Page 48 of The Puckable Playbook

She walks over and sits on the couch, and I follow. She bites her lip, and the empty stare she gives the wall prompting me to move closer. She jostles toward me, our shoulders touching. “What’s wrong?”

Leaning into me, she sighs. “I don’t know.”

My immediate instinct is to ask her what that asshole did, but I fight it back. “You can talk to me. We’re friends, you know.”

“I know.” She drums her fingertips over her skin. “It’s kind of embarrassing.”

The heat of her body beckons me, so I lean into her. “Tell me. I am your dating guru. Life coach.”

“Life coach? Now you’re just tossing out job titles.”

“Possibly, but if this is about Clark, I can help.”Help throw him under the bus.

This close, it’s hard to battle back the thoughts I’ve been having about her. I rub my thumb against her thigh.

“Well, we…” She squirms before finally blowing out a breath. “We kissed today.”

Silence fills the space between us. My stomach squeezes, even though I kind of figured that’s what was going on when I walked in, but to have her verify it impacts me more than I thought. Before I can say anything, she blurts out, “I’m not sure I liked it. I’m not sure I did it right. I’m not sure I actually felt something.”

Relief fills me. Call me a terrible person, but I feel it all the way to my toes. I can work with this. “Maybe he’s a bad kisser?”

“Maybe?”

I turn toward her, propping my knee on the couch. “A first kiss can be awkward. Maybe it was the newness.”

“Maybe. Have you ever had disappointing first kisses?”

My gaze inadvertently drops to her lips. “Not since I knew what I was doing.”

She frowns. “Of course you haven’t. I shouldn’t have asked you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, look at you.” She waves in my direction. “You ooze testosterone. You sweep a girl off her feet, lay one on her, and steal her soul.”

“Wait, how did I become a soul stealer? That sounds bad.”

She shakes her head. “It’s the opposite.” Peering away, her eyes dance. “It’s when it’s so good it hurts.”

I reach for her.

She jumps up from her seat, backing away. Her cheeks blaze red.

“You think I kiss like that?”

“I’m a writer. I don’t know what I’m saying.”

I rise to my feet and grab her hand before she can turn away. “Len, you deserve to be kissed like that.” I can picture doing it now, swooping in and claiming a little piece of her for my own, but I want her to want it, too. I want this guy to be only a memory before I make my move. “So, if you’re not feeling it with Clark, maybe that means something?”

“Maybe…”

She tightens her grip on my hand, and the connection between us sparks like live wires. Possessiveness takes over—the same kind that overtook me when Jonesy asked if Len wasavailable. I want her to forget all about Clark, especially with the way she’s staring up at me.

A second later, she swallows, extracting her fingers from my own. “Um, will I see you tonight?”

She avoids my gaze, and I don’t like it. “Bubbles. What time?”

“Eight.”

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