Page 38 of Never Kiss and Tell

As big of an asshole as he is, no one should have to endure that. Even Drew didn’t do something like that.

“What’s worse, is she keeps coming around, playing with him.”

“Yeah, I know,” I grumble. “Remember?”

“I mean, she’s trying to get back together with him. I can feel it and I don’t like it.”

It feels like acid is burning my tongue. I completely agree with Andi and as much as it pains me to say it, I’m a minuscule, tiny, microscopic bit jealous. Just a little. It’s not that I like Charlie — I’ve never met a man who pisses me off more — he’s just the first male interaction I’ve had in months. Nothing will come of it, but if Charlie’s going to go off the market, I would rather it be with a nice girl.

I think.

Until then, Priscilla can get her own.

“What does your dad say?”

She rolls her eyes, placing the twentieth jar to the side.

“He doesn’t know what to think. He doesn’t like her, but he can’t really tell Charlie what to do.”

“He can banish her.”

Andi laughs. I hadn’t realized my idea was that outlandish.

“I’ve tried. He won’t do it.”

“Well, shit,” I mumble, stabbing flowers into a vase.

“Charlie just needs a good girl to show him how great he is. I mean, he will help anyone. He cares, even if he doesn’t show it. I know he did some shitty things he didn’twant to in order to take care of Mom. Priscilla just makes him feel worthless.”

“How so?”

“Well, I’ve been told she’s the reason he blames himself for mom’s death. If I ever hear her say that, I’ll kick her ass.”

I want to laugh because the thought of Andi beating someone up is funny to me, but I actually think she would for Charlie. She would do anything for her family. She was ready to fight Drew when he cheated on me. I can only imagine what she would do if she heard Priscilla say those nasty things about Charlie.

“Let’s change the subject,” Andi says, untangling a string of lights. “Tell me again how you told Sarah you would sue her if she didn’t leave me alone.”

I snicker, but deep down, I worry I may have caused more problems.

After we finished all thirty jars and ten extras, Andi and I loaded them into the spare room for safe keeping. I had to practically swear in front of a court of law that I would protect them with my life.

Sunday, Andi had a big paper to finish, so she wasn’t around. I didn’t mind. It gave me the opportunity to work on my book, something I’ve been neglecting in the days that I work at the restaurant.

I write most of the day, reaching well over what I ever thought was possible and yet, I’m still unsure if what I have is even publishing worthy. My grandma would buy it, just because she’s sweet. Probably Mason, Savannah, Cora, and Andi. Mom would buy it just to yell at me for the smut. The odds of this becoming anything aren’t in my favor, but I press on, well into the night.

By the time two in the morning rolls around, I’ve rewritten half the book. I settle on a place holder name for sexy-unnamed-heartthrob, choosing Heath, until I can find something better for him.

I had this great idea that the two characters could meet and just instantly be drawn to each other. I’ve since thought it would read so much better if they absolutely loathed each other until one night they spontaneously make-out in a courtyard behind a busy restaurant.

I’m still awake when I hear Charlie come home next door and I debate turning my lights off and pretending to be asleep, but that would be letting the enemy win. Or whatever he is now.

A kiss doesn’t guarantee he’s not still an asshole. Plus, I kissed him, not the other way around. I can’t even explain the thoughts in my head leading up to that moment. It was like I had two tiny Baileys on my shoulders: one an angel, telling me to be nice and do the right thing by walking away, the other was a little devil, telling me to fuck his brains out. You can see which one won that argument.

But he’d kissed me back . . . that’s the part I’m struggling to wrap my head around. I’ve never experienced such atoe-curling, passion-infused kiss in my life — even with Drew.

Before I fall asleep, I google if hate kissing is a thing, but it just takes me to a bunch of Cosmopolitan articles about hate fucking — something I don’t plan on partaking in anytime soon.

Bailey

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