Page 22 of Between the Boards
The car wouldn’t start?
What car?
Before I can process what he’s saying, Brandon storms over with his friends trailing close behind him.
“Is she your girlfriend?” he demands. “She tried to go on a date with me.”
Colton looks him over and scoffs. “I highly doubt that, buddy.”
Brandon’s face twists with anger. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” I cut in before Colton can, “I’d never go on a date withyou.”
Silence settles around us and I see the minute he realizes I’ve just thrown back the same words he used. His jaw tightens, eye twitching, like he’s barely holding himself back.
“Easy,” Colton says calmly, taking my beer bottle from me and gripping the neck as if he fully intends to crack it over Brandon’s head if push comes to shove . “If I were you, I’d head home, Dingalo. I’ve been in my fair share of bar fights, and I’m not against another one.”
“I most definitely am,” Jazzi says sharply, eyes narrowing. “So don’t.”
Brandon glares at me before storming out with his friends, and the moment he’s gone, I exhale and slowly turn to Colton.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
I nod, still stuck somewhere between the emotions from that kiss and confronting Brandon.
“I guess I kind of blew up your dating scene in town,” he says lightly, swivelling toward the bar.
“I guess so,” I say, turning too. “The whole town’s probably already planning our wedding.”
“Fine by me.” He laughs. “As long as they’re paying for it too.”
He grins at me and I grin back, but my lips feel swollen and tingly and I have to force myself not to reach up and touch them—or him. I don’t look at him for too long, afraid I’ll see it on his face too.
Whatever that kiss was, it doesn’t matter. We’re just friends and that was just a kiss. A big, loud, public middle finger to Brandon.
Nothing more.
EIGHT
COLTON
“No more dating apps,”I say, deleting Kairi’s profile and the app before taking another sip of her beer. “We’re getting you a date the old-fashioned way.”
She lifts a brow. “What, like saying yes to the guy who hits on me at the gas station?”
I choke and nearly slam the bottle back onto the bar. “Has that actually happened?”
“Only when I’m out of town,” she says with a shrug. “And they’re usually homeless.”
“Then absolutely not.” I shake my head. “I was thinking more along the lines of a coffee shop or bookstore meet-cute.”
“Meet-cute?” She stares at me, lips parting slightly. “How doyouknow what a meet-cute is?”
Heat crawls up my neck and I clear my throat, looking away. I’m not about to tell her I’ve spent the last year reading her favourite authors just to understand why she loves them. I’m definitely not admitting that one of them became my favourite author too.
No chance.
“My algorithm dragged me into some BookTok rabbit hole for some strange reason,” I say casually. “Now I know way more book terms than any person ever should.”
