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“You didn’t.”
“I sure as hell did.” He sighs. “She pushed my chest a few times for good measure, lined her lips up with mine, andboommoved in for the mouth-to-mouth save.”
Mesmerized by this story, I lean an elbow on the table and focus on his face. “What happened next?”
His tongue darts out to slick his bottom lip. “I wrapped a hand around the back of her neck and held her in place for what I thought would be the best first kiss ever.”
“Was she receptive?”
A bark of a laugh flows from him. “Hell no she wasn’t. She punched me in the chest and got up to walk away.”
I glance to the left when I see the waiter approaching with a bottle of wine in his hand. “Did that ruin your friendship?”
“Not a chance,” he says. “Two minutes after she punched me, she apologized and told me it wasn’t me. According to her, I wasn’t the worst kisser in the world.”
I can vouch for that too, but I keep that to myself. “Did you ever try and kiss her again?”
“No.” He spots the waiter as he nears our table, but before he gives his attention to him, he smiles at me. “Not long after that, Savi told me that she liked kissing girls as much as I did. I was the first person she told that to.”
That doesn’t surprise me. There’s something about him that is disarming. I can see why people would want to confide in him.
A part of me wants to do that as well, but I don’t know if I ever will.
Chapter Thirty-One
Sean
“Are you and Savannah still friends?”Champ asks as we exit the car in front of our building.
Dinner was magnificent.
The food was decadent, the wine just as delicious, and the company was the best I’ve ever had.
Our conversation ranged from our first kisses to our impressions of growing up in New York.
Calliope has spent all of her life here, working her way through the public school system as well as gracing the halls of NYU with her presence.
Private school was where I began my educational journey, but when I was kicked out in the fourth grade, my dad won the battle of letting me attend public school. I did that until I graduated eighth grade. After that, I was sent upstate to The Buchanan School to follow in my maternal grandfather’s footsteps.
A couple of years spent at Brown University followed that.
“We are,” I tell her. “We don’t talk as much as we used to. Savi lives in Minneapolis now. She and her wife adopted twin boys three years ago.”
She says goodnight to Jurgen before she turns to face me. “It’s nice that you’re still in contact with each other.”
I motion for her to approach the lobby doors. “Do you still keep in touch with your friends from when you were a kid?”
“No,” she says softly. “We all drifted apart.”
That’s a shame.
I’m fortunate in the fact that I have several close friends. I’ve never taken that for granted.
Lester swings open the door. I tuck a few twenties in his palm as I pass him.
His whispered thank you earns a smile from me.
He may be an expert at putting himself in the right place at the right time to earn a generous tip, but he’s intuitive enough to know when not to inject himself in the middle of a conversation.
