What A Kiss Is

Chapter One

One

Mom shuffles in the door of our apartment and by the sound of paper bags, she’s brought home food.

“Need help?” My laptop’s on my lap, and my feet are stretched out on the coffee table. I click refresh on my email, just to make sure I don’t have anything new before jumping back into writing.

“No, thanks, Antony. I got it.” She steps around the corner from our hole of a kitchen.

Mom’s wide smile spreads across her angled face. She flicks her short, dark hair back as she walks into the room. “I brought Moroccan.”

“Awesome.” I set my laptop on a chair, and clear my home school crap from the top of the coffee table, shoving it onto the shelf underneath. “What’s the occasion?”

She hates picking up food, and they don’t deliver. It’s a shame, really. Almost every restaurant in New York delivers…well, except the ones I want to.

She sets the large brown bag on the table and moves toward the kitchen, where we keep our coats. “No occasion. I got a assignment offer the other day that I wanted to talk to you about.”

Mom comes around the corner, and flops back onto the couch. “When did my son get so grown up?” She ruffs my dark brown hair.

“Last year. I think it was October.” I smirk. “And watch the hair.” I point and scoot away, but we’re both smiling. Looking into Mom’s dark brown eyes is like seeing my own. I look a lot like her—same hair, same angled face. Most guys might hate that, but I don’t mind.

“Very funny.” Her hand reaches up and touches my hair more softly this time, playing with the ends. “You need a haircut.”

The way she’s staring at me puts me on edge. “I do not need a cut. And since when do you care what I do with my hair?” I try to tease, but the intensity of her look keeps my chest pounding.

Her smile falls.

Yep. Something’s up.

My stupid heart beats even harder, which sucks, cause it means something big’s about to happen.

“Next assignment is in Africa.” She pulls her short legs up on the couch.

I’m speechless. This isn’t a definite “Antony comes” kind of place. Mom has this idea that there are countries in the world that are safe enough for her, but not for me. I’m not sure yet which way this one’ll go. It sucks cause I almost always get to go.

Mom’s worked on the Today show forever, but she also does stuff for the other news networks in the same media group. She’s on TV often, but has the cool advantage of traveling all over the world. I get to follow most of the time—hence the home schooling and tutors.

“Cool, how long will we be there?” I ask, even though part of me is just waiting for her to—

“I’m going alone.” Her shoulders fall.

Dread edges its way into my gut, creating a black pit that weighs me down.

She turns to face me, bringing a knee to her chest. Whatever’s coming, I know I’m not going to like it. This is one of those moments when I wish I could stop time or something, or maybe jump ahead—that might work too. Anything to avoid what she’s about to say.

“Look, I know you barely know your father…”

My dad? What on earth could he have to do with this? Oh. Wait. “No, no no no no.” I shake my head. “He’s like, I mean…we’re not…” No way would she send me there without her. Would she? But the weight in my stomach just doubled in weight and size.