Page 19 of The 7 Rules of Moving On
“Nope. Super sensitive gag reflex.”
“I think I’ve got some cough syrup. As long as it’s okay with you if I go and get it.”
She pulled her hair up into a ponytail, fanning her neck. “Is it hot out here or something?”
His attention caught and reeled in by the curve of her exposed neck, he said, “Extremely.”
She dropped her hair, composing herself. “I would appreciate it very much if you brought me some cough syrup.”
Reluctantly turning away from her, he walked into his bathroom without bothering to put his shirt back on and pulled a bottle of cough syrup out of his medicine cabinet.
“Here you go.” He handed her the bottle. “Hope she feels better soon.”
“Yeah, me too,” Kissie said, her fingers brushing lightly over his when she took the bottle. “Thanks.”
“Anytime, Kissie.”
When she walked away from him back down the hall, he could have sworn he heard her whisper, “So many muscles.”
* * *
“How’s Dawn?”Trig asked, pouring Kissie a coke after serving her a grilled cheese sandwich for lunch. “She’s not worse, is she?”
Her shrug was glum. “She’s the same. Coughing, sore throat, gross.”
“Gotcha.” He was worried because she looked like someone kicked a puppy. “Areyoufeeling okay?”
Dropping her head onto her arms, she grumbled, “No. I’ve lost my wingwoman.”
“Your what?”
“My wingwoman,” she repeated, raising her head. “This was supposed to be my getting over my ex before I mov—” she cut herself off. “Before I have to get back to my real life weekend. And I can’t do that without a wingwoman.”
“Because of the rules?” he asked. “The seven rules?”
Her eyes found his, her expression mystified. “You remember those?”
He scratched his head. “I mean…”
“How do you remember those?”
“Oh my god,” he said, looking up briefly at the ceiling. “This is so embarrassing.” Turning around, he opened the drawer beneath the rum, pulling out the laminated card she’d given him that he kept right there so he could see it every time he needed a muddler.
“You kept that?”
He could feel himself blushing. “It’s not like I framed it or anything.” Even though he’d considered it. “I’d put it in the drawer last time you were here, and it kinda stayed there.” He slid the card across the bar to her. “Here, you can have it back if you want.”
Picking up the card that he secretly hoped she wouldn’t take back, she said, “No. I think it was happy in your drawer.”
He exhaled.
She pointed the card at him. “Here’s the thing though, without a wingwoman the rules don’t work. I can’t do any of it. No flirting. No kissing. No hooking up at all. It’s too dangerous. A total no-go.”
“What’s a no-go?” Ryan asked, striding into the bar, exchanging a plate covered in aluminum foil for the beer Trig passed him.
“Me getting laid,” Kissie explained, making Ryan cough on his first sip of beer.
“Dawn is sick,” Trig explained.
