Page 15 of That Kiss

“Maybe it just needs to be the right man.” She focuses her attention on the pot, reducing the heat to low.

“How can I make it up to you?”

“Come to my birthday thing this weekend,” she says without missing a beat.

“You’re having a party?”

“No, but your sister insisted we all go out, so she sent a group text. You didn’t get it?”

“No.” I shake my head then walk over to my phone to double-check.

“Weird,” she shrugs, “she probably figured you wouldn’t be interested.”

“Why wouldn’t I be interested?” I drop my phone back onto the counter, my attention now fully on her.

“Ya know . . .” She laughs but doesn’t explain further.

“I don’t think I do know.” I walk over to where she can see me and lean against the counter.

“Nothing.” She keeps her focus on stirring the food.

“Juniper,” I say her name and she looks over at me, “why wouldn’t she invite me?”

Her eyes dart back but I reach my fingers out and hook her chin, pulling her toward me. “I won’t ask you again.”

“Because she thought I still had a boyfriend.” She blurts it out in a rush, her cheeks flaming.

“And why would that factor into whether I’m invited or not?”

“Oh, please,” she drops the spoon onto the counter and wipes her hands on the towel next to it, “can we stop with the denial already? I’m not some pariah, so is it really so awful and disgraceful that I had a crush on you growing up?” She shakes her head. “It’s like nobody can just let that shit go around here.”

Had? Had a crush?

I selfishly get so hung up on that word—the past tense of that word, to be exact—that I almost miss her marching right by me. “Hey, hey, wait!” I grab her arm and pull her back toward the kitchen so I can look at her. “Where are you going?”

She stares up at me, her eyes shifting away from mine. “Home. I’m exhausted from work and now cooking.”

“You’re not a pariah, Juney. I’m sorry I ever made you feel that way. Please stay and eat.” We both stand there for several seconds, my hand still resting on her arm. I can tell myself not to do it a million times over, but it’s not going to stop me. My hand slowly glides over her skin, up her arm, till it settles against her neck. I tilt my head slightly, about to close the distance between us, when she steps back.

“I should go. Enjoy the dinner.”

She grabs her keys and walks out of the kitchen. A few seconds later, the loud thud of the front door closing snaps me back to reality.

Chapter 8

Juniper

My heart drums in my chest as I rest my back against his front door. I close my eyes for a brief second, catching my breath before jogging down the front steps toward my car.

I know I’ll be kicking myself tomorrow for walking out when I did, but right now, it was the best thing I could do. I could feel myself spiraling, and I was minutes away from letting it all come out. Seconds away from finally telling Decker exactly how I feel about him. But this isn’t how I want to tell him—I don’t want it to be through tears and pathetic pleas.

I really am exhausted—so much so, it’s all I can do to make myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and trudge upstairs to my childhood bedroom. Yet another thing I need to make time for: house hunting. It’s also been something that’s holding me back from telling Decker how I feel about him. I want him to take me seriously as an adult—as a grown woman who has her own place—not a kid living in her parents’ house.

A second later, I get a text from my parents. It’s a picture of their faces smooshed into frame accompanied by a good night, we love you message. I smile at the picture and send them a text back. They’re somewhere on the California coast at the moment, soon to be heading through the southern half of the United States.

A few seconds later, I get a text from Decker.

Decker: Hey, sorry about earlier, I didn’t mean to upset you. I hope you made it home safe? I’ll see you at your party this weekend. Wouldn’t miss it ;)

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