– Brian McGrath
Now everyone in the entire place is staring. Granted, there aren’t all that many people here to begin with, thank God, but still. From the corner of my eye, I can see Rick punch someone in the arm, and I hear a loud, staged shush from somewhere in the room. Undaunted, I reach into my pocket and pull out a crinkled sheet of paper, carefully opening it and working out the creases by running it over my knee a few times. If you’re thinking to yourself, Wow, this dude is prepared. I bet he was a Boy Scout, you’d be wrong. Good guess though.
Clearing my throat in a now silent restaurant dining room, I begin reading the letter Kendall has prepared. “Dear Molly, I am writing this so you will give my brother another chance, even though he keeps saying some really dumb stuff. Please don’t blame him. He gets hit in the face a lot with hockey sticks.” I look down at Molly then over at my friends, who are cackling and falling over each other with laughter. Lee Bricker is rolling around on the floor as I continue. “Not only that, I’m pretty sure most of his teeth are fake. Wait. What?”
Shit, maybe I should have read this before I started reading it. I glance at Molly and grumble, “That’s totally not true.” Damn little sisters.
I continue.
“But no matter what he said or did to make you mad, you should know that he really likes you. And even though one time he ate an entire batch of cookies my mom made for my birthday party at school—gee, thanks, Kendall—he’s the best brother a girl could have. And he wants you to be his girlfriend, even if he won’t say it, because he’s a boy, and we all know that boys are, well, dumb.”
Everyone is laughing—some hysterically—and clapping as I finish the letter and begin folding it back up into a neat little square. Before I can stick it back in my pocket, Molly reaches for it.
“Please, can I have that?” Her eyes are smiling, even if her mouth is in a serious straight line.
“What are you planning on doing? Burning it in a bonfire pit?”
She smirks. “Maybe, maybe not.”
I hold it out but snatch it back before she can take hold of it. “I’ll only give this to you if you promise you’re going to put it under your pillow.”
Inwardly I groan at how stupid it sounds when I’m trying to be slick, and Molly rolls her eyes heavenward. “Why? Is the tooth fairy gonna come?”
“More like the boyfriend fairy,” I snicker slyly.
From across the room, my friends are shouting, “Dude, we can hear you!” and “You sound like a fucking idiot!” Not to be outdone, Gavin Woznuski is chanting “Douche!” over and over, banging on the table with his fists.
“Please ignore them,” I say grimly as my face gets warm from the blush creeping up my neck.
“Hmmm, I don’t know. They are pretty hard to ignore,” Molly muses, tapping her chin in thought.
* * *
Molly
Before I’m even close to finishing my next thought, Weston grabs my hand in front of everyone, half-dragging me across the restaurant until we are in the parking lot, leaning against my car.
The street lights above us flicker as they struggle to turn on, and Weston hovers over me. He taps on the back window of my Jeep. “That back seat is looking mighty good to me right now…” His voice trails off suggestively.
I glance over his shoulder and take in our audience. His friends have their faces practically pressed against the glass of Kyoto. Rick is blowing on the glass, puffing his cheeks up and completely disgusting me in the process.
I roll my eyes at his suggestion and laugh. “Even without an audience, you sound awfully confident for someone who was groveling not ten minutes ago.” Still, the idea of kissing him in the car has merit, and old habits die hard as I begin playing with the collar of his worn T-shirt. Pulling at a loose thread and letting the tip of my finger stroke the smooth skin above his collar, Weston groans and buries his face in my hair.
He inhales deeply and lets out a breath. “I missed you.”
“Good.”
He pulls back sharply to look at me. “What the hell!”
“Well, I want you to remember that feeling next time you run your mouth off to other people. Seriously, Jenna was about to come castrate you.”
Weston leans forward and kisses my collarbone, muttering, “Castration isn’t very nice.”
“No, but at least she’s got my back.”
“I’d like to get you on your back…”
“Hey! I haven’t said I’m giving you another chance.” I pull a straight face and tip my chin up defiantly.
“Babe, please. I promise I won’t run away like a chicken shit again. I just need you to know that I’m an asshole, and that’s probably not going go to change…I mean, look at my dad. Hello.”