Page 42 of The Executioners Three

Here was one thing Freddie knew about kissing Theo Porter: the world made a lot more sense this way.

She felt safe. She felt grounded. No fun house mazes to scuttle her brain.

It was just Freddie and Theo. And this time, when Theo bent slightly to cup his hands beneath her butt, she was ready for it.

This time, when he hefted her up, her legs instinctively slung around his waist and her arms clung to his neck.

Theo carried her around the car door, still kissing her. Like he could never stop. He kicked the door shut as they passed—which was a stupid sexy move, and Freddie found herself kissing him all the harder for it.

Then he pressed Freddie onto the car’s hood and pressed himself against Freddie. The car was warm beneath her. Damp with melted snow too, but the blazer protected her.

His blazer that he had given her to keep her warm.

Her legs squeezed more tightly around him, and she slid up her hands to rest on Theo’s chest. He had such a nice chest, and Freddie especially liked the way his heart thumped against her palm.

Distantly, she realized Theo’s shirt was now wet with snow. And distantly, she realized he must be freezing without his blazer on. But that was a cursory, unimportant problem.

All that mattered right now was kissing Theo.

“Just… to clarify,” Freddie murmured between kisses, “this does mean you like me too, right?”

“Yes,” Theo said raggedly. “Wasn’t that obvious?” He dragged kisses over her jaw. Onto her neck. “I told you, it’s tearing up my heart when I’m with you, and when we are apart, I feel it too.”

“Ah,” Freddie replied, and she couldn’t help it: she laughed. An irrepressible sound that fizzed up from her lungs.

Because really—no boy should be allowed to quote NSYNC and kiss her neck at the same time. It was like having every fantasy come true at once. All that was missing was Lance Bass, and honestly, she wasn’t sure she wanted him anymore.

Theo Porter was more than enough.

Theo stopped kissing Freddie’s neck and looked at her. “You’re laughing at me.”

“No.” She tugged him back to her. “I’m laughing with you.”

“But I’m not laughing.”

“You should be, though. I mean, look at us: a few days ago, you hated me.”

“No, I didn’t.” Theo rested his forehead against hers. “I never hated you, Freddie. At least not after meeting you at the Quick-Bis.”

“Oh?” This was news to Freddie. Good news that she liked very much. “Why is that?”

“Because you made me laugh. Not many people can do that. Also”—Theo offered a cocky grin—“I have a thing for girls in glasses.”

Now this was really news to Freddie. Her eyebrows shot high. “You could have told me that sooner, you know. Then I would have worn them every day.”

“And then you would have killed me.” He bit his lip—swollen and red. “I mean, glasses and this hair? Do you have any idea what power you wield, Freddie Gellar?”

“You… like my hair?”

“Do I like your hair?” Now he was the one to laugh while he brushed a stray curl from Freddie’s face. He tucked it behind her ear, and for half a frozen moment, Theo stared at her. Lips parted, gaze hungry, and…

And there was something more, Freddie realized—a look on his face that she had never seen anyone direct at her before. That she’d never known she wanted to see.

As if Theo couldn’t believe his luck, like he was afraid that if he moved, it would all come crashing down.

And there was that vulnerability too—the tortured Theo from that morning. The one that, Freddie supposed, always lived beneath his smooth words and smiles.

She had no idea who moved first after that. All she knew was that one moment, she and Theo were a few inches apart. The next, their lips were crushed together.

Fast, vicious kisses with his fingers tangling in her hair—hair she now knew he loved. Freddie clutched at his busted, beautiful face while they pushed harder against each other. No cold, no rising night, no empty parking lot to encircle them.

She could feel Theo’s desperation. He wanted distraction, salvation, and relief from whatever it was that tormented his blue eyes. His need filled each kiss, and god, she liked it.

Except no, this was more than just liking. She needed it. As badly as he did, she needed distraction and salvation and relief. But until right now, she hadn’t realized how much she hungered for them.

Because Freddie’s world was also a mess. There were murders and secrets and poems about executioners tangled so thick she didn’t know where one knot ended and the next began. Yet right now, none of that mattered. Not while Theo Porter was kissing her.

Theo slid a hand into the blazer, moving toward Freddie’s back. Her shirt had ridden up; his cold fingers brushed bare skin.

She stiffened with surprise.

Theo stiffened too. “I’m sorry.” He yanked his hand back. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Wait.” Freddie caught his wrist. Then ever so slowly, she returned his fingers to her skin.

“I like it,” she told him.

“Oh,” he replied.

“Now kiss me,” she commanded.

And Theo did. A sweet kiss this time—slow and thoughtful while his fingers traced gently across her hips. Up her spine.

Freddie had never been touched there before. She had always been too shy with Carl. Perhaps ashamed even. After all, none of the girls in Seventeen magazine had the same softness or curves that she had.

But with Theo, she found she didn’t care. He enjoyed the shape of her, and that knowledge was… well, intoxicating . Freddie’s heart thudded in her abdomen. In her skull. Then a moan left her throat, the softest of sounds.

And it was like a fuse going off. Suddenly the kisses were no longer sweet. Suddenly she and Theo were clinging to each other with another level of desperation and hunger.

They would have gone on forever like that too, if headlights hadn’t beamed over them. If an engine hadn’t abruptly filled the air. Freddie and Theo pulled apart, startled, as headlights blazed through the snow.

A Jeep, Freddie realized as it skidded to a stop.

The driver’s door flung wide. “What the hell are you doing?” a voice bellowed. Then Kyle Friedman materialized through the snow. He was charging their way. “Get off her!”

Before Freddie or Theo could fully react, Kyle reached them. He slammed into Theo, and they crashed to slick pavement.

Freddie almost crashed too, but somehow she managed to scrabble backward just in time. “Stop it!” she shrieked, and she vaulted after them. “Stop it!” She grabbed at Kyle’s shirt and pulled with all her strength. But it wasn’t enough. Not even close.

Kyle was flailing and Theo was flailing and punches were flying everywhere.

More Jeep doors opened. Then voices zoomed in—and people came with them. First was Luis, grabbing for Kyle along with Freddie. Cat followed next, shouting at Kyle to calm the hell down!

And last was Divya, shouting at Freddie, This was why you didn’t answer your phone?

Freddie didn’t respond to her best friend. She couldn’t. Not through all the chaos, not with everyone yelling and Kyle still whaling on Theo and Theo still whaling on Kyle, and both of them tumbling over snow-sodden asphalt. They were a tangle of shadows spotlit by headlights.

Only with Luis’s help and three more grunting tugs did Freddie finally wrench Kyle off of Theo. Then while Luis towed Kyle away, Freddie dropped to the ground beside Theo. His white uniform shirt was soaked through and streaked with parking lot filth. And his eyes…

Oh, his blue eyes were wild with rage.

Freddie offered him a hand. He didn’t take it. Instead he shoved to his feet unaided and barked, “What the fuck, Friedman? What the fuck ?”

“What the fuck to you!” Kyle roared, trying to break free from Luis. But Cat lunged in and grabbed him too. “What were you doing to her, Porter?”

“ Doing to her?” Theo huffed a laugh. “It’s called making out, Friedman. See, when a guy and a girl like each other very much—”

“Freddie doesn’t like you,” Kyle interrupted. “Right?” He swung his gaze to Freddie. “Tell him that you don’t like him and that you…” Kyle trailed off. Then abruptly stopped struggling against Cat and Luis.

And for the first time since his arrival, he looked at Freddie. Like looked at her. “You’re wearing his jacket,” he said slowly.

Freddie gulped. Then nodded.

“So you wanted…”

Another nod. “Yeah, Kyle. I did.”

“But I thought… I thought we were…” He motioned between them. “I mean, you wore my jacket on Friday, Freddie.”

“I’m sorry,” she replied, even though she actually wanted to scream: THAT DOES NOT MEAN WE ARE DATING .

And yes, she might’ve had a crush on him last Friday, but as far as she could tell, she had done nothing whatsoever to lead him into expecting more.

Not to mention, they had spent all of high school in the same homeroom and Kyle had never ever noticed her before.

Now suddenly he liked her and was jealous?

But that was a problem to be dealt with later. Right now, Freddie had five people gaping at her—and all of them waiting for her to do something.

Divya was the one that Freddie turned to first. She hated the confusion knitting over Divya’s brow. She hated the disappointment sloping across her lips.

“I’m sorry,” Freddie said again, and unlike with Kyle, she meant it this time. “I was going to tell you.”

“Going to tell her?” Cat demanded. “Tell her what? That you’re consorting with the enemy?”

“I have a name,” Theo muttered.

“Yeah,” Kyle snarled. “Douchebag.”

“Eat it.” Theo puffed out his chest—which prompted both Kyle and Luis to puff out theirs.

And suddenly she’d had enough. The posturing. The pointless hatred between two sides. Montagues and Capulets that could only resolve their differences through murder . It was stupid, stupid, stupid. But before Freddie could bark STOP THIS! at all of them, Divya stepped in and beat her to it.