Page 24 of The Road to Finding Us

13

Lily

Past - Age Nineteen

“Thank you for a wonderful date,” I tell Blaine. We’re both sitting in his car as it idles in front of my brother’s house. I was going to have him drop me off at my apartment, until I realized I left my keys in the pocket of the duffle bag that’s still in Selma’s room. My roommate is forty-five minutes away at her flavor of the week’s house. Lucky for me, my car is still here, as Selma had offered to just drop it off tomorrow with Maverick’s help.

I sent her a text five minutes ago, letting her know there was a small change of plans. She’s yet to respond, but I doubt she and Maverick are anywhere other than home.

“I should be the one thanking you,” Blaine says, reaching across the center console and putting his hand on my leg.

“We can have a mutual thank you,” I respond awkwardly, unsure of what I’m supposed to do with my own hands. Do they go on my leg? In my pockets? Shit, I don’t have pockets.

“Can we show how grateful we are with a kiss?” His bluntness takes me off guard.

I’m sure he can hear my small gasp as I hesitantly look over at him. I give him a shy nod, too stunned to get words out.

He slowly—so freaking slowly—leans across the center console, using his hand that isn’t on my thigh to pull my face closer to him. The air from his mouth tickles my cheek as he draws me closer.

Before I can process anything, his lips cautiously press against mine. The kiss is feather soft and sweet. But right now, the last thing I want is sweet. I lean in even closer, my tongue slipping out and pressing against his closed lips. Just as he opens his mouth to me, a knock on my window has me almost jumping out of my pants.

I mean, I’m not wearing pants, but if I were, I’d have jumped right out of them.

Blaine and I separate in an instant—and I feel murderous when I look at the perpetrator through the window.

“Was he expecting you?” Blaine quietly asks, reaching for his control panel to roll down the window.

“Don’t you dare,” I tell Blaine, before damn near burning a hole right through my window with my eyes.

Aspen stares right back, a smug grin on his face. When I don’t make any attempt to get out of the car, he takes it upon himself to open my door. The sudden rush of cold air, following the recent warmth I’ve grown accustomed to, makes my skin rise with goosebumps.

“Uhhhh…hi, Aspen,” Blaine mumbles, removing his hand from my thigh before running it through his hair. Finally, he rests it on the steering wheel.

Aspen doesn’t even give Blaine a response; he’s too busy staring at me with that stupid ass smirk on his face. “Have fun?” he inquires. That stupid cleft in his chin is obvious, and all I want to do is slap it off him.

I narrow my eyes at him, not dignifying him with an answer. I turn to find Blaine’s uneasy stare. I try to apologize with my eyes, mouthing I’m sorry to him. Then aloud, I say, “I had the best time tonight. Thank you, Blaine.” I reach across and plant a tender kiss on his cheek before I step out of the car.

“I’ll call you,” Blaine says as I shut the door.

Aspen laughs from beside me, muttering something I don’t quite pick up on.

I stomp up the driveway, ignoring the annoying presence right on my heels.

Blaine’s car has just made it down the street when Aspen reaches out and grabs me by the elbow. “Have fun tonight, Lil?” he accuses.

I turn so fast it almost gives me whiplash, my finger instinctively darting out at him. “Don’t even talk to me right now!” The words come out as a shout.

“Awww, are you upset about something? Was Blaine a bad kisser? I could’ve probably told you that. I’ve heard from a few ladies that they were very unsatisfied by him.” His grip tightens on my elbow, reminding me that his grubby paws are still on me.

I rip my elbow from his grasp. “Grow up.”

“So that is why you’re mad?” he says through a wolfish grin.

“I’m mad because I’ve been dying to kiss Blaine Wilcox for an entire year and you just ruined that for me!” I have so much pent up aggression right now, I want to shove him right against the hard chest he has on almost full display with his cutoff T-shirt.

“Trust me, I have it on good authority that he’s a mediocre kisser at best.”

“And what authority is that?” I cock my hip, waiting for him to respond.

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