Kissing Booth

by River Laurent

  I couldn’t stop thinking about Max all day Wednesday and on Thursday. I actually thought I was becoming obsessed with him. I knew I had to stop or I would end up a basket case. Megan called me up on Friday afternoon to see if I wanted to grab dinner with her. I nearly bit her head off in my eagerness to agree. It was a welcome distraction.

  The problem was she wanted to talk about Max and the engagement party. She leaned toward me from across the table.

  “So, do you know what you’re gonna wear?”

  “I have no idea. I’ll have to dig way back in the closet to find something suitable.”

  She frowned. “Hang on a sec. You said this is at the St. Regis, right?”

  “Yeah. So?” I dug into the bread basket. I was never again making the mistake of drinking on an empty stomach. Bread served in baskets in restaurants was always my greatest weakness. How could it not be? Bleached white flour. It couldn’t even pretend to be anything but bad.

  “So,” she said sternly, “it’s probably a pretty swanky event. No offense, but do you have anything that’ll hold up?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Gee, no offense taken.”

  “I mean it,” she said seriously.

  “I know you do. I have a few nice things, but they’re more like ‘work party’ outfits.”

  “Right. And Josh will already have seen you in both of them.” Megan twirled her red curls absentmindedly as she mused.

  “Uh, I don’t care if he saw me in them. Besides, he’s one of the most oblivious people I know so I doubt he’ll remember any of my outfits and he’ll probably be gazing adoringly at Glamazon to notice.”

  “Okay, all right. Forget him and what he thinks.” She took a sip of her wine, eyeing me up. “What about Max?”

  “What about him?” I suddenly became very interested in the menu, even though that was our favorite little Italian restaurant and I could have recited the menu by heart.

  “Mm-hmm. I thought so.”

  “You thought what?” I demanded. “Please, tell me some more about what’s going on in my head.”

  “Why don’t you stop kidding yourself, Mimi?” She sat back in her chair and smiled. “You were a total swooning fangirl after the concert.”

  “Yeah, for Adele.”

  She laughed. “Adele’s not the one who wooed you with champagne and a limo ride. She didn’t kiss you on the cheek outside your apartment door, make your toes curl, then walk away and leave you gasping for more.”

  I blushed, looking around again. “Could you not say such things so loud in public? Please?”

  “I’m sorry, but you know it’s true. What’s wrong with wanting to look nice for him?”

  I sighed, playing with my water glass. I couldn’t describe how I felt, exactly. “I thought Josh was a trustworthy guy,” I finally murmured, still staring into my glass. “I was so wrong. How can I even consider going out with a commitment-phobe like Max? He goes through women like other people go through tissues. One use and he discards them. I don’t think I can bear to be discarded just now. My pride is already in tatters.”

  “Fine, then.” She folded her hands, a stern expression settling over her face. “Don’t do it for Max or Josh. Do it for you. You deserve to walk into that party feeling gorgeous and fabulous and strong.”

  I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I realized she was right. It wasn’t about either of them. It was about me showing up there and letting Lillian and Josh know they didn’t break me. If she wanted to play games, I’d show her I wouldn’t sink to her level. I could be classy and graceful and tasteful.

  Megan took my silence for acceptance. “So. When are we going shopping?”

  Mimi

  The next time I saw Max was Monday evening when we literally ran into each other. He looked surprised, which told me he hadn’t planned it. He approached our front steps from one direction while I came from the other. I wished the ground would open up and swallow me because I was a sweaty mess. He really didn’t need to see me in such a state.

  Then again, he was sweaty, too.

  The difference was he looked sexy. Why was this man so gorgeous? I wondered if there was a single situation in which he wouldn’t look like a million bucks. I usually didn’t go for guys who had just been out running. Where was the appeal? A sweaty man was a sweaty man. But Max looked good enough to eat, even when the front of his long-sleeved tee was soaked and he was out of breath.

  The first thing that came to mind was the thought of him being sweaty and out of breath in bed. Damn hormones, trying to get me in trouble.

  “You’re a runner?” he asked, taking off his headset.

  I shook my head. “Only when I feel like punishing myself.” He didn’t need to know I was doing all the last-minute working out so that I could tighten up before the party.

  He chuckled. “Come on. Exercise isn’t punishment.”

  “So, you actually like running?” I asked, cocking one eyebrow.

  “Hell, no. I hate it. But all the cool kids are doing it.”

  I had to laugh because he was right on some level. It seemed like all my friends were runners, even Megan. “Why do you think that is?” I asked as we climbed the stairs together.

  “It’s the ‘in’ thing to do. Like organic food, coconut water, and green juice.”

  “Well, I’m not really an ‘in thing’ kind of person. I may never run another step unless it’s to chase the delivery guy if he forgets part of my order.”

  He laughed as we got on the elevator. “I think you have the right idea.”

  I checked him out when he wasn’t looking. If running was what gave him that body, I would never discourage him. I couldn’t help but admire his thick, toned legs, his firm butt, his broad shoulders, the way I would admire a work of art. And that was all it was, sheer admiration. Just observing and admiring and not fantasizing at all.

  I grinned. “I don’t like running, but I do like my coconut water. I have a bunch in my fridge. It’s one of the best things to drink if you want to hydrate naturally and boy, I sound like a commercial.”

  He was kind enough to hide his smile. “I’m sold. I’ll buy a case.”

  “Aw, you’re so sweet. But seriously, do you want one?”

  “Yeah, I’ll come over for coconut water.” He spoke slowly, quietly. His eyes seemed to bore into me. My skin got all tingly. My skin must be so red.

  “I hope you don’t think this is, like, a thinly-veiled attempt at seduction,” I babbled. Oh, God, Mimi. Shut your dumb mouth. Too late. I had already blurted the whole damn thing out.

  He blinked, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. “Wow.”

  “I’m sorry…”

  “No, don’t be. Wow.” He stepped off the elevator, then leaned against the wall. “Not a seduction attempt. And there I was, thinking coconut water was code for something else.”

  “Could you not, please?” My cheeks burned with the heat of a thousand suns.

  “No, really. This is a big moment for me. I never thought of coconut water as an aphrodisiac until this moment.”

  “I really don’t fancy going to prison for killing you.”

  He grinned. “I’m just disappointed, is all.”

  “Shut up. I’m going home.”

  “So, no coconut water?”

  I turned around, starting down the hall. “If you really want some…”

  He chuckled. “Oh, I want some.”

  “Coconut water, damn it.”

  “I know. I really like it. It’s my favorite.”

  I bit my lip hard to keep from laughing as he followed me to my front door. “I have half a mind to tell you to get your own coconut water.”

  “I could get my own, but I bet yours is better.”

  I opened my door, holding it open for him against my better judgment. “Careful, or you’ll end up drinking it alone.”

  “Got it.” He followed me inside, and I saw him looking around. “This is nice.”

  I sighed. “Nice is another word for
small.”

  “Big is overrated. It’s how you use it.”

  I thought of myself straddling him and how big and thick he would be under me. “Are we still talking about apartments?”

  He smiled slowly. “What do you think?”

  Something was happening inside me. “Do you still want that coconut water?”

  “Yeah, I do. I came all this way and everything.”

  I giggled to myself as I pulled two cartons from the fridge, then checked out my reflection in the microwave door before going back to the living room. Not, too bad. Not too bad at all. I found him sitting at the piano.

  “Do you play?” I asked, handing him a carton.

  “Not a note,” he admitted. “I was admiring the piano itself. It’s beautiful. Not to sound ancient or anything, but they don’t make them like this anymore.” He ran his hands over the keys—gently, soundlessly—then closed the lid. “It’s really nice.”

  “Thanks. It was my grandmother’s.”

  “Oh, really? You hauled it all the way up here?”

  “Whoever hauled it up here did it when she first moved in,” I corrected.

  “This was her apartment?”

  I nodded, looking around. “This was hers. Sort of my second home when I was growing up. She moved here after my grandfather died. He was still young. Hit by a car on his way out of the office one day.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  “It was really hard for her, even though my mom and aunt were grown up. Their house was too big for her to live in on her own, so she sold it and bought this place.”

  “And she gave it to you?” He rested his hands on the piano lid. “Along with this?”

  I nodded again. “It’s sort of all I have to my name, in a way. Actually, more than in a way. It’s all I have.”

  He opened his coconut water and took a long gulp. I had to laugh at the way he grimaced. “I fucking hate coconut water,” he admitted, shaking his head.

  “No kidding? You hide it so well.”

  “I keep telling myself I’m wrong about it since so many people like it. I have to be the one who’s wrong if it’s so popular.”

  “I feel that way about kale,” I admitted.

  “Oh, my God! I hate kale!”

  “I know! It’s disgusting.”

  “I thought it was just me.”

  “Me, too.”

  “So we’ve both been running and eating kale and drinking coconut water even though we don’t like it.”

  “I actually like coconut water,” I reminded him.

  “And I secretly like to run.”

  “Nobody’s perfect.”

  He chuckled, standing. “Thanks for this,” he murmured, holding up the carton.

  “You don’t even like it,” I reminded him.

  “Yeah, well, it was worth swallowing something disgusting if it meant I got to hang out with you for a minute.”

  I pressed my lips together. “I’ve been spending too much time with you,” I muttered, shaking my head in disgust.

  “Why do you say that?” he asked as he opened the door.

  “Because I just thought of a dirty joke to make there.”

  He paused, thought it over, then smiled before walking out into the hall. “You’re learning.”

  Mimi

  For some bizarre, unknown reason, I shaved my legs and bikini line with meticulous care on Tuesday evening. Then, even more inexplicably, I scrubbed my body with a sugar scrub until it glowed. After toweling myself dry, I rubbed my most expensive lavender scented cream into my skin.

  Then I chose two of the sexiest bits of cream silk and chocolate lace underwear I owned. The bra had a cute little red love-heart fastener in the front. I spent a long time over my hair too. Carefully putting it into big rollers and gently brushing it out so it fell in bouncy waves around my shoulders.

  I slipped into a simple dress because obviously, I didn’t want Max to think I had made any effort at all, and cream pumps. A lick of mascara and gloss and I was done. I wanted to look as if I’d just come from work, grabbed the first thing I saw in my wardrobe and put it on, and I think I succeeded. I looked at my phone. Five minutes to seven. I picked up the wine bottle I had bought by the neck and went to knock on Max’s door.

  It flung open suddenly, and Max filled the threshold. I didn’t think I would ever get used to his presence. His hair was a bit wild and his eyes showed definite signs of stress. There was also a strange smell coming from the interior of his home. I raised my eyebrows.

  “Everything all right?”

  “Sure. Come in.”

  I held out the wine bottle.

  “Thanks,” he said and took it from me distractedly. “Take a seat. I won’t be long. The food is nearly ready.”

  Ah, the source of the smell. I smiled and kept my voice happy. “What are we eating?”

  “Chicken.”

  I nodded. “Just chicken?”

  He frowned. “No. Of course not. There is a salad too.”

  “Oh great. I love chicken and salad.”

  “Can I get you a drink?”

  The smell was getting stronger. “Tell you what,” I said, cocking my head in the direction of the smell, “why don’t we go into the kitchen. You can open the bottle of wine and we can talk while you finish cooking.”

  He hesitated.

  “I love watching people cook,” I added with a big grin, and without waiting for him to answer strolled towards the kitchen. The place looked like a tornado had hit it. A far cry from the immaculate state I had always seen it in previously. Casually, I dusted some flour from a stool and took a seat at the island. “Maybe you should check on the state of your dish.”

  He walked to the oven, donned a pair of black oven gloves, and opened it. A cloud of smoke billowed out as he pulled out a tray of something, well, I had to assume it was food since he was cooking it; although it bore more resemblance to a very large blackened brick than a chicken. I looked at the rectangular charred thing sitting in the middle of the tray with a mixture of surprise. How many days had he been cooking it to burn it that badly?

  The smoke alarm went off. He ran and shook a magazine at it, while I got a window open. The alarm stopped after a couple of seconds and both of us gathered in front of the smoking tray.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Buffalo chicken break-away bread,” he said gloomily.

  There was a recipe book open on the island with a picture of Buffalo chicken break-away bread and I had to admit it looked delicious. “You shouldn’t have started with such an ambitious project,” I said softly.

  “Do you like Chinese?” he muttered.

  “Love it.”

  We called my favorite takeaway joint and I gave Mr. Chan our order.

  “You no want a double order of number eight and number sixty-six today?” he asked, surprised.

  He was referring to my usual double order of egg rolls, and his delicious fried bananas and ice cream dessert. Don’t get me wrong, I was tempted to add them to the order, but I glanced at Max, and he was looking at me with that look in his eyes. I remembered my nice underwear and said, “Not today, thanks, Mr. Chan.”

  I hung up and smiled at Max as he walked up to me with a glass of wine.

  “Thanks,” I said taking it from him. Our fingers brushed and, oh my, my stomach fluttered a little.

  He put on some music. Something foreign. I’d never heard it before. A woman was singing. Her voice was high enough to break glass. It must be an acquired taste. We sat next to each other on the soft leather sofa.

  “So, tell me, how long have we been seeing each other,” he said.

  I crinkled my nose. “How about three weeks ago?”

  He nodded. “So you were cheating on Josh and me?”

  I bit my lip. “Yes.”

  “Okay. Where did we meet?”

  “Let’s keep it simple. We met outside the elevator. You said ‘Hi’ and that was it. One thing led to another and boom.”
<
br />   “Boom,” he said softly, his eyes gleaming.

  “Boom,” I repeated, unable to pull my gaze away, mesmerized by the look on his face. His eyes emitted sparks of promise. I remembered how possessively his mouth had crushed mine and felt the heat between my legs. The room felt like it was spinning. Jesus, how much alcohol had I consumed?

  His phone rang. I dragged my eyes away from his and took a big gulp of my wine. He ignored his phone.

  “Don’t you want to take that call?”

  “Nope. What else do I need to know about you?”

  “I love shoes.”

  He nods. “I noticed.”

  “I run. We both run, obviously. I like my food, but I am constantly on a diet.”

  He frowns. “Why?”

  “You know why.”

  ‘No, I don’t. I think your figure is perfect. If anything, you could stand to gain a few pounds.”

  I couldn’t help it. I blushed. Oh God! This man sure knew how to say all the right things.

  Max

  The food arrived. We sat at the table and she looked like she couldn’t believe the message inside her fortune cookie.

  A closed mouth gathers no feet.

  She read it out reluctantly and I sniggered. Then I broke open my cookie and it was her turn to laugh.

  The greatest danger could be your stupidity.

  It made me smile to see her laugh. It kinda set the tone for the rest of dinner. We were both relaxed and the conversation was easy and spontaneous as we got to know one another. She was snarky and smart and I like that in a woman. There was always that sexual tension between us, but it was simmering below the belt. By the time dinner was over, I was buzzing just from her company. She moved and her dress rode up her thighs. She reached to pull it down, but my hands curled around hers.

  “I was enjoying the view, sexy,” I drawled, slow and soft.

  She licked her lips nervously, but she allowed me to put her hands away.

  “Show me,” I whispered.

  “What?” she whispered back, her blue eyes wide.