Kissing in Cars (Kiss and Make Up #1)(61)

I chuckle at that one. "Wow, she has quite the imagination."

"I'm not done yet," he says, and ticks off the suggestions on his fingers. "Declaring my love during the pep rally next week - which actually isn't a bad idea..."

Laughing I add, "Don't you dare!"

"What's the next best thing?" Weston asks, getting serious. "What's it going to take Molly for you to forget the shitty things I said?"

"It's not like I want this to be a big dramatic thing Wes. I just think you aren't ready to date anyone, and I... think I might be. Finally, you know? It's been four years of high school of me just watching from the outside, going on a few shitty dates and to dances with guys as 'just friends.' And I'm done doing that." I play with my straw. "In a few months we're going to be leaving for college. Imagine - all those parties. All those single guys..." I sigh dramatically and let my voice trail off and rest my chin in my elbow.

Am I being manipulative? Probably. But who's here to stop me? And besides, when I report all of this back to Jenna, the details better be juicy or I'm in deep shit. So I better make this good.

"Wait - what parties? What single guys?" he asks frowning. I wiggle my eyebrows at him, which makes him turn a deep shade of pink. "That's not f*cking funny Molly."

"Let's get real for a minute Weston. Not once did we discuss being exclusive, and not once did I call you my boyfriend or act like you suddenly were. So I don't get why you went into panic mode each time someone brought it up. Newsflash buddy! It was kind of insulting."

He has the decency to look embarrassed and stutters, "I'm...I'm..."

(I believe the word he's looking for here is sorry).

I let him squirm.

Tilting my head, I wait while he fumbles with his apology. "Molly. I'm an idiot. What do you want me to say? I'm eighteen and I've never had a girlfriend. I've been on one date - except that one with you. I've never bought anyone flowers, I've never had sex with anyone I care about, and I've never brought anyone home to meet my parents. I have no goddamn clue what I'm doing. Okay?" He stares at me. When I don't answer, he says again, "Okay?"

Not convinced, I purse my lips. "Yeah, but still...."

"There was one other thing Kendall mentioned doing that I think might work to get back into your good graces: a Grand Gesture." He leans back and puts his arms behind his head, thinking.

"Grand gesture? What did she mean by that?"

"You're asking me? Shit, I had to Google it." Suddenly, without warning, he stands up at the table, his whole body jostling the surface and causing everything on it to shake and clatter. Clearing his throat, Weston loudly says, "Excuse me, excuse me, can I have your attention?"

Besides his table of team mates, about five other people turn to stare at us.

Holy shit, he is not about to...

"Attention please," he repeats. While I'm horrified by what's about to happen, a sick part of me kind of wants to hear what he's about to say. He continues. "My name is Weston, and I've been a complete idiot."

His friends begin shouting in agreement - loud insults like 'Boo! Sit down douchebag' and 'McGrath is a pansy ass!' are being hurled at Weston as he stands, my personal favorite (yelled across the room by Rick) being 'Hey McGrath, your mommy called and wants her tampon back!'

I leap up and grab his arm to stop him. His strong... muscular...tanned... arm... "Oh my god, please sit down. I'm begging you." I hiss at him in a sharp whisper. He looks down at my hand on his arm and gives his head a quick shake.

"I have to do this Molly. For you."

Oh brother. Someone's obviously been knocked over the head with the dip stick.

Gag me.

There is, of course, nothing I can do but watch.





WESTON


"According to your own calculations, this is strike three. I say, if she's willing to give you yet another chance she's a real keeper. Now go be a man and prove to her why she should keep you around...you dipshit." - 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 its fold and working out the creases but 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 that 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 than 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 grumbling, "That's totally not true." Damn little sisters.