A Kiss Like This (Kiss and Make Up #3)(71)

“Dude. If you’re gonna get all girly and weird, I’m gonna split.” He throws me a sullen frown. “Peace out.”

Lost in my own thoughts, I barely hear his retreat, his shoes crunching on the loose concrete driveway.

An uncomfortable knot forms in the pit of my stomach as some of Caleb’s pleading words came back to haunt me: “Please, I tried. Don’t be pissed at me,” he’d implored, standing in his bedroom, looking as lost as I’d felt. Then I remember him dragging me outside when Stephan and Weston had started to fight at the rental cabin when we’d been at the waterpark. “Not a fan of conflict, are you?” I’d asked him in private. “No. Not at all, and not this kind of conflict. It gets too… ugly.” He’d paused. “I don’t mind a brawl on the ice, but that swagger bullshit going on inside? No thanks.”

He hates confrontation, and that’s exactly what I’ve given him, because I was embarrassed and horrified. Not ten seconds after we’d had sex, his friends busted into the room. They have no respect for his hard work around the house, his privacy, and certainly none for me.

And don’t even get me started on how they constantly mock him for being an introvert. And he lets them, like being quiet and observant is a bad thing

Stupid jerks.

I huff loudly, banging through the kitchen door to my house. Why the heck should I be the one feeling guilty? I mean, come on, he is the one who took my ring—and virginity—and didn’t give it back.

What was he doing with it, anyway? Carrying it around in his pocket? Shaking my head as I shove my bedroom door open, I toss myself across the bed, kick off my shoes, and let my feet dangle off the end.

He must have been, because one minute the dresser top had been empty, and the next… he’d emptied his pockets.

But… why? Why was he holding on to it? Why didn’t he just give it back when he had the chance?

It just doesn’t make sense.





***

Cecelia: I don’t know if you recall, but Matthew picked a fight with me about blowies before we started officially dating. Remember?

Abby: Kind of, but not really.

Cecelia: He told me blow jobs were non-negotiable. And I said I didn’t do those, so he broke it off with me. My point is: Guys are CLUELESS. 99.99% of them. And if you don’t cut them some slack for being dipshits… then you’re in for a lot of grief.

Abby: I guess…

Cecelia: I just don’t think what he did is that big a deal. He’s socially awkward, you said so yourself. I personally think you’re punishing both of you for one little screw up.

Abby: So what do I do????

Cecelia: Well, first you give it some time. Give YOU some time. You’ve never had a boyfriend, so it’s normal to feel confused. So. Time. And then… everything will fall into place.

Abby: I hope you’re right.

Cecelia: Trust me.





CHAPTER 28

Caleb

“So, let me get this straight. You find a ring she lost in our yard and don’t give it back?”

I snap my head up at Weston’s words and narrow my eyes as he coolly pops a cashew into mouth. “Who told you?”

“Who do you think? Abby cried to Jenna, Jenna told Molly, and Molly told me.” Unapologetically, he tips his head back and takes a swig of beer, not realizing my insides are in turmoil after his pronouncement.

“And who did you tell?” It’s more words strung together than I’ve spoken to anyone in hours, wallowing in self-loathing as I’ve been.

“Just me,” Cubby chimes in from the barstool from my other side. At his declaration, I shoot him a murderous look and he holds his hands up in mock surrender. “What! I overheard parts of his conversation with Molly. Swear it was an accident. Okay, so I might have been—”

“So anyway,” Weston interrupts, giving Cubby a shut the hell up look. “Is that what happened? You kept her ring?”

“Pretty much.” I’m hunched over a pilsner glass of beer after they dragged me to Lone Rangers with the intention of cheering me up. “Did she tell Jenna… everything?”

Weston has the decency to look chagrined. “About the sex and stuff? Unfortunately, yeah. She gave Jenna an earful.” He rests a large hand on my shoulder and bears down. “Sorry, man. I know how much you like her.”

Not as sorry as I am.

Feeling left out, Cubby opens his mouth again. “Women,” he grumbles, sounding repulsed. “I’ll bang ‘em, but I’ll never understand them. Speaking of banging, I kind of assumed Walk of Shame was a goody-goody. Girls like her make you wait—at the very least—the cursory five-date minimum before letting you slice that pie. Props for popping that cherry, bro.”

“Hey, watch it,” Weston quietly warns.

Cubby soldiers on, unfazed. “And then she flipped her shit?”

“Pretty much.” Dejected, I peel at the label on my beer bottle.

“She found the ring after you f*cked her?” More from Cubby.

“Dude, enough already,” Weston hisses. “What the hell is wrong with your filter, man?” He’s quiet for a few seconds, thinking, finally letting out a low whistle. “Molly would have my ass if I did something stupid like that. And let’s be honest, I’m always doing stupid shit like that!”