I glanced over my shoulder and spotted Christiane lingering near the bubble waffle cone vendor. She caught my eye, gave an enthusiastic wave. “Allow me to apologize right now.”
“For what?”
I’d suffer for this. So much more than I’d imagined. But I couldn’t care about that suffering when all this sweetness was right here, waiting for me. I tipped her chin up, slipped my fingers into her hair. Dropped my gaze to her parted lips. “This.”
I brushed my lips against hers, fast enough for our surroundings yet exactly long enough to ruin my whole life.
I didn’t bother glancing back at Christiane again.
“Don’t apologize,” Shay said, a laugh in her words. “I can be your human shield any time you need it. I’m down for that every day of the week. You should’ve told me that was why you were in such a hurry to fake-marry me. You had me thinking you were some kind of Scrooge McDuck, wanting to seize all the land on the rural side of the cove. You could’ve explained yourself better, my friend.” She peered up at me, scowling. “Please tell me we’re good, we’re friends. I’m not sure what I did wrong, Noah, or how I gave you the impression that I—”
I kissed her again.
It wasn’t a smart choice, all things considered, but that saved me from explaining my version of our history. Not that she would understand it. I had my reality and she had hers, and I had to accept that those two would never match up.
This kiss was longer and less chaste than the first. I heard Gennie say, “That’s disgusting,” and someone else say, “Get a load of those two,” and I didn’t care because Shay grabbed a handful of my shirt and made a soft noise in the back of her throat that ended me.
It didn’t matter what happened next. If she disappeared from my life tomorrow. If she went back to Boston and gave up Twin Tulip. Even if she stayed though I could never touch her again.
None of it would matter because she’d kissed me back—and she’d loved every second of it.
When I pulled away, I said, “I am sorry.”
Shay shook her head. “Don’t be. You can use me any time you need to fend off the thirsty women of Friendship. There must be dozens of them. I’ll break their hearts for you. Destroy their dreams.”
“You sound…excited.”
She laughed. I felt her warm breath on my neck, then her lips grazing me there. I had to work at preventing my eyes from rolling back in my head.
“When does this game start?” Gennie asked. Her lips were bright pink when she turned to face us. She looked us over as if she found Shay locked in my arms every day. I really,reallyneeded this to not fuck things up for her. “Is it soon? Or can I get popcorn?”
“Did you get any change from that lemonade?”
She shrugged but slipped her hand into her pocket. Real smooth.
“You have enough for popcorn,” I said. “Can you order it yourself or do you want us to go with you?”
Us.
Oh,god. I’d already incorporated this performance into anus. There were so many things wrong with me.
“You can watch me go there,” she said, skipping off toward the student council’s popcorn stand.
I brushed my lips over Shay’s temple once more. Not because Christiane was watching or because I gave a shit about anyone’s opinion. I did it because I’d wanted to do this since long before I knew what it was to kiss a woman on the forehead instead of the mouth.
“You don’t have to stay,” I said to her.
“Oh, but I do.” She flattened her hand to my chest. “Don’t forget. I’ve met your gal. I know her voracity. If you think she’s not coming up to bat the second I leave, you’re underestimating her.” She laughed, adding, “And I promised Jaime I’d come out and do this small-town life thing, even if I hated it.”
Who the fuck is Jaime?
“Jaime? What about me? Didn’t I say the exact same thing?” I asked.
She put some time into smoothing my shirt. Like appearances really mattered on a hot August night when everyone over the age of fifteen was preoccupied with the liquor hiding in their water bottles and acting as though the bugs weren’t eating us alive.
And who the fuck is Jaime? Please don’t let it be the one from the situationship.
“Jaime’s my best friend,” she said, those precious little fingers still running over my shoulders and chest, tying concrete weights to every spot she touched before pushing me off a pier. “We’ve taught together for years. We talk just about every day. She’s the mom of our group.”
