“Fine, what are your questions?” I braced, while Marls, Arna and Flick whispered conspiratorially behind a purse on the opposite side of the table.
Winter gave my thigh a sympathetic tap, although her grin oozed excitement.
“One,” Arna started the second her purse dropped. “Who initiated yourfirst kiss?”
My thoughts strayed to less than an hour ago, the way he grabbed me, the desirous glint in his eyes and remnants of mint chocolate lingering on his tongue.
“Argh, Evs?” Marlee called. The girl's laughter sliced through my memories, dragging me into the now. “Do you and your thoughts need a room,” she grinned, and I shoved her under the table with my foot.
“He did,” I answered listlessly, as if this entire conversation was exhausting when it was taking everything not to show how lightheaded it made me to recall the pressure of his tongue against mine.
“Can’t you give us details,” Felicity whined. “A sympathy freebie for the only one of us not getting any?”
“Nope,” I reached for the jug of water in the centre of the table and poured myself a glass. “Your question was close ended. You’d think as journalists you would know better,” I mocked.
“It makes me far too angry when your math brain is right,” she huffed. “Has he dicked you in the distillery?” She asked sourly and the girls erupted into laughter.
“Your alliteration is on point, Flick,” Arna cackled as I shooshed them all.
“Noooo,” I groaned, although my heart did a dramatic nosedive. It had crossed my mind a few times when he wandered the distillery shirtless. And, for a split second earlier, when I wondered if he was going to take me right there on the floor of his house. An exceptionally delicious idea and much more enjoyable than the minefield I was currently navigating.
“You have one to go,” I said, taking another large mouthful of water to cool my raging thoughts.
“My turn,” Marls said, and my shoulders relaxed. She would have my back.
“My question isn’t about kissing or sex,” she side-eyed the girls as if she was above such lascivious questioning. “I want to know how he makes you feel when you’re with him.”
“Ooooh, good question,” Winter whispered, and I exhaled with a gush.
My hands dropped into my lap as I glared at my soon-to-beexpseudo sister-in-law.
How did he make me feel? I pondered silently.
Cooper made me feel needed. Lightheaded.
As if my soul could leave my body and I would still be whole.
As if I were drowning in feelings I never thought I would feel.
As if being me, exactly as I am, was enough.
And when he kissed me - he made me feel consumed. Utterly and entirely consumed.
“Seen,” I breathed, tracing the shape of my own fingernail until the silence became so loud, I glanced up, instantly regretting doing so.
Marlee stared with an open-mouthed gape. Winter’s hand pressed against my thigh, pushing down with force as if my answer was too much for her to process and Arna and Flick both had bulging eyes and hands over their mouths. Their prolonged stillness made me uneasy, and I bit my bottom lip anxiously. Maybe I should have selected a dysphemism to alleviate what was already too much interest in something I hadn’t had time to think about.
It was never meant to be like this. A lie that felt as though it were gaining wings with every added fabrication. Because there were some very real feelings starting to emerge.
Finally, as if the lid of a shaken bottle was opened, a cascade of delighted squeals erupted, my response clearly the most exciting revelation they’d ever encountered. Stomping of feet under the table was bested only by Arna using her purse to fan Felicity who was dramatically slumped against her seat as if she’d fainted in the overreaction of the century.
Marlee was the only one not to join the commotion, still staring at me quizzically before tilting her head and repeatedly nodding as if she could see straight through me. As if she couldsee how my heart beat out of my chest at the mention of his name.
“Anyway, that’s your three,” I cut through the elation. “Now can we please change the subject?”
“Flick, give us an update on the store.” Marlee said, thankfully saving me from anymore interrogation.
Felicity was a natural storyteller and effortlessly engaging. She spoke with her hands and was sharp-tongued in the best of ways. It was the perfect segue to shift the focus away from me, as she moved into a spiel on the progress of the bookstore she’d been planning to open in a few months. Surprising no one, she inhaled and paused. Because with her, two things were certain; her brilliance was laced with clever wit, and her mind was in constant motion - restless, curious, always into something new. Boredom came easy. Stability, not so much. She hadn’t found the right path yet, trying professions like coats, waiting for one that fit. And after leaving the media firm, Urban Pulse, where she worked with Arna as an editor, she’d thought opening her own quaint bookstore was her happily ever after. Only now, she was months out from accessing the space and her hesitation was weighted. The hyperfixation had fizzled.
