Page 9 of Fools in Love

“I guess I’ll let you two get back to whatever you were doing before I came over and added some necessary spice to the mix,” Grandma Darcy said.

Before I could even respond, her lips were on mine, moving back and forth like she was trying to wipe off all of her lipstick onto my mouth. I swore that if her tongue made an appearance, I’d scream like a little girl, high-pitched and everything.

I stood there, unmoving, my eyes wide open and firmly locked on to April’s face, which was a mixture of shock and horror. Before I could give her a look that screamed for her to do something, Darcy stopped assaulting me and promptly left.

April moved in immediately, closing the space between us as her eyes widened. She stared at my jaw, her hand lifting to run across it before she instantly dropped it back to her side. “Your face is a very pretty shade of rose.”

“There’s lipstick everywhere, isn’t there?” I managed to ask through my complete embarrassment. “Help me.”

I refused to look away from her hazel irises to see if anyone else in the room had witnessed my humiliation firsthand. I wouldn’t be able to handle it, to be honest, so I kept staring. Her eyes became my lifeline, the only thing I saw in the room. She had flecks of green and yellow in one eye only, and I wondered for a minute if she knew. I thought about telling her.

“It’s all over your face. Literally.” She reached for my arm and started pulling at my body, trying to get me to move. “Come on. Let’s find a restroom.”

My legs started moving of their own accord, clearly willing to follow this woman anywhere she asked. Ten minutes ago, I would have complained, fired back some sort of sarcastic comment, but I needed her help now. We weaved through people, not stopping for anything or anyone as I focused on my steps.

Next thing I knew, we were stopped in front of a large, nondescript wooden door. April reached for the handle and pulled it open before peeking inside.

“It’s empty,” she said as she held it open for me.

I walked through it, realizing that it was a private restroom instead of one with multiple stalls, and closed and locked the door behind me before looking in the mirror.

What in the hell?

My face looked like I’d made out with a crayon. A really fucking bright crayon.

Reaching for a paper towel, I doused it with water and scrubbed at my face in vain. The bright color still remained in my facial hair and on my skin. Was I going to look like this forever?

Opening the door slowly, I peered outside to where April was standing guard. She saw me instantly and started shaking her head.

“Let me help,” she demanded before pushing her way inside. “Figures that bitch would wear long-lasting lipstick,” she said under her breath.

I had no idea what the hell she was talking about, but I was thankful that she—hopefully—knew how to get it off my face.

“Am I stuck like this?” I asked as she reached into her clutch and pulled out a tiny spray bottle.

Without saying a word, she soaked a paper towel and stepped toward me, her body so close to mine that my dick was aware of her nearness.

“I’m going to touch you now,” she warned, her voice a little heady.

I inhaled as my dick grew harder. She was truly beautiful, and I’d been an asshole to pretend like she wasn’t.

I watched as her hand moved toward my jaw, and she started to rub at my skin gently. My eyes closed as a foreign sensation coursed through my veins. It wasn’t unpleasant, but I couldn’t quite place it.

“Am I hurting you?” she asked, misreading my body language completely.

“Not at all,” I said as I covered her hand with my own, suddenly desperate to touch her. It was like I was seeing her for the first time.

Her eyes shot straight to mine with the contact, pinning me there. “Robbie.” My name was an exhale, a request, a plea.

“April,” I breathed out in equal measure.

“It’s coming off,” she said, and I hoped she meant her dress, but I wanted to smack myself when I realized she was talking about the lipstick.

She held up a pink paper towel, and when I glanced in the mirror, I saw that whatever was in her little bottle had done the trick.

“Thank you,” I said, not moving my hand from hers.

When she tried to pull it away, I refused to let it go, and she kept it there.

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