John eyed Kit with a simple curiosity, a smirk lifting the corner of his lips as his friend talked. It was quite intriguing, he thought. He’d always believed Kit to be something of a catch, even in the most innocent sense. Even despite John’s own desires, and the burning want that he felt not only between his legs, but in the depths of his chest, when standing beside the Kingsley boy, he’d always seen him from the perspective that others did, too. It was no secret that, with or without his privilege, Kit was a rather… charming boy. He was unimaginably handsome, polite as could be, and with a catalogue of useless information in that pretty little head of his – John didn’t doubt that Kit could recite a whole array of Shakespeare sonnets on command should he request it of him. He was well read, intelligent, his talents not limited to his bookish ways, but extending to his skills with a foil, or his expertise on the rowing team.
Frankly, guys and girls alike clamoured for Kit’s attention, even when they weren’t after his inheritance. It had always baffled John beyond belief to see someone as charismatic as Kit flounder under the attention of others, a blush gracing his cheeks, stuttering out some sort of geeky tidbit about whatever book he was reading whenever a honey with a wet pussy so much as looked his way. It was laughable, really, he supposed. Still, there was something endearing about it, too. John couldn’t help but find it exceptionally cute that he actually enjoyed spending the night of his own New Year’s Eve bash chattering away to dorky brunettes and geeking out over literature.
“You sure about that?” John mused, cocking his head to the side, an eyebrow raised. From what he’d gathered from the tasty little brunette, she couldn’t even cross the road without her nose stuck in a book, so it wouldn’t surprise him in the least if some pretentious quote from whatever author Kit had his eyes on had her flat on her back in no time. “I don’t know, Kingsley. I reckon a little hey nonny nonny here and there would have here spreading her legs for a good Dickens from you in no time.”
He followed the euphemism up with a cheeky wink in Kit’s direction, feeling fairly impressed with himself. He was soon distracted, however, by the motion of Kit’s hip knocking against his own, and he sent the boy a sideway glance, raising his eyebrow as suggestively as he could given the circumstances.
“With hip action like that, I’ve no doubt you could have anyone you wanted, darling. Haven’t you ever thought about putting it to use? Or, if you’re not careful, I might have my own wicked way with you before the night is out,” he smirked.
With a sigh, he thought of Blossom, who was no doubt working the room and hanging off the arm of someone far more desirable even than John. Not that he thought there were a whole lot of gents littering the room that were actually more attractive than he, but it wasn’t entirely hard to find someone more appealing. No guise in the world could truly mask the level with of disdain that John Smith held for himself, and he was sure that Blossom saw right through him.
It was sad, in retrospect. There had once been a time where he’d preened under the attention of the redhead; each kiss had been a blessing, each minor touch, even the tip of her fingers brushing his own, had left him reeling for days. He’d never truly loved anyone, not until Blossom Powers, and he wasn’t entirely sure he ever would again – not that he wanted to, given their current state of affairs. There was no coming back from the shitshow that had been his and Blossom’s past relationship – their now faux relationship – and he highly doubted the two of them could ever even manage to muster up some semblance of a friendship.
“Well, Kitty darling,” he started, heaving out a sigh and pushing back thoughts of Blossom. There was no use delving into that unwanted territory – it wasn’t the Smith way. “I’ll have some tasty piece on my arm in a matter of seconds, sweetheart. I’m a magnet, darling. You, however, need a little work. So while everyone eyes me up, we’ll try and see if in the meantime we can find someone for you to play a little tonsil tennis with, shall we?
Swiftly wrapping an arm around Kit’s shoulders, he pulled the boy into his side with a gentle squeeze. Leading the way, he started to work the room and guide Kit alongside him, through crowds of people eyeing them giddily – all undoubtedly wondering if they could be the lucky chosen one.
“Besides,” he added, trying to remain nonchalant, “Blossom couldn’t care less about kissing me, darling. She gets that on tap whenever she so wishes. No, I think she’d much rather be a million miles away from me right now.”
Kit swiftly made a mental note to keep John away from his bookshelves in the future so he wouldn’t be granted another chance to bastardise a beloved author’s name with an inappropriate innuendo. Shaking his head and rubbing his thumb against his temple, Kit wondered whether or not he should even acknowledge John’s awful Dickens comment before deciding against it. It would only fuel the man more and the last thing John needed was encouragement when he was on a sexually charged rampage and dragging the literary greats into it.
“William and Charles aren’t here to defend themselves, so let’s not,” he said passively, patting John’s shoulder in a fraternal gesture before he groaned and dropped his forehead against the same spot.
“Please stop talking about my hip action,” he sighed. That wasn’t exactly something that he could ignore and continued to press his nose against the well-tailored material of John’s expensive suit, casting a baleful look up at his friend through his eyelashes. Perhaps Kit was a little tipsy, which made him feel slightly more touchy-feely than normal, but growing up with Katherine had fashioned him into an affectionate guy. His other best friend hadn’t been given the same hugs and kisses he’d been showered in as a child, meaning she turned to the Kingsleys for the love her parents had failed to provide her with. And Kit had always been on hand to give it to her.
He wasn’t as physical with John. Perhaps it was a socially embedded concept that put a strike through two boys who shared a boarding school dorm indulging in anything other than fleeting almost-hugs and enthusiastic handshakes. But John was hardly starved for affection. Kit knew that from the amount of times he’d shown up outside their room only to find a sock dangling off the doorknob, a clear sign he should do his homework in the library instead.
Still, it was New Year’s Eve, Kit was feeling sort of giddy and John was making him laugh even if his lips were fighting a smile at that moment. “You’re unbelievable,” he told his friend, rolling his eyes at the blasé way John had successfully managed to pull off using the term ‘tonsil tennis’.
“What if I don’t care about kissing someone at midnight?” he challenged his friend, pulling his head back and raising his eyebrows. “Why does that have to be a thing anyway? I usually just peck Katherine, but I’m sure she’s definitely busy right now.”
He craned his neck, hoping he’d catch a glimpse of Katherine cosying up to Jack. If he showed his support for that almost-couple with bountiful enthusiasm then perhaps Jack would eventually warm up to him and Kit would have one less enemy to worry about. He didn’t like having enemies.
Frowning when John brought up Blossom, Kit lifted a hand to straighten the blonde’s collar. “Sounds healthy,” he muttered. But John’s relationships happened to be none of Kit’s business so he held his tongue on the matter and stopped in his tracks, turning to face his friend and clamping both his hands on John’s shoulders, beaming up at him with a friendly smile.
“John, just focus on enjoying yourself. It’s…” He checked his watch. “Five minutes until midnight and you’re trying to help me find someone to kiss? I appreciate the effort but, really, go enjoy yourself instead of trying to liven me up. You’ll probably find it much more rewarding than hanging around with me.”
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