I cabbed it over here, so I take her up on the offer. I open the door for her, click it shut, then walk around to the passenger seat, reminding myself that Violet and I simply need to segue back to the way we were.
Inside the car, we’re silent at first, as she grabs roughly at the seat belt. The belt sticks, and she tugs it hard, yanking it across her, her elbow nearly smacking me.
“Sorry,” she mutters.
I hold up my hands. “All good.”
She clicks in the buckle then goes to start the car, but she fumbles the key in the ignition.
Shit. She’s nervous. And since she saved me, I need to make sure she’s cool with us. I set a hand on her wrist, stilling her moves. “Are you weirded out that we kissed?”
She wrenches back. “What? No. Of course not.”
“Okay, then.” I take a beat and try to study her face, to figure out where she’s at. “I guess we’re all good, then?”
“Of course. We’re always good.” She lifts her keys again as I buckle my belt. “But, kisses are weird,” she blurts out.
I snap my gaze to her. “They are?”
“Just since I’ve known you for so long,” she says, as if she’s trying to explain a faux pas.
“Right, right.” I rub my palms on my pants. “Not because you think I’m a weird kisser?”
Her eyes widen into moons. “No. You’re not a weird kisser. Do you think you’re a weird kisser?”
I furrow my brow. She’s talking in circles. She has me all twisted up. “I never thought so before, but I’m beginning to now. Did I kiss you weirdly?”
“Did I kiss you weirdly?” she counters, tapping her chest.
And round and round we go. I shake my head. “No. Not in the least.”
“Good,” she says with a nervous laugh as she slides the key into the ignition, getting it right this time. She backs up, shifts into drive, and pulls forward. “I’m not into weird kisses,” she adds.
Nor am I. But I am into fixing things with Violet and restoring the order of our friendship. “Tell the truth. You’re into sloppy wet kisses. Like a dog kiss.” I’m not honestly sure what she does want, so humor is the easiest way through this awkward patch. “Admit it.”
This time, the sound of her laughter isn’t nervous as she rounds the corner of the parking stalls, heading toward the exit ramp. “Oh yes, that’s precisely what I want. Your slobbery kiss.”
I lean over the console and lick her cheek. A long, wet, slurpy kiss engineered to cut the tension.
She shoots a what gives look as she turns the wheel. “Okay, that was definitely bizarre, Cooper.”
We both laugh, then I straighten my tie. “Fine, you think I’m a bizarre kisser. I can live with that,” I say, teasing, since that’s the safest route. I can connect the dots. Violet hasn’t said she liked the kiss. In fact, she’s danced around the topic, sidestepping it in a way that tells me clearly she wasn’t into it.
There’s a part of me, I admit, that wishes she wanted to hump my leg right now, even though I’d have to turn down humping of any part of my anatomy for the sake of maintaining my season-long streak. But I’m man enough to accept when a woman doesn’t dig me. Hell, if I expect Maxine to get a clue that I’m not ripe for her plucking, I’d better get the hint from Violet that the kiss extravaganza didn’t float her boat. It’s a bummer, but that’s life.
She slows at the ticket booth, grabbing my arm. “I never said you’re a bizarre kisser. I didn’t mean it like that.”
But I don’t get a chance to ask what she did mean, because the bored woman at the gate grunts, “Ticket, please.” Violet hands her our validated ticket, and we roll out of the garage.
Once we leave, my phone lights up like the fourth of July as cell reception returns. My screen bleats with missed calls from reporters, a text from my married friends Chris and McKenna, a slew of messages from Jillian, and even an all-caps text from my mom.
Mom: WHY AM I THE LAST TO KNOW THESE THINGS? I ALWAYS LIKED HER. YOU TWO WERE SO CUTE AT HER PROM TOGETHER. I’M LOOKING AT THE PHOTO NOW.
I fire back a reply.
Cooper: I’ll call you tomorrow to explain.
* * *
Mom: I explained the birds and bees to you when you were younger. No need to explain. :)
* * *
Cooper: Seriously, Mom.
As I scroll through the rest of the notifications, I spot a few texts from my agent. Normally, I love talking to Ford, but with the contract overhang, and the anxiety over whether we’re extending the deal with the Renegades, I’m not in the mood this second. Plus, Trent is calling me, and even his name looks pissed off as it flashes on the screen.