Page 25 of Some Sort of Happy (Happy Crazy Love 1)
“Uh, no. No fucking way.” I took another drink and shook my head as I set the bottle down. “There’s no one there I’d want to see.”
“Oh.” Her face fell, which she tried to hide by taking a long sip of wine. Several long sips.
“Let me rephrase that,” I said, sorry I’d hurt her feelings. “I’m looking at the only person I’d want to see.”
Her eyes lit up, her cheeks blooming pink. “Thank you.”
“But there’s no one there who’d care about seeing me.”
“That’s not true,” she said, setting down her empty glass. “I’d care.”
“Thanks, but I’d rather fucking shoot myself than go to that thing.”
She sighed. “That’s kind of how I feel about it now too. I know everyone there will just be talking shit about me, being pretend-nice to my face.”
“Then don’t go.”
“I have to.”
“Why?”
“Because if I don’t, everyone will talk shit about me.”
My forehead wrinkled. “Wait, you just said they’d talk shit about you if you did go.”
“Yeah, but it would be worse shit talk if I wasn’t there,” she said with some sort of baffling female logic. “So I have to go, and you should go too. In fact, we should go together.”
I almost choked. “What?”
“We should go together.” She braced her elbows on the table and leaned toward me, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Then we could give them something new to talk about.”
I leaned in too. I couldn’t resist. “Yeah? Like what?”
“Like this.”
And without any warning whatsoever, she kissed me. Put those soft pink rose petal lips right over mine and left them there for a second, during which I was too stunned to move. My cock jumped, and I pulled away.
Then she sat back, her expression horrified. “Oh God. I’m so sorry.”
Holy shit. What did I just do?
I kissed him. I kissed him.
I kissed Sebastian Pryce.
I tried to read his expression, but I couldn’t. Best I could tell, it was somewhere between Jesus Christ, why the hell did she do that? and Goddamn, let’s flip this table out of the way and go at it.
An eternity passed. Several species of birds went extinct. Continents drifted.
“Say something¸” I begged. “I feel horrible right now. I shouldn’t have done that. Can I blame the wine?” Yes. That was it. Pin the kiss on the Pinot.
But had it been the wine? Maybe it was something else. I was no math expert, but this was an intoxicating equation: Hot Guy with Mysterious Past + Way With Pretty Words x Chivalry at Beach / His Aloofness at Coffee Shop (Immunity to My Face & Flirty Efforts) + Innuendo at Hardware Store x Honest Confession about OCD Struggles —> Curiosity + Arousal (Belly Flutters + Pulse Quickening)=ATTACKISS.
Right?
Or was I overthinking it? Maybe the plain, crazy truth was just that I was really attracted to Sebastian Pryce. But he was probably one of those quiet, tortured geniuses that didn’t go for girls like me. He went t
o law school, for heaven’s sake! He wrote poetry!
