NINE

Kate hoped that Rick's confession about the darkest day of his life would allow him to relax and turn to the happier, more confident Rick she had seen in more recent times. She had no idea, though, just how much of a different it would make; the transformation was impressive. By Monday morning he had called Black Pawn, Wednesday he had a meeting with them, and by Friday the full novel had been turned in for review.

As her father had warned them both about the possibility, Kate expected the publishing company to take their time reviewing the book and not get back to Rick for a significant period of time, but that was not the case. Two weeks later Rick was signing his very contract as a published author; she had never seen him so happy.

From that point forward, it felt like the next month moved at lightning speed. Rick was given a ten thousand dollar advance check along with the signing of his contract. While this was not the most astronomical sum of money it was more than he'd ever had in his life. Kate half-teasingly, half-seriously warned him not to spend it all in one place, but he said he knew exactly what he was going to do with it: rent his own apartment.

Kate's original assumption about Rick and his mother had been correct. Save the time he spent as a hostage, they had never lived apart. Mainly, this was because neither had enough money to live on their own. Martha had understandably spent her life savings trying to find her son. It took her several years after his return to find her footing in the acting world again and by that point she was in debt. Rick had worked as much as he could during his recovery time, but the expensive city lifestyle was not encouraging to quick financial recovery. Now that Martha had been steadily employed in several back-to-back productions, she was fine to live on her own and with Black Pawn's check, so was Rick. The apartment he found was just outside Harlem; it was a studio barely big enough to turn around in, but it was his and he was thrilled with it, so of course Kate was happy for him.

Though his book had been accepted, there was still editing that needed done and in a short period of time, so for several weeks after he moved Rick and Kate did not see much of one another. They kept in daily contact through phone calls and text messages, but sometimes those were few and far between. Perhaps most disappointingly, Rick had quit his job at Starbucks and thus was no longer providing her morning caffeine fix.

When Rick had finally turned in the edits to Black Pawn, Kate insisted that they go out and celebrate, but their evening took a turn when she caught a case. After postponing their plans several times, they were finally able to meet up on a Saturday afternoon for a cheap matinee playing at a theater by Kate's place that always used extra butter on their popcorn.

On the walk back to her place, Kate noticed the rather glum expression on her friend's face and nudged him with her elbow as she slipped her hands into her coat pockets to shield them from the chilly November air. "What's the deal with you today? That was a funny movie and you didn't laugh once." Though he had given her a smile and a hug when they met up, Kate hadn't noticed how downtrodden he seemed until midway through the movie when his expression made it seem as though they were watching a World War II biopic and not a slapstick comedy.

"Sorry I'm…distracted."

"About what?" He had been unusually forthcoming in recent weeks, telling her more bits and pieces about his kidnapping time. None of them were particularly dark—they were more practical answers to her questions like how often he ate (once or twice a day) and how he used the bathroom (his kidnapper provided a bucket with a lid). Given how much he'd been sharing, she was surprised he had not come out and told her what was bothering him.

They walked another half block before he stopped walking and turned to her. "Did you…have you ever had anyone tell you you're a bad kisser?"

Kate's cheeks flushed. Well, that's not what she expected him to say. "Oh, um, no. but I'm guessing you have."

He grunted. "Last night during my shift this girl was flirting with me. Really flirting. At first I just thought she wanted free drinks, but she seemed nice. We chatted. And she stuck around so I said I'd walk her home."

"And you kissed her?" She guessed. Though he had quit his Starbucks job, Rick continued to bartend three nights a week, saying it was a quick way to earn a few hundred dollars to go towards his new rent payments. Plus, it generally came with a few entertaining stories; this did not feel like it would be one of them.

"She kissed me—we kissed and she told me it was terrible."

As the wind was biting into her nose, Kate continued walking as she shrugged off the incident. "She was probably just drunk or something."

"She's not the first person that ever said that."

Kate cringed inwardly at his confession. Well, that was a bit harder to brush off than a one-time incident. When they crossed the street so they could go into her building, Kate mentally reviewed Rick's history. Kidnapped at eleven, which meant high odds he was not kissed before the incident. That meant his first kiss came at eighteen or after. That age would have made it unusually late, though not entirely unheard of, but maybe it had been even later.

"Can I ask when your first kiss was?"

He answered without hesitation as they entered her building. "Nineteen…about nine months after I came back. I was starting to feel normal again. I was taking the subway back and forth to the classes helping me get my GED. A woman started talking to me one time. I didn't realize or know it at the time, but she recognized me and she, um, had a fetish shall we say."

Kate's head whipped towards his when they stepped into the elevator. "Fetish? For what? Kidnapped children?"

"No. People with traumatic pasts. Dark things—I don't know. I just thought she was friendly and nice and I was thrilled someone liked me. I'd also just spent the prior seven years as a hostage so I was a bit naïve."

She bobbed her head. "Sure." Given his absence from the real world during such formative years, she guessed that wasn't the only thing he was naïve about—not that any of it was his fault.

"She was the first person I kissed…and who I lost my virginity to – those two incidents happened at the same time, by the way–and they were both terrible."

Kate sucked in a breath through her teeth and cringed without thinking. "Ouch," she said, though she wasn't surprised. If anyone—no matter their history—had said that they had their first kiss and first time having sex back to back she would have assumed that at least one if not both was not a pleasurable experience.

"Well, as I said, I was an idiot."

She gave him a pointed look as she unlocked the door to her apartment. "I think given what happened to you idiot is a bit strong of a word." He shrugged as they stepped inside and shed their coats. When she hung them on her coatrack she asked, "So…wait, when did you find out about her fetish?"

His mouth curled in to a grimace. "How graphic do you want me to be?"

She laughed. "Oh well now you have to tell me everything." Normally, she was not too much of a kiss-and-tell type girl. Despite Lanie's insistence that Kate—and most of the city—know the graphic details of her sex life, Kate generally did not feel the need to share all that much. However, given how Rick's story was going, her curiosity was getting the better of her.

"We went out on a date—just dinner. She invited me back to her apartment because she wanted to show me something."

A small, "Oh god," escaped Kate's lips as she cringed. She had to fight to keep from laughing. Poor, poor naïve, innocent Rick, must have had no idea that going back to her apartment to show him something was code for having sex. "You didn't realize…"

"Right—because I was still thinking like an eleven-year-old…kind of. Anyway, we got inside and she just pounced on me. I was sitting on her couch, she kissed me, I was stunned because it was my first kiss and the next thing I knew she was, ah, um…" He began to stumble over his words, and his cheeks turned rosy as he gestured awkwardly towards his thighs.

Given the description he had already provided, Kate guessed, "Riding you?"

He bobbed his head. "Yes and saying all these things—she wanted me to tell her my story as she…" His voice drifted off as he made a sweeping gesture with his hand.

"Oh god Rick." Kate's statement came out as half a laugh, but the more she thought about it, the more uncomfortable it made her feel. This girl, whoever it was, had somewhat unknowingly taken advantage of him. Rick may not have known what was happening until it was, well, happening. "It…it kind of sounds like she assaulted you."

He nodded his head back and forth. "I see your point, but let's be honest: even if she had asked if I wanted to have sex before pouncing on me, I probably would have said yes anyway because I…I was still kind of living for the moment. You know?"

Kate hummed. Having been in contact with plenty nineteen-year-old men in her life, she also understood it from that perspective. "So…I'm guessing she was a bit too enthusiastic to tell you that you were a bad kisser."

"Correct. That happened later."

"Well…I don't know, Rick." She sighed and ran her fingers down the sides of her neck. "Do you think you're a bad kisser?"

"How would I know?"

She shrugged him off. "I'm sure its fine."

"But what if I'm really terrible? Maybe you could just-"

"Me?!" She reacted to the key word in his statement. "Oh no that's a terrible idea." Did she say terrible idea? Because she meant: worst idea ever. She was not kissing Rick. Nope. No way. Not going to happen. They were friends and wanted to stay friends and friends did not kiss.

The barista turned writer had other plans. He clasped his hands in front of him, begging. "Please. I know you'll be honest with me; you'll be objective."

"No."

"Please! Just one kiss!"

Kate shut her eyes and let out a breath through her nose. Was she considering this? No. No definitely not. She could not kiss him. She simply could not! If she kissed him, then that could open the door to—no. No. It wasn't happening.

She opened her eyes, fully prepared to tell him to have a good evening when his blue eyes met hers and she was reminded of the Missing poster with the blue eyed, floppy-haired little boy, who had spent seven years chained in a barn being forced to witness and do unspeakable things.

Shit.

"Ah…god, okay; one kiss." Without giving him a second to react, she took two steps forward, rose up on her toes, and pressed her lips against his for a fraction of a second. Turning away from him, she said, "See—that was fine."

"Wha-!?" He spluttered. "First, that was barely a kiss and second fine is code for terrible."

"Fine is not code for terrible."

"It is and you know it."

Kate said nothing. Fine was code for terrible, but in truth the kiss had been too quick for her to make any sort of judgement so she turned back to him and nodded him forward, that time letting him kiss her and it was—

Oh god. Terrible. Way too wet. His lips were practically vacuuming over hers and the way he was jabbing his tongue into her mouth—she couldn't take it.

Pressing her hand against his sternum, she stepped back. She had only looked at him for the span of five seconds when he threw his hands up and spun around. "Jesus! I am terrible!"

Unable to deny his conclusion, she turned to constructive criticism. "You're just a bit too aggressive. Calm down."

After her recommendation, he kissed her again, and it was slightly improved until his tongue started jamming around inside her mouth again and she stepped back. "Wow, okay you're really quick with the tongue there, Rick. Just try keeping it to yourself for a bit and slow things down."

He whined. "I don't know how."

She looked at him, confident. "Yes you do. Shut your eyes and take a deep breath." When he did so, she stepped up to him and kissed him. Since he kept his tongue to himself, the kiss was okay—not amazing, but okay. She pulled back and patted his shoulder. "See, there; much better."

His expression brightened. "Ok, ok; I got it. Let me try again."

That time his lips parted gently over hers and his hands settled at her waist and—oh, yes, this was a great improvement. He was going slower and gentler with just the right amount of pressure. She was almost about to think that she was enjoying the kiss when his tongue slammed into the roof of her mouth with such force that she pushed her palm flat against his chest to stop him.

"Rick!" She scolded. "Too aggressive with the tongue!"

He stepped back, obviously mortified, so she quickly softened. "I'm sorry. I just…" She dusted her fingers over her forehead while trying the best way to help him. "How about this–next time you kiss a woman, let her be the one to initiate the tongue; follow her lead."

He nodded. "Okay. Show me."

She shook her head in refusal. Turning to walk towards her kitchen she said, "This isn't middle school."

"No, I never went there."

She laughed. "You're not going to guilt me in to doing this." Oh no, he wasn't going to play the tragic-youth card on this one. She had already gone above and beyond the call of friendship.

Dropping his chin to his chest he said, "Okay. Thanks. I'll just lea-"

"Stop."

Fuck. He had her wrapped around his finger, didn't he? She just couldn't stand to see him disappointed or upset. Setting her shoulders, Kate took in a deep, cleansing breath and prepared herself to kiss him for what she anticipated being the final time.

She returned to his side where he looked almost fearful of what was going to happen next. "What did I just tell you?

"Kids in middle school practiced kissing?"

She rolled her eyes. "Before that."

"Don't initiate the tongue." He repeated dutifully.

She nodded, stepped up, cradled her jaw with his hand and kissed him. She kissed him like she would have after a romantic dinner date, or an evening spent exploring the city streets handing in hand while laughter was shared between them. It started slow and easy, but the heat built as his arms wound around her waist and their lips came together again and again. She skimmed her tongue against his bottom lip twice before gliding it inside and sliding it over his. She felt tingles flow down her spine and settle low in her belly; a moment later the moan that escaped her own throat startled her into pulling back and putting a foot of distance in between them so she would not be tempted to kiss him again.

Breathing heavily, she looked at him and found that he gazed back at her with an equal amount of surprise and attraction. Shit—shit! This wasn't supposed to happen. She wasn't supposed to have feelings for him. Not when they were friends. Not when so much had happened to him and she was still as closed off as ever.

But, then again, didn't it make sense? They were really good friends—really good. One might even have concluded them to be best friends. He had shared so much with her, and she had told him that her mother had been murdered; she rarely told anyone that. Maybe she did have feelings for Rick and maybe that wasn't a bad thing—but, it was not something she needed to address in that moment after she'd been making out with him. After she'd been—Jesus—trying to help him be a better kisser.

As she was certain her cheeks were red, she turned away from him and said, "Yeah. That was, uh, good. Just, um, keep working on that and you'll be fine."

"I…okay. Thanks Kate. I guess I'll just um…"

"Yep, have a good evening!" She said goodbye without ever turning around. Once she heard the door shut behind her, she collapsed face-first against the countertop and moaned.

God. What the hell had she done?

A/N: this chapter is contrived and ridiculous and I'm not even a little bit sorry.