Page 90 of Hot Mess Express
Bridger snorts into his coffee, causing it to splash at his face.
“No, thank you, ma’am,” I say flatly, wincing. She leaves us be to enjoy our breakfast. I kick Bridger under the table, which only results in making him laugh harder.
He sure ain’t laughing when he digs into his delicious, fluffy French toast. The guy barely puts on any syrup, which is a damned crime, and he shows next to nothing on his stoic faceas he chews, but I know he’s having three orgasms in his mouth right now, savoring each and every bite. I feel a pinch of pride, watching him, applauding myself for bringing him to this secret breakfast spot. I cut off a huge bite of pancake and shovel it in, satisfied.
He gazes at me across the table. “So you want a repeat?”
I freeze mid-bite. “Huh?” I mumble through my mouthful.
“Last night. You said you’d want to … do it again?” He pauses. “With me?”
I finish chewing. It takes a minute, giving me time to think. “Well … I mean … yeah.”
“Yeah?”
“I mean …” I use the edge of my fork to cut off another bite, then stop and set it down for some reason. “I … enjoyed last night. A lot. Who the hell wouldn’t? And yeah, I meant what I said. I’d … I’d totally go through another week of hell just to enjoy a night like last night all over again.” I look down at my pancakes with a smile. “Though … maybe it’d be better without the week of hell.”
“And you liked spending it with me?”
I squint at him questioningly. “What’s this emphasis onyouall about? What’re you gettin’ at? Are you askin’ …?” My voice lowers. “Are you askin’ if it could’ve been … justanyoneI took back to my room last night?”
“That’s precisely what I’m asking.”
I sit back in my seat, staring at him across the table. He hasn’t taken another bite. This answer is really important to him.
I suddenly realize it’s really important for me to give it, too. “No,” I state harder than I mean to. “It couldn’t have been just anyone. Obviously. You crazy? It was you who … who made the night what it was. Who made me feel the way I did. Only you.”
I watch Bridger’s jaw tighten from my answer.
Then his lips curl up, his eyes filling with a superior glint of confidence I’ve gotten way too used to seeing all week. Except this time, it bothers me a lot less. In fact, it doesn’t bother me at all. It brings me joy, to see him flush with confidence at my answer.
“See?” I blurt, picking my fork back up. “I can say nice shit. I’m a nice guy. Just needed to give me time to prove it, you jerk.”
He chuckles under his breath and shakes his head as he goes for another bite, resuming his tasty breakfast.
Then it occurs to me to ask the same thing. “What about me?” I lean forward, fork in hand. “Could I have been just anyone? How many other questioning virgin guys have you slept with?”
“I don’t sleep with virgins.” I frown at him, confused. He eyes me. “It’s a rule I always followed. I just never felt like I deserved to take anyone’s virginity. Didn’t want to ever be the one to shoulder such a responsibility.”
“Until … me?”
“Until you,” he confesses with a sigh. “You’re the first. Only.”
I blink, stunned. “But … why me?”
He chews his next bite with thought. After a smile to himself, he says, “I’ll tell you once I figure that part out,” and winks at me.
I stare back at him.What the fuck does that mean?
The front doors swing open, the bell rings, and in come Pete and Juni. They find us at once and make a beeline for our table. “I am fuckingfamished!” exclaims Pete with way too much energy, dropping into the seat next to Bridger, shoving him aside. Juni sits next to me, uncharacteristically plain with no makeup, wearing an oversized t-shirt and shorts. “Boy, oh, boy, am I hungry,” she says as well, then looks at each of us. “Did we interrupt something?”
Bridger and I share a look across the table. He gently taps my foot underneath and smiles at me. I smile blankly back, lostin so many damned thoughts all of a sudden, I don’t know if I’ll be able to swim my way out of them.
Juni picks a funny sweater off a rack with eggplants all over it. Pete laughs his ass off as he holds it up against himself. She loses it next, cackling until there’s tears in her eyes. The two go through rack after rack, each item they hold against each other cracking them up more than the last. On the other side of the store, Bridger and I watch them. “I’ve never seen her laugh so much,” I mutter to Bridger, who was in the middle of checking out a simple button-down shirt on clearance. “The hell is up with them?”
It’s like this at every store we go to. Juni has this glassy look of imminent laughter in her eyes, always, which turn giggly and silly every time she gazes at Pete. I don’t know Pete all that well, but despite their bouts of laughter and stupidity, he suddenly becomes a prince whenever we cross the street, checking both ways before guiding her with his arm, all chivalrous and shit.
It’s not just him. Later, the four of us walk through a park, and as a kid skateboards by, Bridger puts his arm around me and pulls me to his side, even though I was well out of the way of the fast skateboarder. He even eyes him, halfway to shouting at the kid to slow down. “I’m not some fragile piece a’ glass,” I grunt under my breath, but Bridger hears me and, still holding me tight against his side, replies, “You’re right. You’re my fragile piece ofass.”
