Chapter 17
Molly
“What’s wrong with you?” Cleo’s eyes narrowed, her stare prickling Molly’s already sweat soaked skin.
“What do you mean?” Molly buried her face in a towel to mop up her sweat. She’d just gotten home from burlesque practice, every inch of her ached and was sticky with sweat. As it turned out, you couldn’t dance Finn O’Brien out of your system. “There’s nothing wrong with me.”
Lies. She didn’t even believe her own thin, wholly unconvincing voice.
“I mean…” Cleo pointed her open-book at Molly. “What’s going on with your face? You can’t still be smiling.”
“I like dancing.”
“That’s not it.”
“I really like dancing.” Molly patted the towel to the back of her neck and shrugged.
“Enough that you’re practically frolicking around like a Disney princess? I don’t buy it.” Cleo slammed her hardback book shut with a loud pop. “What gives? Did you get laid?”
Molly snorted. She should have been prepared. She should have known that Cleo’s spidey sense would tingle the moment she’d given in to every urge she’d ever had and kissed that freakin’ boy. Cleo wasn’t going to let it go.
“I need a shower.” That might buy her fifteen minutes, twenty at most, but Cleo had picked up a scent and she was going to hound Molly until she caved and told her everything. It was just a matter of time.
ChoCho got up from the gray, battered old recliner in their living room and stood over Molly as she sat on the edge of the couch. Cleo crossed her arms and flattened her mouth. Molly almost laughed out loud. Cleo Martinez was intimidating as hell to just about everyone else. But not to Molly.
“Come on, Molly. Gimme the good stuff.” Cleo crouched down in front of her and batted her eyelids. “If you don’t, I’ll shave your eyebrows off during the night.”
Molly’s mouth dropped open. Bitch wasn’t playing around.
“Or I’ll go straight for the jugular and cut your hair instead.”
“Savage, ChoCho. Utterly savage.” Dropping her towel onto her lap, Molly held her hands up in surrender. “Fine.” She sighed and Cleo squealed.
“It’s Finn, isn’t it? Did you…” She dropped her voice despite them being the only two in the apartment. “You know…” She squeezed Molly’s knee and winked at her.
“Did I fuck him? No!” A wildfire started in Molly’s core and spread to her extremities before she’d finished her sentence. She hadn’t fucked him, but she was going to. She wanted to. Sheachedto. And the very thought lit her up like Time Square yet simultaneously crippled her.
“Then what?”
“We just kissed.” If Molly’s face could get any redder, she’d eat her hat.
Another squeal from Cleo. “And? Was it life altering? Did it melt your panties? Did youswoon?”
Molly couldn’t help but chuckle at her friend’s enthusiasm. “I don’t swoon. And no, our first kiss was pretty unimpressive.”
It was Cleo’s turn to gawp. “But… no… that’s not… what? How? Wait… first kiss? So it wasn’t so bad that you didn’t go back for seconds. Tell me everything. All the details. Don’t leave anything out.” Cleo still crouched before her, she grabbed a mint-green throw cushion from the sofa that said “Nothing quite says I love you like anal,” and cuddled it to her chest.
Molly’s heart felt like two llamas had taken up residence inside and were head-butting both each other and the edges of the organ in her chest. “It’s usually me wanting all the down and dirty deets.”
Cleo waved a dismissive hand. “It’s not every day you give in to your core desires to climb your childhood crush like a tree.”
Molly’s mouth dried up.
“Chingona, Molly! Siiiiiiiii! Youdidclimb him like a tree!”
“He picked me up…”
Cleo fanned herself. “Keep going.”
