Page 20 of Friends Don't Kiss

And that was all fake. Imagine if it hadn’t been! Although not sure it could get any better than that. But then again, it was Colton. Shit, he really should get a girlfriend. So much wasted potential there.

“I’m sorry we fooled you.” I suppose our private jokes, the way we finish each other’s sentences, all that didn’t exactly point to a fake relationship.

“Nothin’ to be sorry about, kiddo. You did what you had to do. Your mother, ah…” He lets his sentence hang, a growl summarizing his thoughts.

I let out a short, bitter laugh. “Yeah, you’d think of all people, she’d have seen it.”

“Aw, sweetheart, people only see what they want to see. Deep down, your mom, she wants to see you happy with a man. You bring her a man, she’s not gonna wanna look beyond that. ’Specially with how happy you both looked.” He stays silent for a while, and I ponder his words, the migraine threatening to come back as the pain from the past stabs me.

My dad had been leading a double life. A family here, another one elsewhere. We were his other family. I might have had older half-siblings. When I found out, my life—all our lives—exploded. Since we never should have existed anyway, he chose them over us. We were only his dirty secret. His mistake.

Uncle Bill clears his throat. “You gonna be okay, Spitfire?” He must be thinking about the same thing I am.

“Yeah, been a long time.”

“Oh, I wasn’t talking about the asshole. I was talking about Colt.”

Colton? “Sure! Why?”

His only answer is a half-formed groan. “Say, you don’t mind if I keep seeing him, right?”

I smile, happiness spreading through me. “He’s my friend, Uncle Bill. Not my ex. I’d love for you guys to hang out.” It’s the best thing that’s come out of Grams’ birthday party, this new friendship between Uncle Bill and Colton.

After I hang up, I feel lighter. I couldn’t stand it if I had to lie to Uncle Bill. Or worse, tell him Colton and I broke up. He’d be sad, and he’d lose a friend. None of this needs to happen now. Being truthful is always the best course of action.

Well, most of the time. No way am I telling Mom and Maya it was fake. The look on their faces when Colton introduced himself as my boyfriend? Priceless. He did good. I was, like,“Eat this, bitches!”Yeah, yeah. Not how you’re supposed to talk about your family, or anyone, really, but that’s what they are. Bitches.

Speaking of bitches—the good kind. I reach for my phone.

To; Bitch Brigade [Grace, Alex, Emma, Willow, + 5 more]

Gonna need a ride

Willow

Already on my way

Nice.

Recently, the Bitch Brigade started hanging out on Sunday mornings at Easy Monday, the best coffee shop in town, owned by Millie, a sort of hippie dreamer who also opened a weed shop called 420 on the other side of her coffee shop. Her coffee is my one luxury expense of the week, and I make it count. All my friends are there. We plop on Millie’s super comfy couches, read the dirty books she has on display, and talk. Some would call it gossip. Whatever, it’s fun. My favorite part is the reading.

There’s also a game night going on every Thursday. We also go there, but so do a lot of other women in Emerald Creek. It’s a different vibe. Real gossip. And we drink wine, not coffee. But there are no books.

I pull my hoodie on and slip into my boots and coat. As I get out of my apartment—backward so I can lock the door after me—I slam into a hard mass of muscle.

“You going to church, grasshopper?” Colton’s deep voice seeps into the deepest confines of my body. It never was that way. God that’s annoying!

“Yeah. I’ll say a lil’ prayer for ya.” I step to the side to get to the staircase, but he slides sideways, blocking my way. “Move.”

“You forgetting something.”

“Yeah?” I tilt my head back to look him in the eye, but my gaze stops at his lips. Without my heels on, Colton’s mouth is more out of reach. I wonder how low he’d have to stoop to kiss me now, if—

“You done?” That possessive mouth of his morphs into a smile.

I snap my eyes higher, trying to fight the blush I feel creeping up my cheeks for having been caught in the act of staring at his mouth. “What’d I forget?” Certainly not the kiss. Godohgod please make him not mention the kiss.

He wiggles his fingers at me. “Car keys.”

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