The Art of French Kissing by Brianna R. Shrum

Author:Brianna R. Shrum
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781510732063
Publisher: Sky Pony
Published: 2018-05-14T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I wake up to a text, but not from Reid.

And it’s fine.

Of course it’s fine. Literally why wouldn’t it be fine?

It’s my sister.

Jillian: HAVE YOU WON YET, BUG

Carter: NOPE

Jillian: Well get on it I miss you and also no one can cook

Carter: YOU get on it. I have confidence in your ability to turn on an oven

Jillian: UGH

Jillian: Well. I love you bb. Kick absolute ass.

Carter: <3 <3 <3

I don’t say: Well Jill I’m fine I think I’m fine but there’s this guy I can’t stop thinking about, and I think teaming up is going to kill us both and also the longer I stay here, the more I think I got here on a fluke. I’ll be home any effing minute ok?

Because I don’t want her to know that I’m panicking. That it’s gotten to the point that every time I walk into that kitchen, it feels like a sentencing, not a gift.

I pick at my pilling shirt as I walk around outside in the heat and make my brain just slow. Take a second.

I want five minutes free of panicking. And wondering how a girl who’s used nothing but clearance pans and on-sale cheap meat and . . . shit, basically, to cook with, who’s never taken extra classes outside home-ec because, SURPRISE, even saying unaffordable is like ha. Hahaha. Understatement, meet my mouth.

But being here, where I am now, feels impossible. And the closer I get to the end, the more impossible it feels.

I keep seeing Reid, cocky and good and just assuming I’m on his level, pushing me forward, and I think: You, Reid. You should be here.

Riya, pushing Andrew around and destroying every challenge, Addie and this total joy that comes over her in the kitchen, so thoroughly that it’s like she forgets the pressure of everything and sinks into it.

And then. Here I am.

And it’s all just—terrifying.

I shove my hands down into my pockets and try to think of something else, anything else.

Then I hear laughter floating up from the trees. “Will, you can’t say that out loud.”

“Why not? You’re the only one here and you’re not gonna judge me for it.”

“Who said I wouldn’t judge you for it? I’m judging you.”

Will’s laugh rings out as I round the corner and find them sitting on this picnic bench, facing each other, almost touching.

Riya jumps up as soon as she sees me and points. “Carter is here and she will judge you with me.”

Will glances up at me and waves, leaning forward on that bench as soon as Riya stands, still leaning when she sits.

“Yeah,” I say. “I judge you.”

“You don’t even know what I said,” says Will.

“He said he—”

“I said I hate cats. I hate literally everything about cats, and if I could travel back in time and create a catless world, I would do it.”

“Oh my god, I am judging you,” I say.

“Cats hate you. Your cat wants to eat you alive and steal your soul. And if it can’t do that, well it’s at least gonna knock your shit off the counter just to watch you have to retrieve it.

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