Page 68 of Three Pucking Words
Until today.
“Did someone die?” Mila asks, setting down a giant cinnamon roll between us with two forks. “You look like someone died. Is it anyone I know?” She gasps, almost dropping her coffee cup as she sits down. “Please tell me it isn’t Mrs. Daphne. I love her.”
Mrs. Daphne owns a small bookstore café called Chapters near the old condo I grew up in. I spent a lot of time there when I didn’t want to be alone at home. She never shooed me away or scolded me for reading the books without paying for them. She’d even give me recommendations that she thought I’d like and leave food for me to make sure I ate something. “Last I heard, she’s alive and well. Our discounts are still safe.”
Mila lets out a relieved breath. “Good. I went to Barnes and Noble the other day and they wantedthirty dollarsfor a special edition of my favorite Ali Hazelwood book. You know, the one with pretty pink sprayed edges.”
I give her a skeptical look. “You’d pay at least twenty-five dollars for that at Mrs. Daphne’s store, though.”
“That’s still five dollars offandshe gives me a free cookie,” my best friend counters indignantly. She sets her steaming drink down. “I also like to consider it supporting a small business.”
Any book shopping I do comes from Chapters for the same reason. “Nobody died,” I tell her, poking the bun with my fork. “But it’s bad.”
Her frown returns. “On a scale fromCamp Rock 2: The Final Jamto your mom getting arrested for a DWI outside school pickup, how bad are we talking?”
That’s such a random and traumatizing range.
“That movie wasn’t horrible” is my response. “Shane and Mitchie finally kissed.”
Mila groans. “You’ve always been a sucker for romance. Which is ironic considering your newly single and not mingling. Just answer the question.”
“I guess in the middle?” I’m not even sure where my current problem lies. Definitely not on the mortifying side next to watching my mother get handcuffed and put into the back of a police car in front of all my classmates. Technically, she never actually got booked. She’d flirted her way out of it until one of our neighbors could pick her up. To my knowledge, my father never found out. I’d like to think if he did, he probably wouldn’t have allowed me to stay with her anymore.
“So…?” Mila looks confused.
I frown deeply. “I slept with Bodhi.”
Her eyes widen so large that if it were anatomically possible, they’d fall out. “Youfuckedhim? I take back the no mingling comment.”
That earns her a glare from the older couple sitting at the nearest table. I blush and duck my head, avoiding their unimpressed gazes.
“No,” I whisper hiss. “I mean Isleptwith him. Like, in the same bed.Besidehim.”
She blinks slowly, gaping at me.
I didn’t mean to fall asleep during the movie, but I was tired, and the bed was comfortable. One second I’m watching Bradley Cooper and Lady Gaga serenade one another on stage, and the next I’m waking up half pressed against a very muscular human being who’d also fallen asleep.
I’d beenholdinghis pinky. My fingers were wrapped around his digit as if I was a child clinging to their parent in a packed grocery store. And Iliked it. A lot.
The second I realized I was touching him I moved my hand away and studied how peacefully he slept in both awe and horror. Because I snore. And Max used to complain about how restless I was, or how hot I ran. I’d always been a little self-conscious of sharing a bed with him because of it.
“We were watching a movie,” I explain when the confusion doesn’t go away on Mila’s face. “I must have dozed off first. And I felt weird waking him up and telling him to go back to his room, so I didn’t.”
His alarm went off twenty minutes after I’d woken up, and he looked almost as confused as I was. He’d had just enough time to go back to his room before anyone saw him leave mine, pack his things, and meet everyone out front. I’d pretended to sleep on the return flight home, so we didn’t have to talk.
Now I’m here, two days later.
“So there was no sex,” Mila presses, as if the concept is foreign to her. Maybe it is. She lost her virginity at fourteen, dated boys briefly throughout high school, and then decided she liked girls way more. In college, she’d had a string of flings that were more casual than anything. Her current relationship is the most serious one she’s had.
I peek at the older couple beside us to make sure they’re not eavesdropping or ready to complain to the waitstaff about us. “No. We didn’t do anything. Only slept. And maybe cuddled. If pinky holding counts as cuddling.”
She blinks slowly. “I don’t think so.”
I hated admitting I slept better than I have in a long time. It was an adjustment to sleep by myself after leaving Max. I’d gotten so used to having someone there that I spent a lot of nights battling insomnia when I was all alone. Puck helped, a little. But there was always an ache left where a body used to lay beside me. I told myself that was the only reason I’d drifted off to sleep so quickly when Bodhi was in bed with me.
Because it was familiar. Desirable.
Even if I drooled a little on the pillow or snored like I was auditioning forTexas Chainsaw Massacre.
