Page 61 of Bad at Love
“Jesus. What a piece of shit.”
“I know. She kicked them out but she can’t be alone.”
“Marina, I completely understand.” I look around for the nearest waiter and signal for him to come over. “We haven’t even ordered the main courses yet, we can just pay up and go.”
“But the appetizers,” she protests feebly. “We won’t be able to eat them.”
“It’s just food,” I tell her. “Your friend is more important.”
“But you’re my friend too.”
I nearly snap at her but I manage to rein it in. “Iknow. And I’m sure if the roles were reversed you would be coming to my side. You’re a sound friend, you know that? No one is going to fault you for always wanting to take care of people.”
So I get the bill, pay for the drinks and appetizers we didn’t get a chance to eat, and then I drive Marina home.
She’s silent for most of the drive, on the phone texting Naomi, maybe even Jane.
By the time I pull up to her house, I’m exhausted by everything all of a sudden.
“I am so sorry,” she says to me again, taking off her seatbelt, her features shadowed by the streetlight.
“Me too. We’ll just…”
“Do it again,” she says quickly. “Not at Mr. Chow. Let’s just watch a movie. Call it date three point five.”
“Shouldn’t it be date two point five?”
She sighs, looking overly forlorn, which I’ll admit makes me feel a bit better. “I was really looking forward to this.”
I try and brush it off. “Yeah, well, shit happens. I?—”
Before I can finish my sentence, she twists in her seat and leans across the center console, grabbing my face.
She kisses me so hard I feel my heart still with the shock of her impulse, her fingers pressed into my jaw, one hand going through my hair and giving my strands a sharp tug.
I moan into her mouth, my tongue sliding in against hers as the kiss deepens. I’ve been needing this so fucking bad and now that I have it again, I don’t want it to ever stop. My dick is already so hot and hard in my dress pants, it’s almost painful.
“Marina,” I whisper harshly, impatient, trying to undo my seatbelt so I can kiss her better, harder, messier. I want to throw her back against her seat, get between her legs, feel every inch of that decadent dress and her soft skin underneath.
But then she’s pulling away and staring at me with huge eyes, her mouth wet from my mouth. “I have to go,” she says quietly.
Then she quickly gets out of the car, shuts the door behind her and heads through the gate down the side of the house.
Gone.
Holy fuck.
What the fuck just happened there?
And holy fuck…
When can that happen again?
CHAPTER NINE
MARINA
“WORLD IN MY EYES”
