Page 42 of Brace and Chase

I’ve got more than enough reasons to hate him, and I’m not a fucking bigot, so he’s got one less thing to worry about there.

“I need to talk to you about something else.”

“What?” Jules asks, outraged. “You don’t think it’s important that we?—”

“I do think it is important,” I interrupt him. “But this other thing is important-er.” I decide to start speaking badly so Jules will focus on something else. “We can talk about me being benched some other time. I want to talk about how a man kissed me—which was unexpected—and I didn’t pull away. It was... nice,” I settle on.

Jules looks at me slack-jawed, and Bear just tilts his head slightly to the side.

“When you say nice...” Bear starts, leaning forwarduntil his elbows are resting on his knees. “Do you mean nice like when you drink a new brand of vodka and are okay with only that glass, or nice like you want to buy a crate full of them?”

It always amazes me how well Bear knows me. This is the perfect analogy for me.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Jules mutters as he walks to the couch and plops down like he’s lost all strength. “NowIneed a fucking drink.”

I think about mentioning how I have some in the car, but that might raise questions. And I don’t want to talk about moving in with Charlie because that might make them think he’s the man who kissed me.

And I don’t want that.

Getting back to the kiss, though . . .

“I meant nice like I definitely want another glass. Not sure about the crate yet.”

“Interesting,” Bear says, leaning back.

“What does that mean?” I demand.

He snorts.

“I have no fucking clue what it means. Only you know if you wanna bone the dude or just kiss him. Or maybe you were caught off guard and now can’t remember. In any case, I think you need to kissanotherman.”

“Why?” I’m so confused.

“Because then we can see if it’s all men or just this man. Maybe this is a demi thing?” He looks at Jules when he asksthat question, which I’m thankful for since I have no clue what demi means.

“Maybe.” Jules’s soft words don’t inspire a lot of confidence in me.

“Kiss him then,” Bear tells Jules while pointing at me.

“What?” I ask, slightly disgusted. Jules is like my brother.

“What?” Jules’s voice is much louder. He looks disgusted, and though I am too, I act all offended just to get him to lighten up.

“Oh, now I’m not good enough for you? I’m ten years younger than your husband,” I point out.

“So?” Jules asks, standing once more. “You’re not as hot as him. I sure don’t want to kiss you. Why don’t you kiss him?” Jules rounds up on Bear who holds both palms up.

“Drew would kill me. It was bad enough after the disaster dinner,” he says cryptically. Are they talking about the time when they all found out Chris had slept with them? Normally I would focus on the fact that my two friends, who are right in front of me, were attracted enough to Chris to sleep with him—however long ago that was—but all I can think as they bicker and as Jules’s shouts become screeches while Bear just needles him, is that I hope the kids aren’t home.

“And you think Sterling would be fine with me kissing Santa?”

“He sure as fuck isn’t,” comes the deep voice from the rock star himself, right behind me.

I spin and smile down at him.

“No worries, music man.” I pat his shoulder. “My lips have not touched your beloved. We are just talking hypothetically here.”

“You kiss him,” Jules demands, making me turn to him and hopefully find out who he’s offering my lips to now.

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