Kissing Booth

by River Laurent

  “No,” I lied. “I told you I’m not going to that…event.”

  Something flickered in his eyes. He narrowed them. “So what do you want?”

  Fine. He wanted to play it that way. Then he deserved everything he got. I looked at him from between my lashes. “Well, I was thinking…should we be bad? Should we do something sinful together?”

  His eyes gleamed with the kind of wickedness that made me want to put it in a safe so I could take it out every now and again to look at.

  “You sure you want to go there,” he asked. His husky voice had dropped an octave.

  “Baby, I’m already there.” Wow, I was on a roll.

  His eyes widened with surprise. “What were you thinking of?”

  I smiled seductively. “Let’s eat chocolate cake together.”

  To my surprise, he didn’t react at all. I had led him down the garden path, but he was playing it cool. “Sure,” he said softly.

  “I’ll bake it and bring it over. It’ll take me no more than an hour in total. Is that okay with you? Will you still be around?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he said dryly.

  “Good. See you soon. I was wearing my pencil skirt and I did have a good ass on me, so I swung it for all I was worth on my walk back to my apartment. I smiled to myself. I must have done a good job because I never heard his door close until I reached mine.

  Once I was inside I didn’t waste a minute. I made cupcakes using a recipe for a pound cake and just halved all the ingredients. Once I had put them into the oven I started on the icing. As soon as the cakes were ready I took them out transferred them to a plate and stuck them in the freezer for a few minutes.

  While they were in the freezer I applied a layer of gloss and fluffed up my hair. When the tops of the cakes were cool, I took them out and iced them. I put them on a decorative plate and carried them to Max’s door. I knocked and waited.

  “Hello,” he said, his eyes sliding to the plate of cupcakes I was holding.

  “I come bringing peace offerings,” I said with a sweet smile.

  “I didn’t realize we were at war.” His voice was even.

  “You know how competitive some New Yorkers can get during a bet. I just wanted to let you know that I’m not like that.”

  “Bright colors,” he commented.

  I snickered. “Yeah, artificial food coloring. I know you’re a sucker for artificial things.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. He had a very, very nice chest. “Is that some kind of dig at the women I bring home?”

  I’d seen women go into his flat. Women with big breasts. I smiled brightly. “While we’re on the subject of bringing women home, aren’t you going to invite me in?”

  He stepped aside and I sailed in. I went straight to the kitchen and put the cakes on the highly-polished granite island top. Everything in his kitchen looked brand new. It was clear the man never cooked. I opened the refrigerator and took out a carton of milk. I poured it into two glasses and sat on a stool. He took the one opposite. I pushed the plate towards him.

  “It is poisoned?” he asked.

  I didn’t dignify that question with an answer. Instead, I reached out for the cake that was closest to me and was about to bring it to my mouth, when he leaned forward, caught my hand, and took that cake himself.

  I bit my lip. “Very well,” I said and took one of the other cakes.

  He waited until I bit into my cake before he sank his perfect teeth into his. “Why this is delicious,” he said, sounding surprised.

  “I know. It’s a secret recipe.” I licked the icing and his eyes watched my tongue. When I finished my cake I stood. “Right, I should be going.”

  He eyed me suspiciously, but said nothing, as he followed me to the door. When I got back home I changed into my jeans and then sat on my toilet seat and waited. Twenty minutes later I heard his toilet flushing. Bingo. I went back to my living room and let the sound of Adele fill the air, but not too loud that I wouldn’t be able to hear anyone knocking on my door. Less than ten minutes later I heard not a knock, but a banging.

  Mimi

  I opened the door and found Max standing there. His hair was tousled, his face was pale, and there was a sheen of sweat on his face.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked.

  “Cut the crap,” he growled. “What do I do to get rid of it?”

  “Do I win the bet?”

  He thrust a bunch of fifties towards me.

  I don’t want money. I want you to take me to the party.”

  “All right. Hurry up.”

  I opened the door wider. “Come in and sit down.”

  I pulled a small dark bottle out of my back jeans pocket and held it out to him.

  He gave me the death stare. “How do I take it?”

  “Unscrew the cap and drink it.”

  He looked at the Chinese text on the label. “What the hell is this? Are you sure it’s not going to kill me?”

  “Why would I kill you? I need you to take me to the party,” I said sweetly. “Take it. It’s Chinese herbs. It’s a bit bitter, but it works almost instantly. My friend brings it for me from Hong Kong. It’s brilliant for the runs. Down the whole bottle.”

  He glared at me as he glugged it all. Then he closed his eyes and lay back on the sofa. Men were such drama queens. It was just a bit of chocolate flavored laxative. I waited five minutes then sat on the sofa opposite him. “Feel better now?”

  He opened his eyes. “Slightly,” he muttered.

  “Good. Want some water.”

  “You poisoned me,” he accused melodramatically

  Oh, for God’s sakes. “I didn’t poison you. I gave you a laxative. So you had to rush to the toilet once. It’s not the end of the world. In fact, it could even be a good thing. Clean out all the old crap.”

  “So, you will cheat to win,” he observed, looking like a kicked puppy.

  I sighed. “I didn’t cheat. You didn’t set any rules.”

  He made a face.

  “And I was desperate.”

  He touched his stomach gingerly.

  “If I say sorry, can we call it a truce?” I ventured and he nodded.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He nodded again. I was really starting to like this guy. And that was a bad thing. A very bad thing.

  “We really should spend an hour together and discuss this in a mature responsible way. Get our lies straight. You know, where, when, how we met, etc.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll cook for you,” I suggested.

  He recoiled. He actually recoiled in horror.

  I raised both hands. “Okay. Okay. I only offered because you look like you can’t cook to save your life.”

  His eyes widened. “Did you just insult my cooking skills?”

  “No. Absolutely not. I’m looking forward to eating your cooking.”

  “I’m busy for the rest of the week. Tuesday next, seven-thirty okay with you?”

  “Great.”

  He stood and I jumped up. “I’m really sorry,” I said as we walked to the door.

  He turned and grinned suddenly. “How sorry?”

  I took a step back, thrown by the abrupt change in him. I knew I had started it, but I didn’t really think it through. “How sorry do you want me to be?” I asked uncertainly.

  He stared into my eyes, making my insides melt. “I’ll think about it and tell you the next time I see you.”

  Mimi

  My first stop in the entryway was always the mailbox. I pulled a few envelopes out and headed for the elevator. There was a smile on my face when I thought about how well I was doing at work. I could hold my head up high and when I ran into Josh, which was often, I found it easy to act as if I bore no grudge at all. Maybe I didn’t. My heart was never in it and I was actually relieved to know the truth.

  Tracee was so right. I could do much better than him. I still wasn’t sure what I was thinking when I decided to sleep with him.
Now when I looked at him, all I saw was a frat boy who’d never grown up. He worked out, but the drinking he did with his buddies kept him slightly soft and a little pudgy. His idea of reading was a Maxim magazine. I had nothing against action movies, but that was all he was willing to watch. Now he was going to be a father. I wasn’t sure who I felt worse for, Lillian, the kid, or him.

  I hit the elevator button and looked down at my mail. The sight of a handwritten envelope in the middle of bills and junk mail made me forget all about Josh. I opened it as I stepped onto the elevator. There was a ticket inside, along with a note.

  I have an extra ticket for tonight’s show. Are you free? – Max

  I took a closer look at the ticket and gasped. Adele? He had an extra ticket to see Adele? Whoever has an extra ticket to see Adele? And from the looks of it, the seat was only four rows back from the stage. My hands trembled with excitement as I struggled to figure out if it was all a big joke. A little revenge for the laxative trick I played on him.

  I hoped he didn’t think that what happened at his apartment would happen again. I was so, so drunk when we made out. I wouldn’t let myself lose control again. I was soooo off men. I wanted nothing to do with men for years. I had absolutely no intention of hooking up with him. Just imagine having to listen to all his women night after night for the rest of my life. I shivered. No thanks.

  I thought of that soul-searing kiss. With him, I could lose my heart, and that would be a very stupid thing to do. Far stupider than going out with Josh.

  But…Adele.

  I had tried and tried to get tickets, but no go. I couldn’t even score seats in the nosebleed section. Nada. And here was Max, handing one over like it was nothing.

  If he’d left it in my mailbox, it meant he was probably at home. I screwed up my courage and went up to his door. I had to stay strong. I couldn’t fall prey to his cool gray eyes or that magnetic pull that seemed to pulse out of him. Or that sensuous mouth.

  When he answered the door, it was with a smile on his face and a cocktail in one hand. “Hey, there.” He couldn’t have been smoother if he tried. I told myself to keep my eyes off his body. He was wearing sweats, and I could see the outline of his sizeable crown jewels.

  “Hey.” I held up the ticket. “Are you serious about this?”

  He shrugged, a sexy smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Does it look like a real ticket?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, I guess I’m serious.”

  I looked at it again, then at him. “Who’s going? I mean, how many tickets are there?”

  “Two.”

  “You and me?”

  “That’s about it, yeah.”

  I couldn’t help but tilt my head to the side, eyes narrowed in disbelief. “You’re an Adele fan?”

  He shrugged. “Who doesn’t like Adele?”

  “I just can’t see you sitting at one of her concerts, is all.”

  “You will if you come with me tonight.” He sipped his amber liquor, unable to keep the smile from his lips. Damn, he was smooth. I had walked right into that one.

  “Can I ask a serious question and can you answer honestly?”

  He nodded.

  “Do I owe you anything for this?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Do I come off like the sort of guy who expects something from a woman when he’s just trying to do something nice?”

  “No.”

  “Why do I feel like you’re lying?”

  He shook his head with disgust and actually started closing his door.

  I threw myself against the wood to keep him from shutting it. “All right, all right. Maybe I’m jaded,” I admitted, wanting to go slice my throat.

  “Jaded. Yes, I know how that feels,” he said, but his eyes had lost their twinkle. He was happy when he opened the door and I went and spoiled it.

  “I’m just a blundering fool. Don’t take it personally, please,” I said.

  Just to rake me over the coals he took his time while he appeared to think it over. Then he opened the door wider and I almost fell through it. “I guess I can be a nice guy and, you know, put myself in your shoes.”

  I straightened. “Thanks so much. You’re a real sweetheart.”

  “What can I say?”

  I grinned up at him. I was already in a different place. I was thinking of watching Adele sing live. “What time should I be ready?”

  Max

  I was still grinning like a dope as I closed the door.

  I knew Mimi liked Adele because I’d heard an Adele track playing the last time I was in her apartment. Buying the tickets was a safe bet. Even if she had refused, I’d have had no trouble passing them on to someone else. Most people liked Adele.

  Except for me.

  I didn’t hate her. I just didn’t have any strong feelings either way. Commercial music was designed to pander to the lowest common dominator: basically, catchy jingles and trash. Give me a good rendition of Carmina Burana any day.

  I finished my drink and went into the shower. I felt good enough to sing.

  If any of my buddies knew what I was doing—basically wooing a girl—they would laugh themselves silly. Couldn’t blame them either. If anyone had told me a couple of weeks earlier I’d be sitting through an Adele concert to get into a girl’s pants, I would’ve said someone made chili soup out of his brain.

  We were talking about me, after all. Maximus Black. The guy who was allergic to the word relationship. How strange that ever since that day she came to my apartment, I’d found myself doing things that were completely out of character.

  I mean, what the fuck? Pretending we were together to help her out. Who was I? Mother Teresa? It was all kinds of crazy, but when I saw that asshole and his crowing girlfriend gang up on her, I couldn’t stop myself. No one was bullying her while I was around. She needed somebody to look after her and I was that guy.

  If any other woman had pulled that stunt she did with the laxative…she’d be using her tears as lube. But with Mimi, I was putty. I just became more and more intrigued.

  Underneath the feisty exterior, she was an innocent sweetheart. She would probably claw and spit at my face if she knew I thought of her that way. She wanted to be a badass, but she was soft at her core. The city hadn’t ruined or hardened her. She was the opposite of Bridget and her brigade. They pretended to be helpless on the outside. Inside they were pure steel.

  I didn’t know why the hell she had that effect on me. What was it about her that made me want to keep trying to get closer? Was it because she seemed to want to stay clear of a relationship with me? Whatever the reason, all I wanted to do was grab her and kiss that plush mouth.

  I guess I always had a thing for Mimi, but I resisted it firmly. After I found her shit-faced and slumped on the front steps there was no denying the attraction.

  She could pretend all she wanted, but I knew she wanted me too. Hell, it took two people to make out. The way she sucked on my tongue as if it was made from sugar. Fuck, I’d been dangerously close to losing control. I would’ve kept going if we hadn’t been interrupted. It wouldn’t have taken anything to lift her up, carry her to the bedroom, and spread her legs open. Even thinking about it now, was giving me a hard-on. I looked down at the raging erection I was sporting. Yeah, there was something about her that got to me.

  I’d already been to the gym for a good workout, so I felt pumped and ready for a good night out. It was only a matter of time before I took what was mine. I grinned to myself as I buttoned up the black shirt I’d chosen, then tucked it into my gray slacks.

  I knocked on her door at seven sharp. The door opened almost immediately and I had to fucking catch my breath. A simple black dress poured over her generous curves like water. Her long hair hung over one shoulder, curled just a little.

  “We match,” she whispered shyly.

  I found my breath. “No. You’re way out of my league. There’s no matching you.”

  She blushed and looked away. I stared in amazement
. It was amazing how effortlessly beautiful she was. I wondered if she had any idea. She couldn’t possibly not know she was irresistible. Smoking hot body. Big, blue eyes. Full ripe mouth. I could already see my cock disappearing into it.

  “Did you call us a cab?” she asked as we walked to the elevator.

  “Why would I call us a cab?”

  She frowned. “I hope we can find one in time.”

  “Just because we’re not taking a cab doesn’t mean I didn’t secure transportation. This isn’t my first rodeo.”

  Her lips curved and my cock twitched.

  “It’s not? Do you have a whole stockpile of concert tickets lying around? Is this part of your normal routine?”

  I touched her mouth. Something inside me broke. Hell, she had me on the hook. “Nothing about you is normal.”

  Her lips parted on a soundless gasp. I took my hand away and she chewed on her bottom lip.

  She was like a little girl in a sweet shop inside the limo. I poured champagne into her glass and she insisted on clinking glasses. It was so sweet and old-fashioned. We drank to a great night. She’d never been in a limo, and I was glad to be the first one to give her a ride in one.

  I watched her in awe. The curve of her cheek, the color in them, her curving mouth. Her skin glowed and my heart swelled with something unfamiliar.

  At the concert she sang every song, cheering, clapping and whooping for three hours. I didn’t have to pretend to enjoy it since I’d already confessed Adele was not really my thing. What she didn’t know was, I enjoyed the show more than her. I couldn’t help but smile through the whole show. It was starring Mimi Young.

  The real kicker, the big deal, came after the concert. It was the kiss I left on her upturned cheek after I walked her to her door. I heard her sigh just a little, then I turned and walked away. It killed me to do it, but when I was a kid in short pants, my granddad said, “Always leave ‘em wanting more, boy.”

  “Thanks, Grandad.”

  Mimi