Page 63 of A Little Kissing Between Friends

And then, before I could think it through, I leaned forward with the intention of placing a kiss at the corner of her mouth. To my surprise, my intentions were clocked and then immediately foiled, as Poppa swiveled her head a few millimeters to the left just before I made contact.

You know that feeling when you’ve been traveling for days, or even weeks, and you’ve been sleeping in hotel beds and eating restaurant food for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and you’ve been wearing your shoes more than ever because you aren’t at home so you don’t feel comfortable walking around barefoot in a strange place, but then. Then you get home, and you kick off your shoes, and you eat food you cooked, and you shower in your own tub, and you jump naked under your own sheets, and everything smells like home and warmth and yours?

That was the feeling that consumed me when my lips accidentally on purpose landed on Poppa’s. It had only been weeks since we’d kissed in any capacity, but, no matter how hard I willed it to not be true, Poppa was my home and kissing her felt like getting my footing after stumbling over and over.

And when her arms encircled my waist and her hands splayed against the small of my back, I felt that very same rush of rightness I’d felt the first time our kisses took on a new meaning. Everything about me being in Poppa’s arms, her lips urgently coaxing mine to open for her impending exploration felt rightrightright in the best of ways. And as instinctively as I bent to tie my shoe after stepping into it, I opened for her. The moment her tongue touched mine, the jolt of arousal shocked me into awareness and I realized that I was doing the very thing I’d been avoiding for weeks. How quickly I became weak in the knees when it came to this woman.

I froze, ceasing all movement, and to Poppa’s credit, she echoed my movement, or lack thereof. Pulling away from her, I broke our connection and stepped out of her arms, averting my eyes, not wanting to see whatever expression she wore.

“Sorry,” I whispered, sucking in a fortifying deep breath before I reached up and swiped at the lip gloss that had transferred onto her mouth. It had become tacky after the hours-long nap I’d taken and took a little pressure to get it all off, but I ignored how she stood there and allowed me to do it. “It’s a habit.”

Backing away from her, I pulled open the door and left the room, forcing myself not to turn around as I entered the kitchen and headed for the front door.

Chapter Eighteen

Cyn

Daddy’s Girl

I was once again in that space where shit just felt...off.

There was an explanation this time, but no solution in sight, which was as helpful as a bag of nails when trying to change a tire.

I went the one place where I didn’t have to think. Of course, that meant that I ended up in my parents’ front room, an acoustic guitar propped in my lap as I absentmindedly plucked at the strings. My mama took one look at my face, stared me down for a long minute, and then pulled me in for a tight hug before setting me loose. She left me to my own devices and my daddy replaced her presence less than five minutes later.

“What’s going on with you and Juleesa?”

Sighing, I closed my eyes and hung my head as I continued playing the random tune. I sought out this music room in hopes of escaping the signs of Jucee in my own home, but I should’ve known that I wouldn’t be able to go too long without hearing her name. Not with how entangled our lives had become. And especially not with the way my mama had mugged me when she opened the door fifteen minutes earlier. I honestly expected my daddy to appear in the doorway sooner.

Unsure of how I wanted to answer his question, I boomeranged another back at him.

“What made you ask that, Daddy?”

My eyes were still closed, but I heard the soft slap of his house shoes against the wood as he moved farther into the room. The rush of air leaving the cushions of the chair on my right let me know he sat beside me. Once he settled, the slow, deliberate inhalation of breath through his nose alerted me that he was about to speak.

“Well,” he began in that easygoing tone that always brought me comfort like a warm blanket on a cold day, “your mama said Juleesa has declined her invitation for lunch three times in two weeks. I thought she was being a little dramatic—that Juleesa is probably just busy—but hearing that solemn melody you’re playing told me everything I need to know.”

Immediately, my fingers stilled on the strings and my eyes popped open. That dull ache in my chest throbbed and I lifted a hand to rub at the spot. Twisting my neck, I turned to face my daddy. There was no judgment on his face. His brows were raised; the look he wore was expectant. He was waiting for me to tell him what was going on.

My face crumpled and eyes stung as I tried unsuccessfully not to cry.

“I fucked up,” I whined, setting the acoustic on the floor by my feet, feeling like I was eleven years old again and had to admit to my parents that I’d accidentally dropped a plate while washing dishes.

And just like he did back then, my daddy pulled me against his chest and let me cry it out while he rubbed my back and assured me that worse things had happened. Logically, I knew that he was right, but in that moment my world felt wonky. Everything was knocked off of its axis and nothing was running the way it was supposed to. It was weird because the only thing that changed was Jucee’s presence, but somehow that affected every aspect of my life excluding the music.

Except...according to my daddy, that was affected as well.

I sobbed harder. What the hell had I done? Every time I feel like things with Jucee are close to being perfect, they get fucked up. I fuck them up. Why couldn’t I just let things play out? Why did I have to ruin everything?

When I finished, my daddy leaned back and looked at me. I watched his eyes rove my face, taking in my damp cheeks and red eyes.

“You feel better?”

It was what he’d always asked us after giving us time to cry, and the familiar question made me smile. I nodded and moved back to my abandoned chair.

“Good.” He pinned me with a look. “Now, what are you going to do to fix things with Juleesa?”

“I don’t know if I can.”