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And this was just from a kiss.
I need to make sure it doesn’t get worse. I need to draw that line between real and pretend.
To make sure none of it goes below the waist.
Hell, below the neck.
She breaks the silence. “I… I shouldn’t have kissed you. I’m sorry.”
Is she apologizing to me or to this guy who’s her first choice?
I guess it doesn’t matter.
She wants him.
I’m not gonna be the other man.
And I’m not gonna lose her.
“Me too.” The words feel like a lie.
“Anything I should know about this crowd?”
“I’m not sure I know shit about this crowd.”
“Oh?” She lowers the mirror on the visor. Checks her lipstick—still perfect. “You don’t know her friends?”
“The old ones, yeah. But I can’t imagine anyone who liked me is showing up.”
She presses the visor to the roof. Presses her back against the fabric of her seat. “Yeah. You’re the innocent one.”
“I’m not innocent.”
“But you didn’t fuck someone who wears boat shoes.”
“I’d never do that. I’d never be the other man.”
“I know.” Her lip corners turn down.
Is that regret or something else?
I don’t know.
But I want to.
I want every thought in her fucking head.
It’s different than it normally is.
Deeper.
More impossible to ignore.
I turn my attention to the road for the rest of the drive. Leighton taps something into her phone. Work or play or Mr. Powers, I don’t know.
I park.
She slides her cell into her purse. Turns every ounce of her attention to me. “You ready for this?”
