Bittersweet by Carmen Jenner & Lauren K. McKellar

Author:Carmen Jenner & Lauren K. McKellar [Jenner, Carmen & McKellar, Lauren K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-04-30T16:00:00+00:00

Later, as we leave the restaurant, Marc grabs my hand and pulls me close. I’m startled, so I sort of wind up whacking him in the thigh in an attempt to get free.

He laughs. “Geez, you’re so awkward, Romy.”

I cringe. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. By the time Marc’s done with you, there will be no awkwardness left in sight. Just a fucking hot bod.”

My brow furrows. “Huh, okay. Well, I’m not sure awkward is really something you can change with workouts, but sure.”

“Coordination comes with practice,” Marc says, and surveys the parking lot. “So where are you parked?”

“Oh, I walked.”

“Alone?”

“Yeah, it was still light out when I left. It was nice, actually.”

“Come on, I’ll drive you. No date of mine walks home alone.”

“No, really, it’s fine. I’m good to walk.”

“You’re not walking, Romy,” he says sharply, as if I have no say in the matter. Then, because he appears to have clued in to the fact that I don’t like being told what to do, he lowers his tone and says, “Let me drive you. Let me take care of you.”

My heart squeezes. And there it is: that spark, that glimmer of hope. The desire to have someone take care of me, to cherish me, and see to my safety fills me up. The sweet promise of a man who’ll do anything to protect me shrouds me in warmth. I accept his offer and he leads me to a bright red Dodge Challenger. Not one of the really cool retro ones, but a new one, that’s shiny and that kind of looks like Lightning McQueen but without all of the stickers.

I climb in and Marc revs his engine.

He pulls out of the lot and after an uncomfortable few minutes’ drive, during which some very bad techno music blares through the speakers, we finally pull up in front of my apartment.

I give myself a mental pat on the back. I did it. I went on a date. Go me. And while it wasn't amazing, it wasn’t terrible either. It was just new. Not exactly exciting, and not like walking into Bittersweet every day and seeing those gorgeous eyes, those expert hands, and that incredible smile. God, Romy, enough of the torture already. He’s married.

I need to get him out of my head.

I glance at Marc as we sit curbside, but he’s not looking at me. His eyes are fixed on the storefront behind me. “Hey, you live right above—”

I kiss him. It’s terrible. An all-out, open-mouthed, tongue-flailing-while-seeking-his kind of kiss. It’s truly awful. The worst kiss ever.

I pull away before I can embarrass myself any further, and beat a hasty retreat, throwing an awkward goodbye over my shoulder before I slam the car door. “Thanks for dinner. Bye.”

He doesn’t wait until I’ve made it safely inside before zooming off, and that irks me because I’m hit with the memory of Elio walking me to my door and waiting until I was in my apartment before he walked away. Without a proper good night kiss.

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