Page 15 of One Little Kiss
Yes.
No.
I swallow hard. “No. Of course not. There’s rules, Noelle. And you can’t have a head start just because I told you about it first.”
Her lower lip juts out and she backs up a step, but I still can’t quite breathe properly. I’m freakin’ winded, and all because my best friend threatened to kiss me.
I thrust a hand through my hair.
Get a grip, dude!
She’s already opening the passenger side door when I recover.
I climb in and head toward my home on autopilot.
Noelle tries to keep the amount of time she spends with her folks to a minimum, and since mine are rarely there and I’m always up for company, it’s kinda just understood that if I don’t have practice, we’re heading to my house.
Together.
My hands shift on the steering wheel as that annoying sensation creeps over me again. I am way too aware of her scent, her warmth, her every shift and fidget as she crosses her legs in the passenger seat.
I turn on the radio too quickly, trying to cut this tension that is new and kinda awful and very likely one-sided judging by the way Noelle’s nonchalantly scrolling through messages on her phone.
“Ugh,” she mutters. “Mara and Celia are already talking about dress shopping for the dance.”
“We haven’t won yet,” I chuckle. “But I appreciate their optimism.”
“You know you guys are gonna win,” she says. “You’re, like, undefeated, right?”
I nod. But I don’t feel even an iota of pride. Probably because I’m not one of the star players. I always get a shot on the field, but football’s just something I do and have always done because my friends were doing it. It’s not my thing like it is for our quarterback, Ryan, or like basketball is for Heath.
“Don’t get me wrong, I want you and your team to win, but if you don’t…” She shoots me a sidelong look. “I’m not gonna complain.”
I laugh at that. Noelle might grouse about the victory dance—understandably. Homecoming was awkward for the few of us single folks who had to watch the others be all coupley for theentire night. But there’s no doubt in my mind that she’ll be front and center cheering us on at playoffs because she’s a supportive friend like that. She never misses a game.
She turns her attention to her phone, her fingers flying as she responds to what looks to be a group text. She doesn’t glance over at all as she asks, “We on for a rematch?”
I tense for half a second before I shake it off.
But the rematch she’s talking about?
That means me and her. On my bed.
Playing games and talking trash? Yes.
But after that insane reaction I had to her merely mentioning a kiss?
I find myself scrambling for an excuse to avoid my bedroom. And that’s when one of our old favorite haunts comes into view.
“Actually, it’s kinda nice out.” I turn to her and waggle my brows, donning my most ridiculous sexy voice as I murmur, “Wanna play?”
She spots the old playground beside the middle school and her head falls back with a laugh. The sound warms me in the very best of ways. My hands readjust on the wheel as I shift in my seat.
Dang. When did I get all warm and fuzzy because of Noelle’s laugh?
Clearly my head’s still addled by that near kiss.
Still, as she turns to me and teases me about still liking the playground where we used to play as kids, I can’t help but notice that the sound of her easy laughter settles something inside me that’s been feeling off-center for days now, ever since I’d accidentally made things weird about the scavenger hunt.
