Page 40 of The Pucker and the Princess
Be at my place in 10
Make it 20. Gotta get the snacks together!
Grinning like a fool, I make my way inside, no longer in a hurry. When I get in the elevator, my finger hovers over the button for her floor for just a second, but I rein in the impulse and hit the button for my floor instead.
What would she do if I showed up when we agreed she’d come to my place? Plus, I’ve got my bag with me, banging against my leg. What would I do at her place anyway?
Wrap her in my arms, bury my face in her hair and breathe in her scent, then tip her head back and?—
I cut that thought off with a harsh jerk of my head. Marissa’s my friend.Justmy friend. I’m not supposed to be thinking about kissing her.
And why this sudden desire to do that? Is it just because Bouchard’s interest makes me jealous? Worried she’ll start dating him and spend less time with me?
What kind of an asshole does that make me?
Is it really all that sudden, though?
Fucking hell, that thought isn’t any more helpful than the others.
The elevator door slides open, and I stride to my front door, grateful for the minor distraction of movement and fitting my key into the lock and unpacking—which mainly consists of dumping dirty clothes in the laundry room and setting my toiletries case on my counter. I’ll get the rest out tonight when I’m getting ready for bed.
Antsy—because I know Marissa’s going to be here soon—I stand in my living room and turn on the TV, scrolling through the movie offerings on the various streaming services I use. What will Marissa be in the mood for? Sure, she told me to pick, but I don’t want to pick something she’ll hate.
We could go with something classic and sports related likeMiracle. Would she have seen that before? It’s a great film with everything I need to be happy—it’s inspirational, and it’s about hockey. Who could ask for more than that?
I click into it and pull up the trailer. I’ll let her watch that and make the final call. Movie chosen, as much as I can without her at least, I head to the kitchen and fuss with glasses and plates. She said she’s bringing snacks but didn’t say what kind. Every time she’s brought food before, it’s been something different, so I don’t know what to expect.
Soon—but not soon enough for my liking—there’s a knock at the door, and I open it to find a grinning Marissa holding a large bowl of popcorn, a six pack of bottled beer dangling from her hand, and a Tupperware container tucked under her arm.
“Hey!” she says, stepping inside as I move out of the way and hold the door for her. Adding, “Oh! Thank you,” as I reach for the popcorn and beer. “You said movie, so I figured popcorn was a must. And I made cookies the other day, so I brought some of those as well.”
My eyebrows raise. “Cookies? What kind?”
“Chocolate chip, of course,” she says like it should be the most obvious answer in the world. “Why would anyone make anything different?”
That makes me laugh. “I mean, sometimes people like other cookies.”
She makes a derisive sound, setting the Tupperware on the coffee table and opening it. “Sometimes people are psychopaths.” She picks up a cookie. “That doesn’t mean we have to pretend they’re sane.” And on that definitive declaration, she takes a bite, her tongue peeking out to collect a couple of stray crumbs, her eyes closing in pleasure, and the desire from earlier that I’d successfully ignored slams into me so hard I almost choke on it.
Tearing my eyes away from her, I focus on setting the beer and popcorn on the table next to the container of cookies. When I straighten, she’s opened her eyes again and is facing the TV.
“What’s this?” she asks.
“Oh, right. Have you seenMiracle? I was thinking we could watch that. I’ve got the trailer queued up if you want to see what it’s about first.”
“Ohhh, isn’t that the one about the US hockey team at the Olympics?”
“Yeah.” Picking up the remote, I hit play on the trailer. “It’s about the 1980 Winter Olympics. It was the first time the US won gold for hockey in twenty years.”
“Okay. I’m sold,” she says before the trailer’s even really started.
Chuckling, I point at the TV. “You don’t want to watch the trailer?”
“Nah. I never saw this, and I like sports movies. Plus, it’s hockey, which is a new interest of mine.” She flashes me a grin before grabbing a beer out of the six pack and settling on the couch. “Can you grab me the bottle opener?”
“Sure thing.” I head to the kitchen and grab the green magnetic bottle opener bearing the Emeralds logo off my fridge. Marissa presented it to me as a reverse housewarming gift the third or fourth time she came over because I was just opening our bottles on the kitchen counter. She was horrified, worried I’d mess up the counters, so she brought the bottle opener the next time. “I got it at the merch shop at the game,” she told me when she gave it to me the day she brought it over.
Every time I look at the stupid thing, I get a dopey smile on my face, and this time is no different. Maybe it’s ridiculous to be so touched by such a tiny, silly thing, but I can’t think of the last time that a woman who wasn’t related to me surprised me with a thoughtful gift, however small. And it was just because. Noholiday, no occasion, no celebration of achievement. Just that she saw it, thought of me, and then bought it and gave it to me.
