Kissing in Cars (Kiss and Make Up #1)(31)

"What are you thinking about right now?" Weston's voice breaks the silence, and it's so random I throw my head back and laugh. The sound echoes off the walls in the hollow cavernous room, and I have to admit that even to my own ears it sound throaty and kind of....erotic.

"I thought guys hated that question. That's right up there with 'do these jeans make me look fat."

"Yeah, I guess I never got that memo. Maybe I shouldn't have asked." Then he gives me a sideways glance. "So...."

"Oh okay - You want me to play along, I see. What am I thinking about...what am I thinking about...." I tap on my chin, pretending to ponder my answer. "Well, I was thinking about how the jellyfish look like floating ballerinas." I laugh again at his scrunched up expression. "Does that satisfy your curiosity?"

"Well, no, actually. That answer sucked."

"Did it leave you unfulfilled," I tease.

"Uh, yeah it did."

My mom and I always say we're 'unfulfilled' when we spend a whole day shopping and leave a mall without having purchased anything fun. I remember this one time, we spent an entire day going to garage sales, and all I spent was six dollars on an old chandelier I spray painted for my bedroom, and two bucks on a pair of jeans. Ugh, did I feel empty inside that day. I chuckle at my own fond memory.

We're quiet for a bit in companionable silence, then I murmur "It's so peaceful here. Thank you for bringing me." I'm tempted to lay my head on his shoulder but can't dig deep enough to gather up the courage. Instead, our eyes stay glued to the blue glowing jellyfish that pulse and float in front of us... up... then down... up...then down... slowly and languishing like a lullaby. Watching them is spell bounding, and I can see how it would be therapeutic.

A person could remain here all day.

Soon, we're back to quietly talking in hushed tones - maybe it's just us, but the atmosphere just makes you want to whisper. We talk about his sister Kendall and he tells me about the sister he lost when she was young, Zoe, who lost a battle to childhood Leukemia almost five years earlier at the tender age of seven. Zoe, the one name tattooed on his arm.

We talk about hockey. Soccer. Travelling. I tell him about my job, and am shocked to discover he's never had one because he's never had the time. He reveals his love of the Harry Potter series (mindless books he doesn't have to think too much about while reading), and I blush and stutter through telling him my favorite genre is teen romance.

How embarrassing.

We sit there while the minutes fly by like we're the only two people in the room, when around the corner comes a young couple. Maybe just a few years older than Weston and I, they slowly walk over to the Moon Jellyfish exhibit and stand directly in front of the tank. Well, directly in front of us, actually. They're both dressed very casually in jeans, but there is chemistry between them that has me guessing they're on a date. Okay, I don't have to guess: it's pretty obvious.

"Really, that's where they're going to stand?" Weston deadpans from the side of his mouth, gesturing to the couple with his hand. Because he's almost whispering and there's music filtering through the room, I lean in a little closer to hear what he's saying and catch a whiff of his cologne. My eyes flit to the 'V' of his polo shirt and I glace at the exposed hollow of his throat.

Drool.

"No kidding! What's that all about?" I complain. "There's a whole room full of these things. Go over there." I point to a spot further down.

He lets out a sigh. "Well, I suppose we could head out. We have been here for over two hours..."

"Plus, there is that forty-five minute drive home...." I point out, trying to be helpful.

Weston thinks for a few seconds, and then, "Or...we could stop for ice cream?"

"Yes!" Oh shit, did that sound too eager or desperate? "Fantastic idea."

Best. Idea. Ever.

I knew there was a reason I liked him.





WESTON


"What are you getting?"

I look down into the freezer of ice cream, than back up at the menu board hanging on the back wall behind the counter of the ice cream shop. It's a 50's themed diner with a soda fountain, and the kid behind the counter is wearing a white smock, candy cane stripped shirt and a disposable paper hat. Based on the nametag pinned to his ice cream smock his name is Scott, and now I feel bad for him because he looks like a f*cking douchebag. He's probably what, 17? We actually drove almost all the way back to River Glen before stopping so we wouldn't have such a hike after our treat, and technically we're just in the next town over. So now we can take our time.

"I think I know what I want, but ladies first." I plant my elbow on the counter and lean back on it so I'm granted a frontal view as Molly stares up at the menu board, biting her lower lip.

Nonchalantly (at least I think so anyway) I look her up and down. She's got on these high shoes on that tie around her slender ankles and the toes peeking through are painted a bright shade of pink. I was never one for feet, but hers are pretty damn sexy.

"Hmmm..." She hums with indecision. "I'll...have...." Her head tips to the side, and it's so endearing I can't help but smile. She catches me and chides, "Stop doing that."

"Doing what?"