Page 61 of P.S. I Loathe You


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I just roll my eyes and set my juice down—out of Wes’s reach—so I can make up my tea.

“So, Kira,” Wes says as he sips on his milkshake, “what’s new in the world of floristry?”

Kira’s eyes narrow. “Are you seriously asking me about my job right now?”

Wes shrugs. “Isn’t that what people normally do when they go out for brunch? Catch up on each other’s lives?”

She considers him for a long moment before responding. “Okay then, seeing as how we’re catching up. I’d like to know what you’re doing with my brother.”

“Having a ton of really hot sex,” Wes says without missing a beat.

“Is that all it is?” Kira presses. Her tone is neutral, but I can tell by the white knuckled grip she has on her mug that it’s costing her to ask these questions about my sex life.

Wes gives my thigh a gentle squeeze before responding. “That’s kind of between Devon and me, don’t you think?”

It’s strange how relieved I feel right now to hear him evade the question rather than answer in the affirmative. I have no idea when it happened, but that question’s been getting more and more difficult to answer recently, and I’m glad to know I’m not the only one struggling with it.

I rest my own hand on top of Wes’s, sliding my fingers between his. He gently shifts his hand so his is palm up underneath mine before linking our fingers again. It’s such a simple gesture, but at the same time it feels monumental; like the first time we cuddled. Holding hands is just something we’re going to do from now on, I can tell.

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