Page 5 of Bad Boys Don’t Date Clumsy Girls

Chapter Three

Sam flings the front door open with dramatic flair. “I’m in love!”

I laugh. “So, you’ve said.”

Bek stands in the huge entryway behind Sam, her head cocked and a misty expression on her face. “She says this one is the real thing.”

“She always says that.” I raise my eyebrows at Sam, who blocks the doorway with her arms spread wide, her head thrown back, and a grin as bright as the chandelier hanging over their heads. I duck under her arm and enter the house. “So, what is it that makes Andrew special?”

“First, I think he has a master’s degree in the art of kissing.” Sam hugs herself and pretends to swoon.

“Really?” My eyes bug out. Sam has strict dating rules that this knowledge violates. “You know that already?”

Sam shrugs but her grin gives away her excitement. “What can I say? I’m irresistible.”

“What’s second?” Bek asks, as her brow furrows in confusion.

Sam leads us up the large sweeping staircase toward her room. Bek flits along in her wake, but I trip on the first step and end up on my knees. Luckily, the plush carpeting cushions my fall.

“What do you mean, what’s second?” Sam asks. “You okay, Ava?”

“Sure,” I say, tripping up the next step as well, but able to avoid a fall.

“Well,” Bek breathes. “You said, ‘First, he’s a good kisser.’ So, what’s second?”

Sam waves a dismissive hand as she skips across the second-story landing. “There is no second. He’s just a really good kisser.”

I step into Sam’s huge walk-in closet to hang my bag on the hook designated just for me. There is even an adorable wooden plaque hanging over it with my name carved into it. The closet is as big as the bathroom Joel and I share. The thought makes my heart stutter. We won’t be sharing it much longer. I stare at my duffle, but don’t really see it. Instead, I’m imagining what the bathroom will be like with all his stuff gone. No more electric razor or tiny hairs all over the sink. No more cloud of aftershave hanging in the air for five minutes after he showers. No more picking up his wet towel from the floor and hanging it for him. I shake the maudlin thoughts away and decide right then and there that I will not whine or complain about my life to my friends for the entire weekend.

I exit the closet with my chin up. “Sam, I thought you had a solid no-kissing-besides-a-chaste-goodbye-kiss-on-the-first-date rule.”

“I do! I don’t even know how he got around that.” Sam chuckles. “Well, maybe I have some idea. I was totally enamored by the way his lips move when he talks. I might have been staring at them the entire date.” Sam screws up her own lips and crosses her eyes, making me laugh and Bek shake her head. “Perhaps he took that as an invitation.”

I straighten. “He didn’t force you to do anything you didn’t want to do, did he?”

Sam plops her butt onto the bed. “No, honestly, it was only one kiss, but it was a really good one.” She fans herself.

“Will you see him again?” Bek asks.

“I hope so.” Sam collapses backward onto her mattress, her silky blond hair fans out around her. “He said he would text me, but we all know that doesn’t always happen.”

I can’t help my dramatic eye roll. It always happens for Sam.

Bek taps her finger against her lip. “Is this the guy you met at yoga?”

Sam crawls to the head of her bed and settles cross-legged against the tufted headboard. “No, that was Jimmy. Almost a month ago. I met Andrew at the sushi food cart on Division Street.”

“Oh, that’s right.” Bek’s airy voice always reminds me of Snow White, even though with her short sun-streaked tawny hair, she looks nothing like the Disney princess. “Sushi Guy! We should keep calling him that. It helps me to remember.”

“Okay, Bek.” Sam grabs the remote from her bedside table and turns on the television. “We’ll call him Sushi Guy for you. Anyone in the mood for pizza? I’m buying.”

As Sam selects the show we’re binge-watching, I crawl onto the bed to curl up next to her. “I’d love some pizza!’

“No anchovies,” Bek says, as she folds her tiny body into the retro ball lounge chair she always sleeps in.

“We’ve literally never ordered anchovies,” Sam grumbles, as she places the order on her phone.

The drama of the show sucks up all our attention. We reluctantly pause it when Sam’s phone dings with a text that the pizza has been delivered. When she scrambles off the bed, I follow her downstairs to grab drinks while she retrieves the pizza.

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