Page 36 of A Good Book

His eyes widened. “Rainbow sherbet? Whoa. Someone’s trying to get to second base with you again.”

“Shut up.” I dug my key out of my bag while Ben opened the door for me.

I couldn’t help but murmur a soft “thank-you” because even when I was mad at him, I wasn’t reallymadat him.

As we headed up the stairs, I waited for him to ask me about my date, an “Oh my gosh, tell me everything!” But Ben wasn’t that kind of best friend.

“How was my night? Oh, thanks for asking. It was nice. I discovered I have no exceptional talents, I’m the only one who finds a good book utterly intriguing, and latch hook and macramé aren’t as attractive as one might have thought.”

“Onemight have thought?” He stopped at the door to my floor. “So you’re implying there is at least one person who thought that? Is her name Gabriella Jacobson? And was that your go-to for getting Matt to want to kiss you? Latch hook and macramé?”

“Har, har. Of course not.”

“Oh, thank god.” He pressed his free hand to his chest.

“You’re such a dork.” I grabbed his wrist and shoved his ice cream into his face.

There wasn’t much left, but it was enough to smear it all over his chin, lips, and the tip of his nose. Despite intending to do just that, I was surprised that it worked. I covered my mouth with my hand for a second, eyes wide, as I suppressed a giggle.

Ben narrowed his eyes, and I dropped my hand from my mouth. “Sorry,” I squeaked.

He intentionally let go of the rest of the ice cream cone.

Splat!

I stared at it on the ground for a second. Why did he do that? As I lifted my gaze, he grabbed my face and held it hostage while he smeared the ice cream from his face all over mine.

“Ben!” I grabbed his wrists. “Stop!” I giggled.

He smeared it along my cheeks and mouth, up my nose to my forehead.

“Ben!”

Then he licked it off my face. I couldn’t stop giggling until his tongue swiped along my lips once, twice … and then he kissed me. And I don’t know why, but I kissed him back.

No thoughts.

No reason.

It just felt good.

The ice cream was no longer cold; it was warm, sweet, and sticky between our lips. And he didn’t let go of my face. He gripped it while backing me into the door. I don’t remember when my eyes closed, they just did. Nor do I recall when my lips parted to let the tip of his tongue touch mine. But it happened.

We cleaned every ounce of peanut butter from the proverbial spoon, and I didn’t want it to end. I wanted a second helping.

I wanted the whole jar.

Ben pulled away, leaving me in a puddle just like the ice cream on the floor. For a few seconds, our labored breaths were the only sound in the stairwell as we eyed each other with what felt like confusion and disbelief.

I opened my mouth to speak first, to fill the painfully awkward silence, but someone pushed open the door behind me, giving me a nudge.

“Oh, sorry,” the girl from my floor said, giving us a quick inspection and grinning before jogging down the stairs.

What had we done, and what did it mean?

I caved first, tearing my gaze away from his and making a beeline for my dorm room.

“Gabby,” he called, but didn’t chase me.

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