Chapter 29 Santa Monica Pier
I’m momentarily stunned into silence. “Are you only asking because I called you out?”
Reed shakes his head. “I like that you called me out, but I’m asking because I want to spend more time with you. I have a wedding on Saturday. I would love to take you.”
I huff a laugh. “You’re asking me to be your plus-one? Three days before?”
“My buddy’s getting married. I texted him to ask if I could bring you while you were in the shower.”
My brows pull together. “You did?”
“I did.”
“And?”
“They’ve had a couple last-minute cancellations. He said yes.”
“I . . .” I blink out at the darkness, trying to consider this logically. I have twelve more jumps. He cocks his head as I meet his eyes. “Can I think about it?”
The right side of Reed’s mouth tips up. “Of course.”
I nod, staring at my hands.
“Rikki. I don’t want to be Commitment Issues Guy. I’m ready to shed that skin. That’s why I suggested the pact. Because I like you. And I wanted to do something about it.”
I swallow nervously. “What guy you shooting for now?”
I hear his hands slide down the steering wheel. “Enacting Intentional Change Guy? Making Intentional Dating Decisions Guy? Still working on the branding.”
I look over at him, a smile teasing at my lips. He’s staring at the dashboard.
“My therapist used to periodically ask this one ‘would you rather?’” he says quietly.
“Would you rather go on first dates with new people for the rest of your life or marry someone you’ve already been on a date with and stay with them for the rest of your time.
From age twenty-four to twenty-nine, I instantly chose first dates.
It’s really depressing, thinking about that now. ”
“Yeah, the answer’s obviously marry, dating’s the absolute worst.”
He snorts and glances over at me. “Dating you is not so bad.”
I roll my eyes. “Shut up.”
He grins. “No.”
Take a picture with him on Santa Monica Pier.
The demand floats across my vision like I have my own personal built-in mental stock ticker.
He asked me to go to a wedding. Those are full of pictures. This shouldn’t be weird. It’s not a big deal.
Well, it is a big deal. But by inviting me to a wedding he’s saying he’s cool with the deal.
Reed threads our fingers together as we cross the parking lot.
“We’re holding hands?” I ask.
His brow furrows. “Does this count as sex?”
I laugh. “No.”
“Then yes, we’re holding hands.”
The sandals I’ve borrowed from Reed’s mom flap against the ground as we make our way toward the old wooden staircase that leads up to the pier.
Once we reach the top we hang a left, approaching the SoCal landmark in all its nostalgic nighttime glory: the lights, the rides, the dumb carnival games.
Foot traffic is light, being that it’s 10:30 p.m. on a weekday.
Teenagers and young couples line the railings that trace the perimeter, gazing out at the dark expanse of ocean surrounding the oversize dock.
I tug Reed along until I find a gap in the crowd under a curved lamppost and pull us over.
“All right,” I say. “This is my stop.”
“Here?” He grins. “We’re not going to go hunt down your cousin?”
“No, I don’t need you to linger around with me.
You need to get back to your mom while she’s there.
I’m pretty sure I heard something that sounded a lot like Catching Fire upstairs as we were leaving.
You should join movie night. I know how hard it is to find quality time with the fam when they live on the other side of the country. ”
Reed’s face softens. “Are you sure you’re gonna be okay?”
I let go of his hand and hold out my palm expectantly. “Give me your phone.”
“Is this a mugging situation?”
I snicker as he unsheathes it from his pocket and hands it over.
“Pass is 8844,” he says.
“Don’t give your mugger your password, Reed!”
Reed’s mouth rolls up his cheek into the knot. “Just trying to work on my flaws.”
I glare up at him playfully before tapping open his iPhone camera. I set it to 0.5x, flip on the flash, and position it in front of us, angling it above our heads. The screen’s facing away so I can’t see the framing, but I’m confident we’re both in the shot. I cut him a serious look. “Don’t smile.”
He chuckles, and I snap the picture.
Relief barrels through me.
“Want me to take it?” A random reaches for the phone from my hand.
“Yeah, why not?” Reed answers before I have the wherewithal to protest.
Reed shoots me a wry grin as he plucks the phone from my hand, transfers it to a random tourist guy, and poses next to me. The flash goes off.
I’m a deer in the headlights as I turn back to him.
“Got it, now kiss.”
I chortle, about to lecture this random on decorum, when Reed catches my hip and effortlessly twists me in his direction so we’re face-to-face. He catches a spot under my chin and tilts my mouth to his.
A glimmering wave of energy ripples through me as our mouths meet again.
The sensation validates every irritating moment I’ve spent pining for this man over the past three weeks.
See, this just isn’t a typical body response to a— His hands snake under the trench, pressing into my lower back.
His hot tongue flicks against my lips, and I give in to this new, ever-growing craving for him.
For his mouth. His touch. His left hand runs down my left thigh, latches behind my knee.
I gasp against his lips as he hitches the leg up over his hip, pulling me flush against his pelvis.
My fingers tangle in the collar of his shirt to stay upright as the kiss expands.
Heat races up my spine. His hand tightens around my calf, tugging me harder against his center—
“Fuck yeaaaah!”
Our photographer’s voice snaps against my skull like a weaponized rubber band.
I resurface shakily, pulling away from Reed, dropping my leg—disoriented. Intellectually obliterated as Reed thanks the man and reclaims his phone.
When he turns back to me, I’m gawking through a dumbstruck open smile. “What the hell was that?”
He points his phone at me and snaps a picture, the flash making colors explode behind my eyes.
“Reed! I wasn’t even doing anything!” I rack my brain for some sort of cute sexy pose and draw a complete blank before panic popping my hip and biting my pinkie finger between my teeth as the flash snaps again. “Oh god, wait, I don’t know what I just did with myself.”
He lowers the phone, grinning as he walks backward toward the steps we entered from. “See you at the airport, Renee.”
I laugh. “Reed, wait! Your trench.”
“Hold on to it. I’ll text you the details for this weekend.”
“I haven’t said I’ll come yet!”
“Do you want to come?” he says from the top of the steps.
I throw my hands up and let them fall. “Yes, I want to come! Do you want me to come?”
His smile widens. “Renee, I sent you a heart emoticon.”
We’re just yelling across twenty feet of dead air now. “Yeah but—”
“You’re wearing my trench!”
“But—”
He cups his hands around his mouth and shouts, “I have a giant fucking crush on you.”
I laugh as another gush of iridescence hurtles through me. “Okay!”
He beams. “Okay!”
“I have a giant crush on you too!”
He salutes me before spinning around and heading down the steps.