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“Not yet.”
Bad gut clench.
“I want to be sure I’m good at it before I do.”
“That’s a terrible plan,” he told her.
She frowned.
“You showed up looking like aliteralgoddess, and he didn’t ask you out. Now you’re just gonna grab him and kiss him? Maybe you should ask him out for coffee or something first.”
“I’ve been flirting with him for four months,” she said, clearly exasperated. “New Year’s Eve is the perfect chance. There’s a good reason to just kiss him. And then I’ll find out how he feels about that. If he kisses me back, then I’ll know he’s interested. If not, then he’s not. And I can quit thinking about it.”
“You know the difference?” Beau asked, suddenly feeling downright annoyed.
“The difference?”
“Between just kissing him and him kissing you back?”
“I…think so.”
“You’ve been kissed before, right?”
Did he want to know this? No. Did he need to know? For some reason, yes.
To give her good advice. Sure. That was why. Or that sounded like a good reason anyway. If she’d never kissed a guy, then this was a different ballgame. It was one thing for her to have never had sex—and yes, he absolutely remembered that little piece of info from her friends in October—but to never have been kissed was entirely different.
“Yes, I’ve been kissed.”
“And did you kiss that guy or did he kiss you?” Beau pressed.
“Um…he kissed me.”
“Was it your birthday or mistletoe or another New Year’s Eve thing or was it a kiss on a date or what?” Was he torturing himself with this? Yes, he was.
“Kind of in between,” she said with a little frown. “It was the Fourth of July.”
“Someone kissed you on the Fourth of July?”
She nodded.
“Just out of the blue?”
“We were outside Ellie’s watching fireworks. He turned to me with a big grin and said that it was a little-known tradition to kiss a pretty girl whenever a really bright, beautiful firework went off. He said nothing would make the forefathers and all the soldiers who fought for our freedom happier.” She gave Beau a little smile. “How could I say no tothat? I mean, I’m a good American.”
He rolled his eyes. “It was Zeke Landry, right?”
She laughed. “Yep.”
Zeke Landry was a good time, there was no question. He was also a shameless flirt. And full of bullshit up to his eyeballs.
“Who else?” Beau asked.
“Mitch Landry kissed me one New Year’s Eve a couple years ago.”
“Anyone whoisn’ta Landry?” Beau asked dryly. He presumed that most girls in the parish had been kissed by at least one Landry boy at some point.
“Ben Watkins kissed me after the Homecoming dance our Junior year.”
