possessively at the small of his back, bunching
the fabric there as I claimed him with my mouth. He nibbled at my
lower lip and I moaned against him, parting my lips invitingly until
he thrust his tongue inside, tasting me, exploring me, making me
squirm against him in desire.
And then—
And then he pulled back and gave me a
gentle peck on the lips, a wistful smile on his face before he walked
away, leaving me reeling and more confused than ever.
But also a little bit…hopeful?
Until I realized: what the hell had I
just done?
And what was I going to tell Paige?
SIX
I fussed with the edge of my napkin and
tried not to feel guilty. It was tricky. I had a lot of things to
feel guilty about. Number one on that list was either making out with
Hunter after I’d sworn that I wouldn’t get in the way of
his and Paige’s budding relationship, or else it was all the
things I could vaguely remember telling Chuck last night—I just
hoped I hadn’t told him any more things that I now forgot. And
I hoped he’d been as drunk as me. With any luck, he wouldn’t
remember a thing.
Unfortunately, Paige was unlikely to
ever get drunk enough to forget that she had been dating Hunter Knox,
so I’d decided that my first stop on the damage control tour
was going to be brunch at our favorite local diner, where I’d
break the news to her as gently as I could, and hope she could find
it in her heart to forgive me.
A waiter nearly dropped my coffee cup
onto the saucer and I winced, pain lancing through my head.
It was super not helping my damage
control tour planning that I was hungover as hell. Every time I tried
to think of how I’d start the conversation, something—usually
mind-boggling pain—would distract me.
“Ally!”
I looked up, trying to grin at Paige in
an ‘I don’t feel like a dentist’s drill is going
through my skull’ sort of way.
“Hey, Paige.”
She looked great, rested and content
and glowing with new love in a pair of comfy jeans and a soft pink
cardigan. Guilt turned over in my stomach, more painful than the
hangover.
What I was about to say would probably
wipe that happy smile right off her face.
Before I could even get started,
though, the waiter swooped over, probably drawn by the glow of
Paige’s contentment. “And what can I get you two ladies?”
“Stack of pancakes with
strawberry syrup and whipped cream, a side of bacon extra well done,
and a mint chocolate chip milkshake, please,” Paige said with a
chipper grin, which only increased my trepidation. Paige only risked
our mother’s wrath with a calorie-loaded meal like that when
she was feeling on top of the world.
“Just more water and some dry
toast, thanks,” I muttered, digging through my purse and
wishing desperately that a bottle of ibuprofen would appear in the
bottom. No dice. Of course not.
“Is something wrong?” Paige
asked. “Did you lose your phone, or—?”
“Nope,” I grumbled, setting
my purse back on the seat. “I’m fine.”
After the waiter was gone, there was an
awkward silence that was probably less than five seconds, but that my
guilt managed to stretch into eons.
“Ally, honestly, what’s
bothering you?” Paige’s voice was concerned now. “Usually
when we’re here, I can’t get you to stop raving about the
waffles.”
“The waffles are still
rave-worthy,” I said.
“Or else you’d be ranting
about work,” Paige went on with a fond smile. “All the
injustices and slights you’re fighting uphill against, but how
it’ll all be worth it someday.”
“Didn’t realize I was such
a predictable conversationalist,” I said awkwardly.
“No, no, I like hearing you talk
about work!” Paige said quickly. “I’ve always
admired how hard you fight—is that it? Did something really bad
happen at your job?”
“No, no,” I said before she
could get too worried about me and twist the guilt-knife in my gut
any further. “Nothing bad. Something kind of good, actually.
For
the fabric there as I claimed him with my mouth. He nibbled at my
lower lip and I moaned against him, parting my lips invitingly until
he thrust his tongue inside, tasting me, exploring me, making me
squirm against him in desire.
And then—
And then he pulled back and gave me a
gentle peck on the lips, a wistful smile on his face before he walked
away, leaving me reeling and more confused than ever.
But also a little bit…hopeful?
Until I realized: what the hell had I
just done?
And what was I going to tell Paige?
SIX
I fussed with the edge of my napkin and
tried not to feel guilty. It was tricky. I had a lot of things to
feel guilty about. Number one on that list was either making out with
Hunter after I’d sworn that I wouldn’t get in the way of
his and Paige’s budding relationship, or else it was all the
things I could vaguely remember telling Chuck last night—I just
hoped I hadn’t told him any more things that I now forgot. And
I hoped he’d been as drunk as me. With any luck, he wouldn’t
remember a thing.
Unfortunately, Paige was unlikely to
ever get drunk enough to forget that she had been dating Hunter Knox,
so I’d decided that my first stop on the damage control tour
was going to be brunch at our favorite local diner, where I’d
break the news to her as gently as I could, and hope she could find
it in her heart to forgive me.
A waiter nearly dropped my coffee cup
onto the saucer and I winced, pain lancing through my head.
It was super not helping my damage
control tour planning that I was hungover as hell. Every time I tried
to think of how I’d start the conversation, something—usually
mind-boggling pain—would distract me.
“Ally!”
I looked up, trying to grin at Paige in
an ‘I don’t feel like a dentist’s drill is going
through my skull’ sort of way.
“Hey, Paige.”
She looked great, rested and content
and glowing with new love in a pair of comfy jeans and a soft pink
cardigan. Guilt turned over in my stomach, more painful than the
hangover.
What I was about to say would probably
wipe that happy smile right off her face.
Before I could even get started,
though, the waiter swooped over, probably drawn by the glow of
Paige’s contentment. “And what can I get you two ladies?”
“Stack of pancakes with
strawberry syrup and whipped cream, a side of bacon extra well done,
and a mint chocolate chip milkshake, please,” Paige said with a
chipper grin, which only increased my trepidation. Paige only risked
our mother’s wrath with a calorie-loaded meal like that when
she was feeling on top of the world.
“Just more water and some dry
toast, thanks,” I muttered, digging through my purse and
wishing desperately that a bottle of ibuprofen would appear in the
bottom. No dice. Of course not.
“Is something wrong?” Paige
asked. “Did you lose your phone, or—?”
“Nope,” I grumbled, setting
my purse back on the seat. “I’m fine.”
After the waiter was gone, there was an
awkward silence that was probably less than five seconds, but that my
guilt managed to stretch into eons.
“Ally, honestly, what’s
bothering you?” Paige’s voice was concerned now. “Usually
when we’re here, I can’t get you to stop raving about the
waffles.”
“The waffles are still
rave-worthy,” I said.
“Or else you’d be ranting
about work,” Paige went on with a fond smile. “All the
injustices and slights you’re fighting uphill against, but how
it’ll all be worth it someday.”
“Didn’t realize I was such
a predictable conversationalist,” I said awkwardly.
“No, no, I like hearing you talk
about work!” Paige said quickly. “I’ve always
admired how hard you fight—is that it? Did something really bad
happen at your job?”
“No, no,” I said before she
could get too worried about me and twist the guilt-knife in my gut
any further. “Nothing bad. Something kind of good, actually.
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