Right. That was my best kiss ever, but not his.
Practice, Katie. This is practice.
I pull away. My skin feels like it’s buzzing. I want to touch my mouth, but a cool, confident girl wouldn’t do that.
“We’re still on for Friday?” I ask. “I have to get the day off.”
“Yeah,” he rasps. He swipes a thumb over his bottom lip, lets it linger. “We’re still on for Friday.”
I want to kiss him again. I close my fingers around the hem of my shorts. I don’t think I have that privilege. “This isn’t going to be weird, right?”
“Not unless you make it weird.”
“I wouldn’t,” I protest.
“You totally would.” His dimple pops. “Don’t make it fucking weird, okay? Like we talked about the other night, remember? If you’re uncomfortable, you can tell me.”
“And you’ll tell me.” I lift my chin.
He smirks. “Sure I will.”
I roll my eyes, but I feel like a half-popped can of soda, my blood fizzing sweet and sparkling below the surface.
I can do this and not make it weird.
I have to.
23
KATIE
“You’repracticingwith him?”
“Just once.” I raise the sparring pads to shoulder height and gesture for Emory to come at me. The memory of yesterday’s kiss is there during every spare moment. Nour is on shift today and with Tristan on his date.
Emmaline is her name. She went to Princeton, just like him. Her message said they were in the same eating club, whatever that is. Nour said things were goingwell.
Emory’s left fist slams into the pad. I absorb the impact.
I don’t want things to go well and it makes me the worst kind of friend.
“How was it?” Emory asks.
I lower my hands and look at my friend. Emory is worldly. She’s brilliant and I swear Aiden literally pants when she’s in the room, though he tries to hide it. They are obsessed with each other, and honestly, I get it. She’s hot and smart and fierce.
I bite my lip. “Really good,” I whisper. There’s a flutter low inside me. “Like I was made of glitter.”
She hums in her throat. “Are you sure it’s just practice for him?”
“One hundred percent.”
“I probably shouldn’t say this—but sometimes he looks at you and the only way I can describe it ishungry.”
The words send shivers racing up my spine, until they’re doused by cold reality.
“Emory.” I flop onto the mat. She joins me. I loop my arms around my knees and rest my chin on the tops, where I have a band-aid from my ill-fated adventure on the obstacle course. “Believe it. I’m not what he wants. He told me that years ago.” I press my lips shut before I can give more away.
Her expression morphs, shock racing over her features. “What did he say?”
