that moment, I knew nothing could top this perfect, reckless evening.

Lee’s smile lit up the world as he reached out, pulling me up with gentle, urgent strength. His face was so close I could feel the heat of his breath, and in that moment, everything else faded away—there was only him, and the unspoken ache of connection that made my heart race. Nothing else existed but us in that perfect, fleeting second.

I pulled away from him as a wild, jubilant roar erupted from a group of seniors at the edge of the field, their hoots and hollers echoing through the air like a thunderstorm of chaos. We parted suddenly, our footsteps hastening toward the other side, but along the way, someone tore off their shirt, sliding gleefully down onto his chest, laughter spilling from their lips like a reckless, uncontrollable flame. The sun sank slowly beneath the horizon, casting a bittersweet glow as time slipped away, and soon Lee and I found ourselves at his bike, the silence between us thick with unspoken words.

“Are you going to let me drop you off at home?” he asked, his voice tinged with unease, as if uncertain of what lay ahead.

“No,” I whispered, my heart pounding, “I want to spend the night with Charlie.”

I never told him why.

I never uttered the truth that haunted me every time I closed my eyes—the woods, relentless and suffocating, that refused to let go.

That I still wake up, heart pounding, hearing whispers and shadows that aren’t there, voices from a nightmare I can’t escape.

That part of me is still terrified of being alone in the dark, of facing the silence that screams louder than any words.

“Okay,” he spoke softly, as if afraid to break the fragile moment.

Lee leaned in, his lips pressing a gentle kiss against my forehead before placing the helmet over my head. And then—everything changed. The wind, fierce and wild, tore through us, and I clung to him tighter than I ever meant to, feeling the weight of unseen fears pressing against my chest.

Graduation was supposed to mark the end of something—an ending I was ready to leave behind.

But instead, it became a countdown.

As the trees blurred into a streak of darkness and the sun dipped beneath the horizon, a chilling certainty took hold in my bones—that something from those woods, from that day, had followed me out, shadowing my every step.

And I knew, deep down, that sooner or later, it would catch up with me.

24

CRASH AND BURN

Present day - October 19th - Town of PineRidge - Population 5025 - 18 yr old

The bike roared to life on the very first try. I hated that. After everything—the countless nights spent dreaming, wishing for it to be mine again—there should have been some kind of relief, some spark of joy. But instead, it just felt... hollow. Like another thing Mike had fixed, another piece of the past I couldn’t truly grasp back.

As the sun sank behind my back, I rode aimlessly, without a destination, just trying to feel the bike beneath me—this machine that held so many memories, both beautiful and broken.

My mind drifted back to that rain-soaked night—the relentless drops pounding against my helmet, drowning out everything else as I screamed into the silence, searching for some meaning in the chaos.