The Last First Kiss (The Do-Over Pact Book 2)

by Rocklyn Ryder

  The Last First Kiss

  The Do-Over Pact Book 2

  Rocklyn Ryder

  Copyright © 2020Rocklyn Ryder

  All rights reserved worldwide

  No part of this book may be reproduced, uploaded to the Internet, or copied without permission from the author. The author respectfully asks that you please support artistic expression and help promote anti-piracy efforts by purchasing a copy of this book at the authorized online outlets.

  This is a work of fiction intended for mature audiences only. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to events, locales, business establishments, or actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is purely coincidental.

  All sexual activities depicted occur between consenting characters 18 years or older who are not blood related.

  The Last First Kiss

  The Do-Over Pact Book 2

  Paige

  "It's not like you were fooling anyone," Bailey's telling Moll as I grab a seat. "You stopped drinking the mimosas right after Labor Day. We all knew."

  "Wait, what'd I miss?" I ask as soon as I get settled in and reach for the pitcher.

  "Molly's knocked up," Bailey informs me dryly.

  "OH MY GOD! REALLY?!"

  OK, that came out really loud. Oops.

  My friends are all looking at me, but so is everyone else at the Boat Dock.

  "Sorry," I apologize to the rest of the room with a shrug.

  "Molly, really? Already? Are you happy? Is it on purpose? Does Reagan know?"

  I have a million questions.

  Molly just laughs and answers them all one at a time.

  "You really didn't know?" Sierra asks me while she alternately runs one of her pastel crayons over her sketchbook and sips from today's concoction.

  I shake my head as I taste the mimosa of the week.

  I really didn't know our Molly has been pregnant for almost two months already.

  The summer went by so fast and she found Reagan right after we made the pact and--

  "What is this?" I ask the girls, breaking into the out of control internal monologue running through my brain this morning.

  "Jen called it apple horchata," Abbey tells me.

  "I don't know what 'horchata' is," Molly mentions, "I'm kinda glad I can't drink anymore, I don't think I'd like this one."

  "No, Moll, it's really good, it's just...different for a mimosa," I promise.

  Molly shakes her head and gives me a weary stink eye. She's not very fond of off the guys' less traditional recipes but she's a good sport about joining us every Sunday for our weekly Besties and Brunch get-togethers.

  The mimosa of the week is perfect for the soggy November weather with a faintly apple pie flavor and a sort of creamy flavor that reminds me of something Sierra makes sometimes.

  "Horchata is spiced rice milk. It's Mexican, I think," Sierra explains.

  "Actually, I was in the kitchen when they were working on the recipe," Bailey breaks in, "It's originally from Spain and it dates back to the 13th century, but they make it with tiger nuts there. Gil was going to use tiger nuts for this recipe but he couldn't find a reliable source for bulk at a good price."

  We're all staring at her now.

  "So Gil's using rice." Bailey looks back at us and smiles confidently.

  She loves being in the spotlight and she's so good at it. I envy her natural confidence.

  "So what's up with you and Gil, anyway?" Molly shoots a suspicious glance at Bailey and asks what we all want to know.

  "Pfft," Bailey waves her hand in dismissal with a snort, "please, that hasn't been happening since forever. We're just friends. And I like free food."

  Our waitress stops by and takes our orders and, as usual, I got here late and jumped right into catching up after not seeing the girls all week, so I haven't had a chance to look over the menu.

  "The omelet, thanks," I tell Jen as I hand the menu back to her.

  It's easier to just order off the specials menu since there's usually a couple of options each week and I can make up my mind pretty easy that way-- whatever has meat in it.

  Abby orders her usual pancakes. Also one of the specials this week, it's called an "rainbow stack" and it come with three different toppings-- strawberries, house made marshmallow topping, and a syrup that Jen explains is colored with some sort of butterfly powder which sounds really pretty but if I can't do the sticky sweet carb-loaded thing.

  Maybe I'll mooch a bite from Abby if they look as good as they sound.

  "Wow," I still can't believe it. Molly's engaged, pregnant, and finishing her degree.

  All in less than six months.

  "Are we doing a friends-giving this year?" I butt in when the conversation is ready to break away from Molly's news, Bailey's suspicious friendship with an old high school flame, Sierra's latest art project-- other than the beautiful abstract landscape she's been working on through brunch, and Abby's adorable stories about her favorite students in this year's class of second graders.

  "Of course we're still doing friends-giving," Bailey seems slightly horrified at the suggestion we wouldn't, "we've been doing it every year since high school, why would this year be different?"

  "I guess I just thought, you know," I cast a glance at Molly sitting across from me looking all kinds of happy and glowy and unusually tired for barely 10 AM on a Sunday, "Molly's planning a wedding and a baby and she has a whole new family this year that we have to share her with now."

  "Don't worry," Molly assures me with a yawn, "Reagan's folks are coming out the week before and we're going to get our families together and see how they mix. I'll be available for our regular get together and I'll be ready for it!"

  "You look tired," Abby tells Molly, "Do you have morning sickness?"

  Molly shakes her head and tries to hide another yawn, "Nope. Haven't been sick at all. Just super tired and super forgetful...OH! That reminds me, guess who's back in town?"

  Something about the way Molly looks right at me when she says it, has the baby hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.

  "Oh!" Sierra bounces in her chair, "That's right! I totally forgot too, so see? It's not just pregnancy brain."

  "You sure?" Bailey gives See one of her suggestive eyebrow wiggles.

  "Trust me," Sierra snarks back, "if I have pregnancy brain, you need to call the Vatican."

  We all share a commiserating laugh.

  Well, Abby and I do.

  Molly's officially out of the pact and Bailey refuses to join.

  Sierra's made it pretty clear she's starting to struggle with her resolve to refrain from another casual hook up and while Abby and I can share the sentiment, we're both holding out better than See.

  Personally, I love that we made the pact to reclaim our bodies and save ourselves from now on like maybe we should have to begin with.

  Well...maybe that's just me. But it's nice to know my besties are in this with me.

  "What?" I ask, feeling uncomfortable as all eyes at the table are fixed on me, "Should I know?"

  "Spencer!" Sierra practically sings his name and beams at me like I'm supposed to be excited.

  Shit.

  "Yeah, he just showed up out of nowhere the other day and said he sold the van and had a job interview," Molly adds, a tad more calmly.

  Jen brings the cart and starts serving our food, mixing up the orders and setting Abby's stack of pancakes in front of me and my omelet with all the eggs, real cheese, and chili verde in front of poor Sierra who's pretty good about other people eating meat but would prefer not to have it s
itting in front of her.

  "Can we get that next pitcher, please?" Bailey hands the empty mimosa pitcher to Jen who just nods and apologizes slightly less than sincerely.

  It takes a second for us to shuffle the plates so that everyone has the right order, and I admit it's hard to hand Abby's pancakes back to her. There's about six silver dollar size cakes in a stack and each one is a different color. The whole stack is topped with a thick dollop of fluffy marshmallow that sits like a cloud on top of a My Little Pony-like rainbow of pancakes.

  But I'd go into a hypoglycemic coma an hour from now if I ate that-- not to mention gaining twenty pounds in a second.

  "So Spence is back?" I try to sound completely casual as I push my fork into my omelet, but inside, I'm falling apart.

  Spencer

  Two months in the van.

  I spent most of it parked out in the desert or up in the mountains, chillin' on public land and watching the world through the open back doors.

  My life was a fuckin' Instagram story. All sunrises and sunsets and campfires on the beach.

  I got some great pics.

  I also got a big wake up call.

  After college I thought I was going to take my new degree and go help cities upgrade their infrastructure to more efficient, have less impact on the planet, become more sustainable.

  Not only did it turn out to be harder to get into the kind of job market I was seeking, it turned out every place I interviewed with was less about responsible community growth than cutting corners to save money or doing the least they had to meet new regulations.

  It really fucked with my head for a minute and I admit I didn't know how to pivot.

  So I grabbed my pack and laced up my boots and next thing I knew, I was walking to Canada. From the Mexican border.

  Hiking the Pacific Crest Trail wasn't just an epic experience, it really gave me time to think and put things in perspective. By the time I was kissing the monument at the northern terminus, I thought I had shit figured out.

  But then I had a real hard time getting back into the real world grind. I couldn't handle all the noise and the claustrophobia back in the city and that's when I got the bright idea to trade everything I had left for cargo van and turn it into the kind of epic camper that I was seeing all over the internet.

  Reagan got into building tiny homes and his business was booming, I figured my van build would be perfect flag ship project for him to expand his business.

  I just needed some more funds.

  The PCT took almost six months and I was paying to keep my shit in storage back home during that time, plus I still had the usual cell phone and insurance bills to cover and as soon as I got back to reality, my student loan payments kicked in.

  Money got tight and I sold everything I had to buy the van.

  My 1992 Ford Econoline is a far cry from all the high end Mercedes Sprinter vans clogging up my social media feed but it was built solid, and with a little haggling I was able to buy it cash.

  Hearing from Dan and Gil that they had opened up the cafe and were willing to let me park the van in their driveway if I wanted to wait tables was pure serendipity, man.

  Perfect timing.

  And then my big bro agreed to come all the way out to Landsburg for the summer to build out my rig?

  Everything was falling into place and I was convinced that I was on exactly the path I was supposed to be on.

  It wasn't until I was watching the full moon rise over the mountains down in New Mexico that it hit me.

  Ever since I'd left Landsburg with the sweet van that my brother helped me build, a fat bank account from waiting tables for a few months with no rent to cover, and plans to head to Baja California, I'd lost that grounded feeling that I'd found.

  That night in the Gila, watching the moon, all I could think of was how it was Saturday night and if I was back in Landsburg, I'd be working the Sunday brunch crowd at the Dock.

  And working Sunday brunch meant Paige.

  And Paige is better than any desert moon rise I'm going to see in this lifetime.

  I packed up the van and headed out right then. Woke up in a Walmart parking lot and called Trevor first thing to ask if his offer was still on the table.

  So here I am.

  "Thanks, man," I hand the guy's mirror back to him after inspecting the back and giving my approval. "Looks great."

  Handing over a few bills to cover the cut and shave and a few more for the extra work I made him do, I can't help but run my hand through the new 'do despite the product in my hair.

  Back out on the sidewalk in front of the barber shop I look up and down at the main street of Landsburg and try to adjust to feeling like my head is three pounds lighter.

  Job, check.

  Big boy hair cut, check.

  I fiddle with the keys in my pocket and smile.

  Grown up house complete with indoor plumbing, check.

  No reason to put money into a new car anytime soon. Trevor says the city authorized a lease for me that I can use for personal shit too. So I just have to wait to see what he gets me.

  All that's left to do now is to go get my woman.

  While I fiddle with the new house keys in my pocket, headed toward the Hungry Hut for a killer milk shake and a burger, I frown into the afternoon sun.

  There's not a doubt in my mind that Paige is mine.

  She's the reason I ended up in Landsburg, she's the reason I'm back in Landsburg, and she's the reason I'm going to stay in Landsburg.

  But every time I asked her out before, she blew me off.

  I know all about her and her friend's "do-over pact," and I know Paige has some good reasons for deciding to do the born-again virgin thing.

  I overheard plenty of conversations between her and her girlfriends while I was waiting their table during their Sunday brunches and her friend, Molly, is about to be my new sister-in-law and make me an uncle for the first time.

  Which is pretty awesome and just gives me yet another reason to make Landsburg home.

  It might have made sense for Paige to avoid a penniless, part time waiter, living in a van and sporting the manbun look.

  Especially one that wasn't sticking around.

  But now I'm back and I'm going to prove to her that I'm not just capable of giving her the life she deserves, I'm going to make sure she gets it.

  Paige

  All week at work I've barely been able to concentrate.

  The hotel is hosting an anniversary party in the grand ballroom in less than a month. I'm in charge of everything. Which shouldn't be a challenge for me.

  God knows I've organized bigger events with less time.

  Maybe it's because the holidays are also coming up.

  Maybe it's because I'm also trying to plan a wedding for one of my best friends and her bridal shower, which is not going to be anywhere near what I'd had in mind now that we know Molly's pregnant too.

  Maybe it's because Molly is beating me to the altar and the delivery room-- I always thought I'd go first, you know?

  I thought I'd be getting married right after high school and that Brad and I would go off to college together.

  I had plans.

  Turns out, Brad had plans too.

  They weren't the same plans I had.

  The thing is, I was saving myself for my wedding night. Then my high school sweetheart talked me into surrendering my V-card on prom night.

  After all, we were going to be together forever. He painted a really romantic picture: prom king and queen, high school sweethearts, homecoming queen and captain of the football team.

  We were the perfect American couple.

  Brad and I were the kids they write country western songs about...the kind where grandparents are telling their stories to their grandkids.

  Well, in the long run, I guess we ended up being a country song after all-- the kind where a no-good, lying, cheating asshole breaks a woman's heart.

  But I didn't go after Brad with a shotgun. Or ev
en fuck up his truck.

  In retrospect, I should have at least fucked up his truck.

  Instead, I switched colleges at the last minute and partied my way through the betrayal.

  This do-over pact I made with the girls is just what I needed.

  And a busy event season will only help keep me focused on work.

  Because if there's anything that's going to tempt me to break the pact-- it's Spence.

  He asked me out a couple of time last summer. Back when he was working at the cafe, when his brother and Molly were just starting to hang out.

  And, I mean, Spencer is great. I know he's got a brain in his head, he was working on his graduate degree in engineering when Dan and Gilbert-- the brothers that own the Boat Dock Cafe-- met him in college. But he's got no ambition.

  I may only be an event coordinator for a hotel, but I'm the event coordinator for Landsburg and the Landsburg Palace Inn is the event center for town.

  That means almost every wedding, every anniversary, every graduation, every prom, all land on my desk.

  Spence might be hot as fire, but I know what happens when you play with fire.

  Just thinking about him gets me hot and bothered. Thinking about all the sly looks that passed between us last summer, all the filthy fantasies he starred in, all the late night talks in the county park...that time he tried to kiss me after the Labor Day picnic.

  I almost let him.

  But by that time, we'd already made the do-over pact and I knew if I kissed Spencer, there was no way I'd be able to stop there.

  So I ducked.

  Just like I had ducked every other opportunity to turn just friends into something I might regret.

  When he and his brother, Reagan, finished building his camper van and he quit his job at the cafe-- I thought I'd managed to duck temptation too.

  Finding out that he's back in town has been nothing but bad for me.