Wyatt Cocker (Cocker Brothers Book 23) by Faleena Hopkins

Author:Faleena Hopkins
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hop Hop Productions Inc
Published: 2019-05-22T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 21

DIANA

L ita is waiting just inside the door, mud mask cracked now. She must’ve grimaced a million ways to get it to look like that. There’s a new one on her shocked face right now as she demands, “Why the hell was Wyatt Cocker on our porch with you? Do you have a magic wand or something, turn Eddie into a prince? What. The. Fuck.”

From that kiss…I am floating.

Never been kissed like that where I forget we are even separate beings.

“Diana, you look dazed. Or drunk. Are you drunk?”

“No alcohol needed.”

She gapes at me, stunned.

My limp is more prominent as I enter a living room where dust bunnies no longer greet me.

Lita follows like watching a specimen in a lab, one who just did the miraculous thing scientists had been hoping it would for years. “He kissed you, didn’t he? Just now out there after I interrupted…he kissed you!”

I lower myself onto our couch, “Yep,” and grab her bowl of popcorn, scooping a handful and staring at it. If I shove this into my mouth, the taste will override his. Is it worth it? No.

“Why are you staring at the popcorn?” Lita almost sits on our glass coffee table but realizes that might not be the brightest of ideas. So she pulls a velvet chair closer instead. “Eat the fucking popcorn. You’re freaking me out!”

“But…”

“Eat it!”

Starving, I shove all of it in at once, cheeks puffed like a squirrel’s in November. I feel so damn good that I’m holding back a laugh as I try to chew and swallow.

Lita is reaching to wrap her brain around this, voice filled with wonder. “As soon as you can talk again, tell me everything.” She flies up. “I need some wine. You want some wine? I want wine. I’ll get us some wine. I’m gone.”

After a whole ten seconds, she races back with the opener, a bottle of rosé, and two glasses held upside down by their stems. She mumbles to herself, turning the corkscrew with a fervor, “Why am I doing this before I wash my face? My face is itchy. Why don’t I go wash my freaking face?” Some people pour wine delicately, but not her. Not now. Not tonight. Light pink liquid splashes everywhere, and she hands me my glass with a final and authoritative, “Talk!”

“I met Wyatt Cocker.”

“No shit. I can see that. I have eyes. Explain.” She takes a drink, staring at me.

“He kissed me.”

Her wine splashes. “New information please!”

“I was on the date with Eddie and Wyatt followed us.”

“Why would he do that? Did he just see you, fall instantly in love, and start trailing you?”

On a laugh I explain, “No, they hit me with their car today. The police car. I didn’t fall. I was hit.” My roommate stares at me like I spoke another language, so I launch into the whole story, a ramble that has no punctuation and perhaps makes very little sense. She hangs on every word, taking sips while never once breaking eye contact.

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