“She definitely isn’t.”
“Well,Ithink she is. I’d hang out with her in a heartbeat,” I add wistfully.
He raises an eyebrow. “So, why don’t you?”
“What?”
“I can give you her number. Just text her and see if she wants to grab coffee or whatever.”
I shift uncertainly. “You think she’d want to?”
“I don’t know, probably.” He shrugs. “Can’t hurt to ask, can it?”
“I guess not.” I take my phone out. “Hit me.”
I type her number in as John dictates it and then open a new text. “?‘Hey, Kiara—’?”
“You’re doing it now?” John asks, amused.
“Before I lose my nerve,” I say. “Now hush. ‘Hey, Kiara,’?” I read aloud as I type, “?‘this is Emily—we met the other night.’?”
“She knows who you are.”
“?‘I hope it’s okay John gave me your number—’?”
“Why would she care?”
“?‘—but I wanted to text and see if you maybe wanted to grab coffee sometime this week, or whenever works. No pressure if you’re busy! And sorry if this is super random!’?”
“Good lord.”
“It’s polite!” I argue, as I click send.
“It’s deranged. You know you don’t have to apologize for politely asking someone to coffee, right?”
“I know I don’thaveto. But she probably has tons of cool friends to hang out with. Plus, I don’t want her to feel, like, obligated to hang out with me just because you and I are—” I clear my throat hastily. “You know, just because we went out once.”
He snorts. “She won’t feel like that. And she doesn’t have that many friends. Why do you assume everyone’s life is so much cooler than yours?”
“Because it probably is.”
“Your life is cool. Not your barrel obsession, I mean. That’s still super lame. But Trey and Rose are pretty cool, and I can see why you like that Jim guy.”
“He’s great, isn’t he?”
“Mm.” John nods. “You shouldn’t stress so much about stuff.”
My lips twist into a reluctant smile. “Maybe you’re right.”
“Oh, I’m definitely right.”
“Yeah, yeah.” We grin at each other for a few seconds, then I riseon my toes to kiss him goodbye. It’s nothing more than a quick brush of my lips against his, but the warm scrape of stubble does shivery things to my insides. His hands settle on my lower back and his thumbs slide under the hem of my shirt, and before long we’re full-on making out against the front door of his car. He pulls me hard against him, and I slide my hands under his shirt, digging my fingers into the warm, strong muscles of his back.
I never really saw the appeal of having sex in public places—do people not realize how many germs there are everywhere?—but a thought is stirring in the back of my mind. I break apart from John and reach behind me for the door handle. “Ever done it in your race car?” I ask with a grin.
Then I pull open the door and go still.
Um...
