Page 47 of A Little Kissing Between Friends

Pushing back from the table, Jucee hiked her purse up onto her shoulder.

“I’m going to go.” Standing, she took her tray to the nearby trash can, emptied her refuse into the bin, and slid the tray onto the waiting rack.

Disentangling Jackie from my limbs, I stood to my feet, not liking the random panic that shot me in the gut at the abrupt way Jucee had gotten up from the table. If she tried to walk out of the building without giving me some affection and a proper goodbye, I was going to riot. I wasn’t going for that shit two days in a row. I couldn’t explain the feeling—wasn’t at all sure why it even seemed like a possibility when we didn’t move like that.

She turned from the bin and headed right back to our table—right back to me—and I blew out a relieved breath. When she saw me standing, the corner of her mouth quirked up. I spread my arms, not even giving her a chance to do anything other than hug me. Her arms encircled my neck as she stepped into my hug, laughing when I squeezed her to me tighter than was necessary.

That laugh was the right one. The force of the thought knocked the wind out of me.

Her head fell backward as her laugh tapered into a giggle as I dropped a loud kiss on her cheek.

“You really do the most sometimes,” she scolded as I released her. “You know that?”

Though she glared, I could see the amusement on her face, and better than that, I could hear it in her voice. My panic had subsided, allowing me to mirror the grin on her face. We were good. That’s all I needed.

“I’m well aware,” I replied before tilting my head to the side, offering my cheek for the kiss she’d yet to give me.

Snorting, she grasped my face a little roughly, causing my brows to furrow as she pulled me closer. But when she leaned in quickly and then paused just before her lips made contact, I found myself holding my breath. A million and seventeen thoughts flitted through my brain in the millisecond that passed before she brushed her lips across my cheek, in what was barely a kiss but also felt like so. Much. More.

An abstract beat popped into my head, and I closed my eyes to focus in on it, not wanting to lose it just because I was out in public. Jucee released me, putting some space between us, making my eyes pop open at the loss of her energy in my bubble. She wore a knowing smile.

“Mmhm, I recognize that look.”

I chuckled, because of course she did. She knew me too well.

Her smile stretched into a sticky sweet, false imitation of the one I was used to seeing as she turned to the table. To my surprise, Jackie’s head was bent as she stared at her phone. It had only been a few seconds, twenty at most, but somehow Jackie had checked out. Jucee stared her way for a beat before shaking her head.

“Enjoy your yoga session, Jackie.” When the woman neither peeled her eyes from the screen nor offered a nod of acknowledgement, Jucee slid her gaze right back to me.

She didn’t have to say a word—everything she was thinking was written all over her face. And, to be honest, I’d get it even if I hadn’t looked her way. Jackie was being incredibly rude. I shook my head, ready to apologize, but Jucee lifted a hand to stop me.

“Nah, it’s good. I’ll call you later, Poppa.”

At that, Jackie lifted her face from her phone and finally looked at Jucee. In my peripheral, I could see her face scrunch, her nose wrinkling as if she’d heard something bad. She turned to me, her expression suddenly more confused than disgusted.

“Why does she call you Poppa?”

Jucee’s eyebrows shot up, and she gave me an indecipherable look before huffing a laugh that was anything but amused. It wasn’t her usual laugh, didn’t have the same melody that had made my heart pound at VR that night. The notes of this laugh were short and sharp, coated in annoyance and riding a resigned rhythm.

“She,” Jucee emphasized, her head cocked to the side as she stared at the side of Jackie’s face, “is right here and fully capable of answering a question.”

Eyes wide, Jackie turned to Jucee and lifted her hands, clearly not wanting the smoke she’d ordered.

“Oh em gee!” she squealed, straightening up. “I didn’t mean any disrespect!”

Bullshit.

I didn’t understand the animosity that Jackie apparently held for Jucee, but one thing I did know was she meant each and every shred of disrespect she’d launched at my friend over lunch.

“Mmhm,” Jucee hummed, unconvinced. Without saying another word, she spun on her heel and walked off.

It took me a second to realize she was actually leaving, but I caught up to her before she passed the second set of columns in one of the halls that bracketed the main area of food market.

“I’m sorry,” I was saying before she even had a chance to come to a full stop.

Turning to me, she quirked an eyebrow and patted my cheek. “I know. Handle your shit, Poppa. If that means that we can’t do more of these forced, fake-ass happy-go-lucky-looking-ass lunches until then, so be it.”

To say she was irritated would have been an understatement. And I got it. I swear I did. For the second day in a row, Jackie had not only shown up unannounced, but she was kind of stealing my attention that should’ve been reserved for Jucee. But that shit pissed me off so bad. There was nothing fake or forced about the time she and I spent together. Never. My jaw clenched, and I blew a heavy breath out through my nose before I spoke.