by Lauren Runow
“So,” I start while he looks at the menu, “Melody says you’re an accountant.”
“Yes. I work for corporate accounts. When I was in college, there was a major hiring freeze in the country, so I did a search on the best jobs to get hired in, and voilà, I found my career. Everybody needs an accountant. Businesses, nonprofits, schools … you and me. It’s stable work, so don’t worry; I won’t be asking you to pay for dinner or front me rent money.”
I laugh at his joke because it’s the polite thing to do.
“Melody said you’re self-employed. I know it’s not something you discuss on a first date, but I’d be happy to look at your books and help you find ways to save money. Like, tonight for example. I’ll be writing it off as a business expense.”
I lift a brow. “Because we’re talking taxes, I’m a business meeting?”
He lifts his water glass. “See? Money saved. Order whatever you’d like.”
“You must also be very time efficient during tax season.”
He grins. “I’m in corporate, so it’s always the busy season. When I’m with someone, I like to get in and get out.”
I want to laugh at how horrible that sounds for his bedroom antics, but I hold back my bad joke.
“What do you do for a living? Melody wouldn’t say. She thought it would make great first-date chatter.”
“I write romance.”
He laughs loudly. “Really?”
“Yes, really. Why do you think that’s funny?”
“Romance? You mean, like those books that have Fabio on the cover?” With his chest puffed out, he pushes his arms back and poses like you’d see a male model doing on the cover of a tawdry historical romance.
“Um, no. Not that there’s anything wrong with those. I’ve actually read quite a few and enjoyed them. But I write contemporary romance.”
“There’s a difference?”
I pause and think. “Well, it’s romantic literature that primarily focuses on the developing romance and relationship between two people. Being contemporary means the book takes place in the here and now, so my characters are experiencing difficulties that you and I would on a daily basis.”
“Like what?” he asks, leaning on the table with his arms crossed.
“Navigating the online dating world, wanting to have a baby when you’re single and in your mid-thirties, falling for your boss—”
“Going to sex dungeons.” His eyes widen with excitement, which creeps me out.
“Going on horrible first dates.” I raise my eyebrows at him, silently telling him to get his mind out of the gutter.
Tommy leans back and apologizes, “Sorry. I thought that was part of your genre.”
I explain, “It is. And I’ve read countless dirty books that I love. But those are erotic. My books are sweet yet steamy when you get to the love scenes. I like to explore the relationship deeper, watch my characters grow, and—” My eyes meet his, and I stop suddenly. “Sorry. This is totally inside baseball. It’s like if you started talking to me about amortization.”
“I really could.” He grins, and I shake my head with a fake laugh, knowing the word amortization is about as far as my interest in the subject goes.
“So, what else do you do?” he asks with an unsure inhale.
“In terms of …”
“For work.”
I give him the side-eye. “That is my job.”
“You’re a self-employed writer?” He seems disturbed by this info.
I nod with my eyebrows raised. “Yes. I make a good living actually.”
“Interesting,” he says in a dismissive way as he turns his attention back to his menu.
I place my hands on the table before I announce, “I have to use the ladies’ room. If you’ll excuse me.”
He stands when I do, which is very courteous, so I try to bring down the irritation brewing inside of me. “Sure. Should I order you anything?”
“Yes. Please order me a Manhattan.”
“Isn’t that a manly drink?” He scrunches his face like women should only drink lemon drops or white wine.
“I don’t know. Are you going to order one too?” I tilt my head, daring him.
“Nah, I’m ordering a beer.”
“Well then, in this case, the beer would be the manly drink.” I tap the table with my hand twice, my point made clearly.
He quickly raises his eyebrows in response as he lets out a breath. I turn and head toward the restroom, taking a long time because I need a break.
Something about this date is not going as planned.
“Nope. Lacey, you will not sabotage this date before it’s even begun. He was just asking questions. You’re navigating the first-date crash course. You’ll find your stride. Give it to the end of dinner.”
Thankfully, there’s no one in the restroom to hear me give myself a pep talk.
I freshen up my lip-gloss and check my dress again. Feeling renewed, I walk out of the restroom to see my table is empty.
First, I assume he went to the men’s room until I notice him at the bar, talking to a woman in a rather intimate way. When I see them exchange numbers, I shake my head, knowing my instincts were right. Instead of giving him another second of my time, I walk straight for the door, opting to take a bus home rather than stay for dinner.
Chapter Nine
“Would you like more wine?” I ask Charisse as I hold up the bottle.
She picks up her glass. “How dare you even ask. Of course I would. Melody’s driving tonight. And she’s putting Aubrey to bed when we get home.” She turns to give Melody a huge smile, and I know that wasn’t originally part of the plan.
Melody laughs as she picks her daughter up off the floor. “I guess I should have known that would be the deal.”
“It’s the least we can do since we set my best friend up with a douche in a suit.” Charisse gives me a sorrowful expression as she takes a sip.
“Tommy is a nice guy,” Melody explains for the thousandth time. “How he behaves in the office and on a date are two very different things. I’m sorry he hit on someone else.”
Waving my arm in the air to push away the negative energy of the conversation and work it into the past. “Okay, what’s on the agenda tonight?”
“Drunk social-media planning!” Charisse laughs as I slide in next to her at the kitchen table. She opens her tote, which is hanging from her chair, and removes her cell phone.
Charisse is my unofficial social-media guru. She keeps me up-to-date on new trends and tells me easy things I can do throughout the week to stay relevant. Between Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, and Twitter, I easily run out of reasons to stay in front of people. Posting about books can only take me so far. And since I don’t have kids or exciting hobbies to post about, I need all the recommendations I can get.
“I have an idea,” she says, holding her cell phone to her chest.
“And I told her it was a bad one and she should stay out of it,” Melody interjects as she sits on the other side of the table with Aubrey in her arms.
Charisse sits up taller. “It’s a great idea. And until you become the queen of attracting social-media followers, you have no say in my brilliance!”
“I’m insta-putty in your hands. Teach me, oh wise one.” I laugh as I mock bow at her greatness.
She holds up the phone and shows me TikTok, a platform I’m still trying to figure out how to make work for my career. The hard part is, it’s all videos, so I can’t just go in and post a photo in two seconds and move on. I have to plan and record things. It’s both fun and exhausting. Yet that’s the life of an author.
“Is this like the dance you made me do last week?” I ask, looking at the screen.
“It’s better. It’s called the Kissing Best Friend Challenge!” She is giddy with drunk excitement.
It sounds harmless enough, so I give it a watch. The first video is a girl walking up to a guy on the beach. His back is to her, and the caption reads, So, I wanted to try the
Kissing Best Friend Challenge.
I look up at Charisse, wildly confused. “This is a make-out thing?”
“Just keep watching. Watch, like, ten,” she demands.
I look down at the screen just in time to see the girl tap the guy on the back. When he turns toward her, she stands on her toes and kisses him. She quickly backs away, laughing, but he’s not. He grabs her hand and pulls her back into a heated embrace. It’s so sweet.
I watch another. This one doesn’t go as well. The caption starts with the girl telling us that the guy next to her has been her best friend since she was nine. She leans over and kisses him, and then he palms her in the face, pushing her away with a laugh.
I scroll through more than ten, as these videos of friends crossing the line can be super addictive. Some of them totally get into it when the guy obviously feels the same way, yet a few of them aren’t into it. One says their friendship was ruined over it. That breaks my heart.
I’m a mix of emotions when the most recent video ends. The couple just laughs when it’s over, and then they go in for a hug. I like this one the best.
“I’m digging it, but how can I participate? I don’t have a best friend I’ve pined over for years.” I hand Charisse her phone back.
“No, you don’t, but …” Her lips grow into a shit-eating grin.
I turn to Melody, and she holds up a finger as she bounces Aubrey on her knee. “I told her it was a really bad idea.”
“How bad?”
Charisse bites her lower lip. “I was thinking you could film your version of the challenge with your naughty neighbor.”
A sharp laugh escapes my mouth. “Jake? Seriously?”
“See, I told you!” Melody yells out, and Aubrey hushes her mom. Melody kisses the little girl’s head.
“Oh, come on. It’s brilliant,” Charisse defends her suggestion. “Your posts with a picture of you outperform the others, and your videos are even better. You know this will get likes, comments, and shares like crazy. You have a few thousand fans on TikTok alone, and when we did that dance last week, you had a thousand shares. You can copy and paste it to all of your accounts. You don’t have to have just TikTok to enjoy it.”
I pick up my drink and think about it. My first thought: No. Fucking. Way.
I have no idea how Jake would react if I made out with him on a whim. We’re not friends like that.
Except for that one time I let him put his hands on me while he painted my body.
I still quiver at the thought.
“If I did it, I’d have to tell him first. He’d have to be one hundred percent game.”
“Hell no!” Charisse yells. “You do this once, and you do it the right way. That’s what makes these videos so appealing. The audience will know if he’s faking it.”
I pull on my lip as I think about what it would be like to kiss him. His lips alone were enough for me to use as inspiration when describing my new hero. They’re so full and luscious and—
Dear me, am I really considering this?
If I did it and he was horrified, I’d have the excuse of the video challenge to use as an explanation. He would understand, and I bet he’d be willing to play along a second time once I told him. Plus, it would be cool for my heroine to kiss the guy first. I could write it with firsthand knowledge, which would definitely make it more real.
“Come on. Don’t be such a wimp.” Charisse playfully nudges my leg. “You can tell him before you post it, but you can’t tell him before you film. It’d ruin the vibe. You know he’ll be okay with it though. Men love the attention.”
She’s right there. This man would love the attention, but I hate the idea of filming him like this without him knowing.
“You’re sure this is a good career move?” I take a sip and set my glass down, swirling the wine in my mouth before I swallow it. “I don’t think he’d get upset, like some of those guys in the videos did,” I say, more thinking out loud.
“See,” Charisse says to Melody. “I knew she’d at least think about it.”
“I mean, it’s a bad idea, but it’s not horrible. He’d totally understand that I did it for my followers. We’ve discussed how I have to keep up on all social-media platforms. And he’s offered to help.”
“You are just taking him up on his offer.” Charisse nods with a smile on her face and sways her head like she’s doing the Night at the Roxbury head dance.
“Do you have a twitch?” I look toward Melody to see if Charisse’s spasms are normal.
“Go. Now. Go do it,” Charisse says, nudging me toward the door.
“Now?” I open my eyes wide as my mouth drops.
“If you don’t do it now, you’ll think about it too much, and then you’ll get inside your head and talk yourself out of it. It’s like ripping a Band-Aid off. You just need to do it right away.”
I turn to Melody for her advice, and she shakes her head.
“Nope, I’m not helping with this one. It’s all on Drunky McDrunkster.”
Shoot. Okay. I guess if this is going to happen, then there’s no better time than the present.
With some liquid courage and bravado from my friend, I stand up.
“How do I look?” I ask, taking in my leggings and oversize sweatshirt.
She shakes her head, slapping her forehead with her palm. “You really need to get dressed up more often.”
“What? I’m at home, doing nothing.”
The two look at each other with scrunched faces, like I’ve offended them.
I wave them off and head toward the door. “You know what I mean. Okay, I’m going. Wish me luck.”
“Your phone,” Charisse yells out, and I run back to her to grab it before heading out the door.
As I knock on Jake’s door, I check to make sure my phone has enough battery. I’m tapping my foot on the floor as I knock again and wait from him to answer.
When it opens, I’m greeted by him in gray sweats and no shirt. That beautiful, glistening, tanned skin is on full display. I have to blink as I move my eyes up to his face and smile as if I wasn’t just checking out his body—and the happy trail that leads below his pants.
“Hey, what’s going on?” he asks, leaning against the frame.
I should have thought this through a little bit more. Smiling, I decide to not hide my intentions. Well, at least not all of them. “I was hoping you’d help me with a social-media post I wanted to do for TikTok.”
“Is that the dancing app?”
“Yes. And no. There are a ton of challenges you can do, and it’s super fun. Can you help me out?”
He steps back into his apartment, welcoming me inside. “Sure, come on in.”
His apartment looks just like mine, except double in size. The living room, the kitchen and dining area, everything is increased in space. Plus, I’m pretty sure his has two bedrooms, where mine only has one.
It’s also very well decorated—from the steel and glass furniture to the bold artwork and leather couches. Jake definitely spent more time and money decorating his place than I did.
His eyes narrow at me as his lips tilt up in a smirk. “Is there really a TikTok video, or did you just want an excuse to check out my house?”
Placing a palm on my head, I turn to him with a bashful smile. “Yes. Right. Your place is very nice, by the way.” I’m a writer, and I can easily think of a lie on the fly, yet that just feels wrong. I decide to go for omission and just not say anything at all. “I need you to take a seat.”
He shrugs. “Okay. Do I have to say anything?
“Nope. Just sit down,” I answer as I prop the phone on his coffee table and make sure it’s getting the width of his sofa in the shot.
“You look nervous.”
“I am. A little.”
“Should I be nervous?” He’s making a joke, but I don’t laugh.
Instead, I just answer, “Be petrified, my friend. Because I am.”
“You know, you really need to work on your pitch. You’re luck
y I’m pretty much game for anything because you’re not making me feel at ease here.” He chuckles.
Once the camera is in place, I hit record and sit next to Jake on the couch.
“Okay,” I say into the camera, “I’m here with my friend Jake, who lives next door to me. He’s agreed to be in this video, but I haven’t told him what the video is about. So, wish me luck.”
I turn to Jake and take in a deep breath. Lifting my lashes, I look up into his chocolate eyes and melt at the sight of him sitting here, staring at me, waiting to see what I’ll do. His lips quirk up just a touch as he tries to figure out what I’m up to.
My tongue darts out and grazes my lower lip.
His eyes follow my movement. That chocolate turns to midnight.
I run a hand up and down my thigh, mustering up the courage. His finger twitches and hits my thigh.
I take a breath.
Here goes nothing.
Leaning forward, I arch my back, pucker my lips, and kiss him.
His lips are warm as I press mine against his, barely and briefly. As quick as I started this, I end it even faster, pulling back, my heart racing in my chest.
I take a quick inhale, and before I’m able to release it, Jake’s hands wrap around my head and yank me back in.
He is kissing me.
Where my kiss was quick and vapid, his is intense and heated. His hands move from behind my head to my face, holding me in place and deepening our moment. His tongue flicks and dances against mine, passionate and powerful, as he tucks me flush against him.
I kiss him back.
My body quivers as I stroke my tongue against his, gripping him back and feeling the sensual arousal down in my core. I’ve written kisses. Ones where the man’s hands are an embrace of her cheeks, where her skin warms when his thumb graces the curve of her jaw. I’ve described the way her spine tingles with the swipe of a tongue and how her body clenches with need as his lips wrap around hers.
But I’ve never felt it.
This is a kiss that raises the bar for all other kisses in the history of kisses.
