Chapter 4
Chapter Four
BOWEN
Another couple jogged up. So we stood. Velvet’s sandals scuffed against the sidewalk as she hurried over to me.
I stuffed my hands into my pockets. “What’s next on the list?”
She gritted her teeth. “I’m embarrassed to say.”
I stepped closer to read over her shoulder. “Oh, dang,” I blurted. “You smell good.” She did. Like rainwater and something sharp—maybe citrus, peeled fresh and fast.
“It’s my shampoo.” She leaned in, her shoulder digging into my chest. “You smell good too.”
“Aftershave,” I murmured, a little tipsy off being so close.
She pointed to number four. “I promise I did not make this up.”
4. Take a picture in a compromising position*
I dragged a hand down my face. “They’re asking for it.”
She giggled and pointed to the asterisk at the bottom of the sheet.
*Nude pictures will get you immediately disqualified.
“Well, that’s a relief.” I chuckled, relaxing. But then I saw the final clue and my nerves cranked right back up.
5. Seal the deal with a kiss. Bonus points if there’s a little swoon in the shot.
The anticipation of kissing her made my lungs seize. Deep breath. “Compromising position, huh? What do you suggest?”
“I have an idea.” She side-eyed me. “Can I trust you to go with me back to my apartment?”
“Yes. Scout’s honor.” I held up the three-finger salute. “Can I trust you to take me back to your apartment?”
“Yes. But I was never a scout, so this is all I’ve got for you.” She gave me a peace sign. Which fit. I was feeling peace. So much peace. “Also, just know that I have a canister of pepper spray.” She patted her purse. “And I’m not afraid to use it.”
I took a large, dramatic step away from her. “Got it.”
She reached out, hooked one finger through my belt loop, and yanked me to her.
“Is that right?” I murmured.
A flush crept up her neck but she held my gaze, unafraid. “Yep.”
Ten minutes later, we were kneeling in a small two-bedroom apartment with the tiniest living room I’d ever seen. It was barely big enough for the Twister mat she spread across the floor.
“Can we play with only two people?” I tugged a corner flat.
She was on her knees, facing me, smoothing out a crease. “You can.” She grabbed her phone off the couch and held it up to show that she had a spinner downloaded.
“Oh, I see how it is,” I teased. “You bring all your dates back here for a seductive game of competitive yoga.” I clicked my tongue. “And here I was feeling special.”
She snorted—like a pig. Then clamped a hand over her mouth. It was adorable. “I downloaded it while we were walking.” Her gaze turned molten. “You’re my first.”
Good. Gracious.
“I guess it’ll be a first for both of us,” I said, matching her energy. Dang. I was good at dating a college girl. Really good.
“Guess so.” She tapped the screen. “Okay. I’ve got it set to auto-spin every fifteen seconds. You’re up first. Left hand on blue.”
I found my spot.
Three minutes later, I was contorted like a pretzel, about to lose an arm, and she was draped across my chest like a cozy blanket.
I could’ve held the pose—my family owned a huge gym back home and I worked out four times a week.
But the real test was her eyes, locked on my mouth. She was counting down. Just like me.
“Let’s get the money shot.” She struggled to reach her phone.
With the picture taken, there was nothing between us and number five.
I should’ve felt awkward, knowing I was about to kiss a college girl. Who didn’t know I wasn’t a college guy quite yet. But I didn’t. I felt weirdly confident. And ready. Like I could not wait to hold her in my arms. To see if kissing her was as epic as I thought it would be.
So instead of unwinding from the pose and making things weird by planning out the kiss, I pretended to slip, and took her down with me.
It worked like I wanted it to, and she ended up in my lap, laughing until she shook.
It was the best sound I’d heard in forever—free and honest, and bubbling out of her like she couldn’t have contained it if she tried. I loved that I was the reason for it.
I slid my arms around her waist and tipped my forehead to hers.
She went stiff. Could I blame her? She was alone in her apartment with a guy she barely knew and I was closing the distance fast. So I just stayed there, hands on her ribcage, feeling her inhale and exhale beneath my palms, letting her set the pace.
A few seconds later, she relaxed against me. “This has been…” she said, her voice barely a tiptoe.
“Yeah,” I whispered.
Her hands moved to my shoulders, her thumbs making soft circles against my shirt. “I like you, 167.”
There was no way she couldn’t feel my heart working like pistons, firing so hard my whole body thrummed with need. A need to kiss her, yes. But it was more than that. I needed to see her tomorrow. And the next day. And the next. But I couldn’t say that, so I just said, “I like you, too. A lot.”
Her fingers glided over my cheeks. “Si c’est ca que ressent la serendipity, alors je suis croyante,” she repeated, her nose brushing mine. “It means, if this is what serendipity feels like, then I'm a believer.”
“I can’t top that,” I breathed. “So just…same.”
Her hands curled around my neck, and her head tilted, ready.
Now that we were here, I took a beat. You only get one first kiss, and I didn’t want to rush it.
Wanted to get it exactly right. My hand slid over her knee and up her thigh until it reached the hem of her skirt.
Goosebumps sprang up under my fingertips.
There was something I had to get out. Something I’d wanted to say all night.
I blew out my breath and went for it. “You probably shouldn’t wear miniskirts around me anymore. ” I was committed now.
“Why?” she murmured, and it lit up my gut like a bonfire.
“Because…” My nose nuzzled hers. “You have the best legs I’ve ever seen. And you made it very hard to focus tonight. Very, very hard.”
“The best legs you’ve ever seen?” she asked, like I was full of it. “Ever?”
“Ever,” I whispered. “Give me a lie detector test if you want.”
She studied me, pupils blown, lips parted. “Okay,” she rasped in surrender. Her fingers dug into my shoulders like she might fall out of my lap if she didn't hang on. “If you’re going to kiss me, you better hurry. I’m two seconds from disintegrating.”
“Well. We can’t have that. Can we?” My hands slipped up her sides. Lips only a millimeter apart, I leaned in and—
WEE-OOO, WEE-OOO, WEE-OOO, her phone rang. Actually, it blared—a fire engine ringtone that could not have been louder or more annoying.
We smacked noses. Hard.
Ouch.
She scrambled off my lap like she’d touched an electric fence, grabbing her phone with shaky fingers. With one frantic swipe, the blaring stopped—she practically hurled it onto the couch like it might bite her.
She pressed her hands to her flaming cheeks. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
I nodded, but there was pressure building between my eyes. “Fine,” I lied.
“Do you think that was serendipity trying to tell us something?”
“Definitely not.” I rubbed my nose. Except to silence our cell phones.
Her chest heaved. “Okay. But…can I have a minute? I need to use the restroom.”
I nodded. “Of course.”
“Be right back.”
Once the bathroom door was shut and she turned on a ceiling vent that sounded like it was chewing through scrap metal, I fell back onto the Twister mat, every nerve buzzing, nose throbbing.
A framed picture of her and another girl I suspected was Foot Cop—a petite brunette who had the eyes of someone who would destroy a man over his hairy feet—smiled from a shelf above me.
I stood to study it. But then Velvet’s phone blared with that annoying fire engine ringtone again.
WEE-OOO, WEE-OOO, WEE-OOO. I reached down to lower the volume…
And my blood ran cold. Because the contact picture of the person calling was none other than…
My older brother Griffin.
I hit end call and dropped it on the couch like he might punch through the screen and throttle me. Why was Griffin calling Velvet? How did they even know each other? And why were they close enough that she knew his ringtone should be a fire engine horn?
Wait.
All summer, Griffin had been going on and on about a girl he volunteered with at the rescue squad. A blond girl.
With a bob.
Who was fluent in two languages besides English.
And loved ramen.
And was pre-med at…UVA.
Maggie somebody or other? I pressed a fist to my forehead, trying to remember.
I vaguely recalled him saying Maggie was short for something.
Griff had been trying to get her to go out with him, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to date a Dupree.
Also, she was afraid of falling for him when they were both heading back to different colleges in a month.
I strode across the tiny room, eyes wild, searching for something with her name on it. There was a basket on the counter full of mail.
I rifled through the envelopes. “Abilene Carter,” I hissed.“Abilene Carter. Abilene Carter. Abilene Carter.” I almost exhaled with relief.
But then I flipped the last one over.
“Magnolia Hollis.”
I dropped the bills like they’d burned me and tried to breathe through the disappointment. Velvet was Griffin’s Maggie. “You have got to be freaking kidding me.”
Serendipity?
More like a cosmic kick to the teeth.
Then, as if I was stuck inside a fire drill from hell—at the same time, the toilet flushed and her phone started bellowing again—WEE-OOO, WEE-OOO, WEE-OOO!
Maybe in some alternate universe, I would’ve stayed. Would’ve fought for her. Would’ve told Griffin to suck it and given her the chance to choose.
But I, Bowen Davis Dupree, lived in this universe. Where what I wanted didn’t matter. Where if Griffin liked a girl, I’d choke on my feelings till it killed me.
I yanked the door open, gave the Twister mat one last longing glance, and got myself the heck out of there.