Page 22 of Getting Lucky Number Seven

“Nah, that’s pretty typical. They actually did a better job than most keeping Beck from scoring, but as you saw, he still snuck in a few.”

“Hmmm.” That was all I had, since I was now thinking of how Beck had glanced at me here and there when he was catching his breath on the bench. He was far too into Serious Sports Mode to give me the full smile, but the crooked half one had still affected me plenty. Despite my best efforts, a crush was developing.

It’s all right to have crush-like feelings, as long as I don’t act on them.

And what better way to prevent that than to find a new guy to focus on?Luckily, I just so happened to be walking next to another cute hockey player. While on the shorter side, and not over-the-top hot like Beck, Jeff was definitely more accessible as far as I was concerned, as well as a good “beautiful stranger” contender. Plus, he was low risk. I wouldn’t be forced to see him later if things went south.

My mind started going over Beck’s conversation tips. We’d already discussed Jeff’s hobby. Guess that left school. “What are you—”

“Do you—” he started at the same time, then grinned, revealing nice straight teeth. No gaps from a couple being knocked out, so bonus points. His dark hair was shaved nearly down to the scalp, and his eyes were a chocolate brown—pretty much the opposite of Beck.

Who I was absolutely going to stop thinking about.

“Uh, this is me,” I said as we reached my beat up, used-to-be-blue Chevy. Driving it required a lot of praying and swearing, but I was happy to have it, especially on chilly nights like this, where walking meant the possibility of losing toes.

I shivered and zipped up my coat the last few inches—it was too cold to think about not covering up my shape. Even though I knew my hair was down, I did a quick check for pointy objects—call it post-traumatic-eye-stabbing stress disorder. If it’d given me issues, I could only imagine how fast Sebastian would run from me the next time our paths crossed.

Jeff put his hand on my car, right by my arm, and leaned in. “You want to go to the movies? Or just rent one?”

“Whatever,” Isoeloquently said.

He pulled out his phone and asked for my number. After he put it and my address into his contacts, he told me he’d pick me up at seven. He straightened like he was getting ready to leave, and I started thinking he might not count as a stranger tomorrow, so I just went for it.

My enthusiasm got the best of me, turning my attempt at number three into more of a mild headbutt than a kiss. I’d gotten the right side of his mouth instead of the center, too, and all I could do was close my eyes and hope when I opened them, I’d either be alone or wake up to find it’d only been a bad dream.

Twice in one day. I should be quarantined.

“Lyla?”

“Sorry.” I cracked my eyes open. “If you’ve changed your mind about the movies, then I—”

Jeff’s lips slanted over mine. He pressed me into the car and shoved his tongue into my mouth. It was a little more…wetness than I expected. Once I started participating, keeping my lips tighter to slow the tempo, the kiss turned into something better, and might’ve even morphed into some feel-up action if I wasn’t wearing such a puffy coat.

“See you tomorrow.” Jeff gave me one more quick kiss and then he rushed across the parking lot to a black Jetta, and I climbed into my car, grinning like a loon.

I did it! I kissed a guy I didn’t know.I’d even initiated it, but considering how disastrously that part had gone, maybe I shouldn’t be so proud.

As I drove away, though, I couldn’t help thinking that pride-over-checking-off-a-list-item probably shouldn’t be the top emotion I felt after kissing a perfectly cute hockey player.

…

You know what you get when you decide to be bold and kiss a guy you barely know?

Attacked with his tongue, pretty much the first moment you enter his apartment. Jeff had hardly said a word to me, just dived right in. His tongue frequently traveled too far south, too, more chin-licking than kissing. After several minutes, my skin felt…sticky.

“I’m thirsty,” I finally said, pushing myself up from the horizontal position on the couch Jeff had eased me into. The urge to squeegee off my chin and lips was strong, but I didn’t want to offend him.

I totally take back those times I wished Miles would kiss me with a little more passion.Maybe French kissing wasn’t for me. All I knew was I didn’t want to do it anymore—not with Jeff, in any case.

But the movie was only thirty or so minutes in, and I didn’t know how to leave without hurting his feelings. The television screen lit up one half of his face and I found myself focusing on the flickering colors changing on that side as I pondered excuses, none of which sounded good enough to use.

“What do you want to drink?” Jeff asked. “I don’t have any beer, but I could maybe get a case—my roommate’s twenty-one.”

“Some simple H2O would be good.”

The lines in his forehead deepened as he scrunched it up. “Water?”

Beck always teased me for not just saying water. I should probably work on cutting back my nerdy chemistry references as part of my makeover. Jeff must’ve figured it out on his own, because he headed toward the kitchen and opened a cupboard.

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