Page 25 of More Than Pen Pals

I simply nod, because a lump is forming in my throat, which is a sensation I haven’t felt in a long time. I know I should say something, but I can’t, so I get out of the car and circle around to open her door. She cringes and presses a hand to her belly as she steps out.

“You’re hurting.” I take her other hand to guide her up onto the curb. “You should’ve said.”

“I’ll be fine.” She shivers.

I don’t want her to go, but I also don’t want her to be cold, since she’s no longer wearing my coat. She squeezes my hand, and I realize I’m staring at her bare shoulders and still holding her hand. My gaze moves to her face, but I don’t let go of her. I surprise both of us when my other hand reaches up to cradle her cheek.

“Until next time?” I say as I look down into her eyes. She’s not short, and she’s wearing heels, but I’m still a good seven or eight inches taller than her.

“Yes,” she whispers, but she doesn’t move.

My focus shifts to her mouth, and I consider whether I should kiss her. I want nothing more than to discover whether she tastes as good as she smells, but I’m not sure she feels the same, and I don’t want to screw this up. I swipe my thumb across her cheek, and she shivers again, reminding me she’s freezing. I lower my head and press my lips to her forehead, drop my hands, and stick them in my pockets.

“You should get on inside where it’s warm.”

She nods, wraps her arms around herself, and steps past me. “Next time, Grouchy Smurf,” she says over her shoulder as she walks away.

I smile and keep my eyes on her until she’s safely inside the building, and then I stand there a little longer. I look up at the windows, wondering which one is hers.

“Hey man,” a voice says. “Is that your car? You can’t park there.”

I turn toward a homeless man pointing a small tree branch at my car. “Yeah. Sorry. I’m leaving.” I’m not sure why he cares where I’m parked, but there’s no reason for me to continue standing in the cold, staring at a building.

thirteen

Istep inside my apartment building and collapse into one of the two scratchy orange chairs in the dingy lobby. There’s no way my legs can carry me up three flights of stairs. My forehead burns where Ash pressed his lips to it, and I place my hand where his rested on my jawline.

Why didn’t he kiss me? I’m sure he wanted to. I could see it in his eyes, feel it in his gentle touch. Did he not truly forgive me? Is he punishing me by not giving me what we both so obviously want?

Maybe I wasn’t obvious. Or Ash might not pick up on signals well. I know nothing about how he interacts with women. Wendy did say it’s been a long time since he was in a relationship. Or perhaps he doesn’t kiss on the first date. Not that our dinner was a date. And did he realize my final, “Next time, Grouchy Smurf,” referred to kissing? I’m not fully sure why I used the silly nickname, because he wasn’t grouchy at all tonight.

I slip my heels off and push myself out of the chair. As I pad up the stairs, I think back over the past half hour. Ash did seem to forgive me, and he flirted with me. And hedefinitelywanted to kiss me.

When I open my apartment door, a red light blinks at me from across the room. I’m too tired to call anyone back tonight, but if I don’t listen to the message on my answering machine, the flashing light will keep me awake.

I toss my shoes onto the floor of my tiny closet, slip out of my dress and pantyhose—which are now ruined, thanks to a run from my shoeless trek up the stairs—and pull my Bon JoviSlippery When WetTour T-shirt over my head. I debate whether to wash my face and brush my teeth before checking my messages, and the desire to feel clean wins out.

Finally, I hit the play button on the machine. “Leslie Beckett,” Wendy’s voice screeches out, “if you don’t call me the second you get home tonight, you are not my friend anymore. And if you don’t call by midnight, I’m calling you, even if that means I might be interrupting something … interesting.” She giggles. “Because you shouldn’t be doing that on the first date anyway, you naughty girl.”

I flop down onto my bed. I’m too exhausted to talk to her, but I can’t avoid it. There’s another person I want to talk to first, though. My aunt is usually in bed before now, but she won’t mind if I wake her. I dial her number, and she doesn’t sound sleepy when she answers.

“Everything okay, kiddo?”

“It turns out my friend tricked me tonight. My dinner was with Ash, not her.”

“Oh, wow. Did he forgive you?”

“He did.”

“Was it genuine?”

“I’m ninety-nine percent certain it was.”

“What about the other percent? Why aren’t you completely sure?”

I feel like an idiot saying it, but I know she won’t belittle me. “Because he didn’t kiss me.”

I imagine my aunt’s eyes widening. “You wanted him to kiss you?”

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