Kiss Me Not (Kiss Me 1)

“There’s always a catch to caffeine and carbs.” She sighed and took a seat on the other stool. “Lay it on me, shooting star.”

“I was named for a comet, not a shooting star.”

“Same difference.”

“Shooting stars don’t exist. They’re meteors. Stars don’t move, much less shoot.”

“Aren’t meteors comets?”

“Yes and no. They’re variations of the same thing. Meteors are meteoroids that hit our atmosphere, and that’s the shooting star you see. Hence the name meteor shower.”

“All right, Buzz Aldrin, settle down.”

“Remind me again why I came here to ask for your opinion?”

“Because mornings aren’t your friend.” Preston came out from the backroom, holding several bouquets of flowers in his arms.

It should have looked wrong. A six-foot-something man with wet hair and an untrimmed beard wearing sweatpant-type shorts and a faded Metallica t-shirt holding at least nine bouquets of flowers.

But it didn’t.

I was pretty sure he could roll around in a mud bath and look good.

It was unfair, really.

“Ugh. Are you still here?” Reagan asked, tearing her bagel in two. “I thought you left half an hour ago.”

“I did, but I came back because I forgot the flowers.” Preston rolled his eyes. “Who put Aunt Sue in charge of the booth today? She’s got fifty bouquets. These ten aren’t going to make a difference.”

“Mom did. She wanted a day off.”

“She’s a millionaire. Is Aunt Sue really all she can afford?”

“She’d hire you, but you’re too busy whoring your mouth out for charity this week.” Reagan glanced my way. “No offense.”

I picked up my coffee. “No, it sounded like a compliment.”

Preston snorted. “I’m doing my bit for charity.”

“Right. I thought you’d pull a Magic Mike, but whatever.” Reagan tore off a bite of her bagel. “Are you done here now?” she asked around a mouthful of it.

He held up one bouquet. “Done. I won’t bother you today, you old curmudgeon.”

“You’re hilarious.”

“I know. It’s one of my better qualities, don’t you think, Halley?”

Calmly, I broke part of my bagel in two. “I’ve never paid attention to them, if I’m honest.”

“I’ll make sure I show them to you tonight, then.” Preston winked and, turning, left the store while I choked on the piece of bagel I’d just shoved in my mouth.

Reagan froze. “What does that mean?”

“We’re going out!” Preston shouted as he pulled the door open, making the bell ding really loudly.

I stood, slapping my hands on the counter, almost spilling my coffee. “It’s not a date!”

His laughter was cut off by the door slamming shut behind him.

I looked at Reagan. “It’s not a date.”

“You’re gonna have to back up. I feel like I’m missing a lot.”

I sighed and sat back down again. “You are. I think. I don’t know. I tried telling Boris last night, but he really wasn’t that interested.”

“That’s because he’s a raccoon. He uses you for your sandwiches, Halley.”

“Whatever. Basically, Preston kissed me last night.”

Reagan’s eyes widened. A moment later, she squealed and grabbed me, yanking me off the stool and almost sending me tumbling into the glass unit that was standing against the wall.

“Wow. Okay. Calm down.” The laugh that escaped me was a nervous one. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” Her eyebrows show up. “Are you forgetting the part where you’ve had a crush on him for years?”

“No. Funnily enough, I can’t forget about that,” I replied dryly. “I won the bet yesterday, which meant he had to kiss me. My dad showed up which delayed the entire winning process, and I couldn’t really gloat. Anyway,” I said before I went on a tangent. “He went to kiss me, and I really, really thought he was going to, but he didn’t. He kissed my cheek and tried saying that whoever won today would have to kiss properly.”

“So how did you end up kissing him?”

“I asked him what the hell he was doing, making a girl think she was being kissed when it wasn’t going to happen. I might have been a little… angrier… than I’d been aiming for, but he grabbed me as I was leaving and kissed me.”

“Damn. I didn’t know he had that in him.”

“Neither did I.”

“So what’s the date that’s not a date tonight? How did that happen?”

I sighed. “We texted for a bit last night, and he wore me down. But it’s not a date. It’s just two people who kissed, spending time together.”

“That’s a date, Halley.”

“It’s not a date!”

Reagan threw the paper bag her bagel had been in into the trashcan. “No, it’s a date. You can say what you want, but it is.”

I pursed my lips. I didn’t want to call it a date, because that meant this was really happening. I had to accept that Preston was interested in me, and that meant I could get hurt. It meant I had to open myself up to getting hurt.

I didn’t want to get hurt.