Page 914 of One More Kiss

Daniel

I couldn’t’help but smirk as I reread the text I just sent to Tate.

Me: Can I see you, or are you grounded?

I stared at the ellipses as she started to respond.

Tate: I do what I want.

Shaking my head, I chuckled, picturing her acting tough as she typed that.

Me: Okay, good because I’m on my way. What do you want from Human Bean?

Tate: Oooh. Iced americano.

Gross.

Me: No sugar? Cream? FLAVOR??

Tate: Nope. I like my coffee to kick me in the teeth. Take no prisoners, you know?

This girl, I swear.

Me: Well, fuck. Now I feel like a little bitch for drinking Almond Joy lattes.

Tate: You said it…

Me: I’m going to kick your ass.

Me: Be there soon.

Tate: I’ll be waiting.

I slipped my phone into my back pocket, took one last look in the mirror, and headed out the door with the goofiest grin on my face. I had zero clue what I was doing. Despite being popular for most of my life—thanks mostly to sports and having nice things—it was always for the wrong reasons, and I never seemed to have a problem getting girls. That was never a problem. The problem was that they liked me for the wrong reasons. I really didn’t date much. I’d had one serious girlfriend ever—if you could call a high school relationship serious. It had started the summer before junior year and ended shortly after we had graduated.

We were perfect on paper, perfect in pictures, but behind the scenes? It was hard. I wouldn’t allow myself to get close to her. It wasn’t her fault. Jenny was gorgeous and fun. Honestly, she was a great match for me. The fun side of me. The problem, though—that most people didn’t know and wouldn't understand—was that the fun side was only one of many. It was the outer shell that did a great job of masking the inner shitstorm.

Jenny could see there was something going on inside, but I wouldn’t let her close enough to understand it. In the end, that was our demise.

Tate, however, was different. I never intended to meet her, to get tangled up in her, and yet, here we were. Caught in a web, or at least, I was.

I pulled up to her apartment, and she was already standing outside. She had on pair of ripped black jeans, yellow-checkered Vans, and a white Blink 182 crop top.

Was that a navel piercing?

Tate wasn’t my usual type, but damn, that girl, in all her alternative glory, could stop my heart.

I cranked up the music and leaned over the seat to open her door.

Tate shook her head, biting her bottom lip as she got in. “Good Charlotte. ‘The Anthem.’”

“You like?” I asked.

“Obviously. They are so good.”

I nodded in agreement. “Right? Our playlist is growing.”

Her cheeks flushed, and my nerves lit on fire.

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