A Kiss Like This (Kiss and Make Up #3)(55)

“Mom!” I shush her, horrified. “Stop. Jesus, she could come back any minute and hear you.”

“Fine, I’ll behave.” My mom has the decency to look shamefaced. Sort of. Okay, not really. “I’m just so happy! My little boy finally likes a girl!”





Abby

After a lot of shuffling around, I end up sitting sandwiched between Jenna and Caleb, his mom and dad on one end of the table, Molly and Weston at the other, while Cubby, Stephan, Blaze and Shelby sit across from us.

It’s not long before the table is covered with appetizers—eight plates in all—and everyone is digging in, the waitress making her rounds and taking everyone’s dinner order.

So far, so good.

That is, until…

Yup. Someone is definitely rubbing their foot clumsily up and down my leg, the rubber sole of a running shoe digging into my calf. As the foot grazes my shin, I look up, immediately fixating my gaze on Caleb, who has his head bent, eyes moving across the menu, elbows resting on the table in front of him.

Nope, not him.

My brow furrows, and I arch my back to get a quick look under the table. “Cubby, are you playing footsie with me?” I ask as quietly as I can across the table and bite my lip nervously. He doesn’t hear me, so I ask again. “Psst. Cubby.” I glance over at Caleb anxiously. “Are you playing footsie with me?” I half-mouth and half-pantomime this last part.

“No! I’m playing footsie with her,” he replies at the top of his lungs, pointing at Jenna with his meaty middle finger.

My roommate laughs. “No, doofus, you have the wrong foot.”

Cubby looks under the table. “Whoops. Sorry.”

He certainly doesn’t look sorry.

“I want to play footsie!” Blaze teases, putting his arm around Shelby and planting a kiss on her blonde temple.

Molly chimes in, “I remember once, when Cecelia came to dinner at my parent’s house, Matthew tried playing footsie under the table with her but ended up rubbing my leg instead.” She takes a sip of water. “He was so embarrassed. To this day he still won’t admit it was him.”

“If he wouldn’t admit it was him, who does he say that it was?” Shelby wants to know.

Molly shrugs. “He just pretends it never happened. But I’m telling you, his foot was up my pant leg. I thought I was going to gag when I realized he had his shoe off. Cecelia was horrified. Of course, that was when they hated each other.”

“Didn’t take long for that train to derail,” Weston says with a laugh as the waitress comes to take our food order. She lingers over Weston, pen poised above her notepad, smiling down at him with stars in her eyes as he continues. “Two months later they’re shacking up. Who would have thought that douche canoe would be domesticated?”

I remember Cece texting that night, both horrified and delighted that Matthew was finally starting to put the moves on her. And, although my best friend wouldn’t admit it—not to herself or anyone else—she had already fallen for Molly’s brother at that point.

“So, Abby, tell us more about yourself,” Mrs. Lockhart—Wendy—says after closing her menu, ordering, then handing the menu to the waitress. “How did you and Caleb meet?”

I clear my throat, readjust the napkin on my lap, and clear my throat again. The waitress catches my eye from across the table and her brows raise. Is she waiting for my answer to Mrs. Lockhart’s question, or for my dinner order? I’m not quite sure.

“How did we meet?” I ask, glancing over at Caleb. He’s blushing too, and he’s staring holes into his napkin. Great. No help there. “We met, uh… How we met. Um.”

Rob Lockhart tilts his head and studies me as I struggle to string together a perfectly normal sentence, like a normal human being, and my palms begin to sweat. Profusely.

I mean, I can’t very well tell him I met his son when I climbed out the window of the neighboring fraternity house. He’ll think I’m a… a… slut. Or a puck bunny, or whatever it is they call those girls who chase hockey players for the popularity.

“They met when she climbed out the second story window of the shithole next door.”

At this pronouncement, all eyes go wide and everyone gapes at Blaze as he innocently pops a loaded tortilla chip from the appetizer platter into his mouth, chewing and gazing up at the ceiling.

Jenna swallows her water too hard and begins coughing. “Was.” Cough. “Not.” Cough. “Expecting.” Cough. “That.”

Wendy and Rob hesitate for a second, but then both start laughing. Maybe I’m being hypersensitive right now, because I’m not quite sure if it’s regular or laughter of the uneasy variety. The kind of fake laugh you push out when you’re hoping for the best, but expecting the worst.

Laughing, laughing, laughter.

Oh god. I’m hysterical. Someone slap me.

“Good one, Blaze,” Mr. Lockhart says with a chuckle, his eyes crinkling at the corner. It’s not really a smile, but it’s good-humored.

Caleb stiffens beside me as Blaze winks at us, popping another chip into his mouth, watching me with those hooded green eyes as he chews. It’s unsettling and unguarded, but also hard with an underlying meaning, almost like he’s challenging me to tell the truth.