Page 35 of The Pucking Kiss

He’d done a complete 180 in terms of his mood. How had he gotten from discussing the phone call to wanting to have sex in less than two minutes?

And that’s when I realized Bryan used sex as a distraction from the hard stuff in life he didn’t want to deal with.

“Bryan,” my voice was softer now, “I know what you’re trying to do here.”

“Hookup with my fake girlfriend?” he laughed, “Yeah, it’s not exactly hard to understand, is it?”

I shook my head. “No, I know you’re just trying to avoid talking about your dad. I know this is hard for you, but you’re going to see him in literally a few hours from now. Don’t you think we should discuss it a bit beforehand?”

He exhaled a deep sigh and was quiet for a moment. “There you go, playing my therapist again…”

“Maybe you need that more than a fake girlfriend right now,” I rested my hand on his shoulder this time, “What did he say when you told him that you were going to come and visit him?”

“He said that he’ll have the guest bedroom cleaned out for me.”

“That’s it?” shock colored my voice.

I didn’t know much about his dad, to begin with, but surely having his estranged son visit warranted a better reaction than something as bland as he had given him.

“Yep,” Bryan’s tone was tinged with a hint of hurt now. “He’s not much of an emotions kind of guy.”

“Now I know that probably get that from it,” I chuckled, trying to make light of the situation. “But he probably meant well by it. I’m sure he’s excited to have you visit.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

I could see that Bryan was shutting down again. The drumming of his fingers against the steering wheel had increased, and he kept biting down on his bottom lip.

“Does he have children?”

“Just me.”

“Does he want more?”

Bryan finally snapped. He glared back at me with an annoyed expression. “You know, I thought you coming here with me meant that you’re going to be supportive. But instead, you’re out here on some investigative journalist bullshit. Newsflash, Romai. I don’t know the answers to half your questions because I barely know my father!”

I sunk back into my seat, startled by his sudden outburst. He seemed to have recognized his mistake immediately as regret began to dawn on his face.

“I’m sorry…” he muttered. “You didn’t deserve that. It’s just that I’ve been on edge all morning and just want to get this stupid thing over with.”

“No, it’s okay,” I said, “I shouldn’t have pushed you. Tell you what, let’s not talk about it anymore. I guess we’ll deal with it as it comes.”

He seemed relieved by my answer. Perhaps that’s what he had been wanting to hear all along. Finally, the smile returned to his face.

“So, how about that quickie in the backseat?”

“Bryan, behave,” I rolled my eyes. “We’re not having sex in your car.”

“It’d be more fun than driving on a highway for six hours straight…”

“You know what. I know what we should do,” I reached out to connect my phone to his car’s sound system and began scrolling through my playlists.

“Oh, you're going to DJ now?” he laughed, and I hushed him.

“Stop. You're gonna like this. What do you think about having a car sing along?”

“Not too bad. I can belt out a pretty good falsetto when the mood is right.”

“Oh, then you've crossed paths with the right person.”

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