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“Oh, those are great. I’m sure Vincent will love them.”
I blink. “Huh?” I stare at my mom.
“The shirts. I assume they’re for Vincent?”
I look down, not realizing I have five shirts in my hand. “Oh, uh. . .yeah.”
“Well, we better get in line. It’s already wrapped around to cosmetics.”
As I stand there with my hands full of shirts, I wonder if the kiss affected Liam as much as me. He had to be. What if it was payback, and he just wanted to get me all worked up, then leave me high and dry like I did that day? “Mom?”
“Yes, honey?”
“Do you think. . .okay, say two people used to like each other. Like, really like each other, but something happened, and they didn’t anymore. Well, one does, but they were too afraid to admit it. Then they see each other again, and it feels like no time has passed at all, but it did because they both made bad decisions and—”
“Holly, I’m sorry. I’m not following.”
Shit. What was I saying? “Oh, nothing. It’s. . .nothing.” I’m just losing my mind. Kissing my ex, then slapping him, then buying him a new wardrobe. Don’t mind me. The line moves, and I take a few steps up. When did I become so crazy? Don’t answer that, self.
What I do know is I owe Liam an apology. Whether or not we see eye to eye, I never should have slapped him. I have to make it right.
“Hey, Mom, I actually need to go. There’s something I need to do.” I shove the shirts onto a nearby rack and take off, halting moments later to turn back. “Any chance you know where Liam lives? Asking for a friend, of course.”
I’ve never been a picky eater, but I have to say eating crow is not a favorite of mine. To be honest I would not recommend it. Standing outside Liam’s door, I raise my hand to knock but decide against it. Every few seconds I regain my confidence and attempt another knock. While I stand there doing arm work outs, as my hand goes up and down, his neighbor comes home. I wave, still not trying to make myself known. “Great day. Love the doormat.” He eyes me warily and hurries into his place.
“Come on. Just do it. Knock, say sorry, and be on your merry way.” Inhale. Exhale. Maybe I should do this another time. Send an email. Text message? The cool kids are really into Snapchat nowadays—shit! My hand takes control of the situation and shoots out, knocking on his door.
“Why would you do that? I’m not ready!” I hiss to myself. The door opens, and I straighten, hopefully not looking like I’m talking to myself like a crazy person. “Hey! Howdy! Jesus, what are you. . .not wearing?” I slap my hand over my eyes. Liam stands in the doorway in nothing but a pair of sweatpants. Not baggy at all sweatpants. I spread two fingers, shamefully peeking. Abs. So many abs. And…an array of tattoos just over his right peck spreading along his shoulder blade. So many designs over his muscles, so much muscle—shit, I’m staring. “I’m, uh… I’m, uh. . .clearly broken. Looks like I caught you at a bad time. Probably have guests. One who doesn’t take swings at you. Well! Okay, I’m gonna just—”
“You coming in or not?”
I’m not sure it’s safe. “Can….can you maybe put some more clothes on?” Did I just say that out loud? Tell me I didn’t say that out loud.
“You did.”
Dammit! Shut up, Holly.
He steps aside, and I nod, clearing my throat, and walk in. I take in his small apartment. Minimal furniture. A television and kitchen table. A miniature, sad looking Christmas tree in the corner. “Nice place.”
“Does the job,” he says as he grabs a shirt that’s on the back of his couch and tosses it over his head.
“Yeah. Hard to snag good property around these parts. High demand—I’m sorry for slapping you.” There. I said it. Not sure the babbling beforehand was necessary, but it’s out. The problem is, he says nothing back. So, I ramble some more. “And, well. I just. . .it was wrong of me. We shared a nice kiss—more than nice. Explosive. Not to feed your ego, but you’ve definitely been working on your kissing game since the last time I kissed you. Which, actually, I don’t want to know about, because, well, yeah. So, just, sorry. I would like to start over. Wanna go grab some beers?”
Or open your window and throw me out of it?
“Sure.”
I wonder how steep the drop would be if he—“Wait, what?”
“I said sure. Gunther’s Bar and Grill is just next door. You can buy.”
I stand there, waiting for my brain to catch up, as Liam swaps out his sweats and shirt for a pair of jeans and another Henley, then escorts us to the restaurant next door since I’m still in glitch mode. It takes a whole drink before I’m back to myself again.
