Page 214 of Coach
A kiss? Too much? Are kisses a thing we do now? Did we ever do kisses?
He reached out slightly.
So did I.
We both hesitated.
I stepped forward at the same time he shifted to the side.
And then—
“TONGUE! TONGUE! TONGUE!” The blond shrieked a chant like a frat boy possessed by the ghost of a Vegas showgirl. The others joined in, slamming the table in time with their words. Before I could think, tables around us filled with guys began doing the same.
The whole bar had turned to watch.
Mateo turned bright red. Even his ears glowed like Rudolph’s nose.
I tried to blink, to process, to not crawl under the table.
Mateo looked up at me, his eyes wide and pleading. It was strange. I swear I could hear a tiny voice whisper, “Please don’t bolt, please don’t hate this, please still like me.”
Something tugged at the corners of my mouth.
Not a full smile.
Just . . . the ghost of one.
“Should we do the European hello?” I asked, deadpan.
He groaned. “God, no, Mattyused tongue, and I’m still recovering my dignity.”
I nodded solemnly. “Dangerous tradition.”
“Fatal, if you’re wearing lip balm,” he muttered, then paused.
“Is your lip balm laced with cyanide?” I asked.
He blinked. Then blinked again.
“Did you just make a joke?” he asked.
I shrugged.
We stood there for another beat, then both gave up and went in for a one-armed “I’m a guy, but I’m not gay” hug that somehow felt awkward and weirdly good.
When I pulled back, the warmth of him lingered under my skin.
“Hi,” he said, a little breathlessly.
“Hi.”
“They’re so freakin’ adorable,” I heard the blond whisper. “Andsodoomed.”
Chapter 19
Mateo
When I peeled myself off of Shane—our awkward side-hug complete and my dignity mostly intact—I realized we were standing in front of the table like contestants onThe Bachelor: Gay Chaos Edition, facing the tribunal of judgment I called my friends.
