Emmy & Oliver - Robin Benway Page 0,55
shit about Starbucks. I like the place next door better, you know that. But Starbucks has the best employees.” He wiggled his eyebrows at me.
The pieces clicked together.
“Kevin works at Starbucks?” I guessed, and Drew nodded. “So I get to go to Starbucks and watch you flirt with the barista?”
“Feel free to live tweet the experience!”
“Drew!” I banged my head against the headrest. “This is going to be so boring! And aren’t you supposed to play hard to get? This is definitely not playing hard to get.”
“Okay, first, thank you for being an amazing, supportive friend. I’ll totally buy you something that involves whipped cream and I’ll love you forever.”
“And?”
“And the time for playing hard to get is over because I have been gotten.” Drew looked so pleased that the tips of his ears were turning red. “Kevin stayed over after the party last night.”
“You had sex with Kevin?!” I dove for my phone, ready to text Caro.
“No, no, not that. God, calm down. I just . . . we kissed and . . . you know, we actually cuddled.”
“You do like to snuggle.”
“I am a first-class snuggler, let’s be real. And so is Kevin.” Drew held up his hand, made a V with his index and middle fingers, then brought them together. “Compatible.”
“Is he a good kisser?”
He signaled to turn left out into the main intersection. “Do you think I’d be this excited if it was like making out with a mackerel? He was amazing. He is amazing. And he”—Drew honked at the person in front of him to move—“said he likes me back. What is the holdup here?” He honked again.
“You literally look like you’re starring in a romantic comedy right now,” I said. “You’re almost glowing. I need sunglasses to look at you.”
Drew handed me his and I put them on. “Do I look stupid?” I flipped down the car’s visor to look in the mirror, but there wasn’t one.
He glanced at me. “No, you’re adorable.” He honked again. “I mean, seriously. How hard is it to press a gas pedal?”
“You know Caro and I still have to vet Kevin, though. He needs to be group-approved for our official seal of approval.”
“Caro already gave him the thumbs-up last night, even though she was so drunk, she couldn’t even spell her name. Which is more than I can say for you and your disappearing act. Why are we just sitting here?” Apparently, Drew had no problem keeping two conversations going at the same time, one with me and one with the traffic jam.
“Well, I was a little busy last night,” I said, suddenly feeling my ears turn as red as Drew’s.
But he was too distracted by the traffic jam to notice. “Are you kidding me?” he cried, sticking his head out the window. “The sign says STOP!” he yelled. “Not GIVE UP!”
“I thought making out with someone was supposed to lower your blood pressure,” I mentioned as he settled back in the driver’s seat.
“You know I have road rage,” Drew replied, like it was the simplest answer imaginable. “Now, sorry. What?”
“What what?”
“You were saying?”
“Oh, just that I was busy last night.” I tucked my hair behind my ear.
“Nervous tic!” Drew cried. “Tell me everything. Especially because we’re not going anywhere anytime soon.” He glared at the traffic jam.
“So, um, me and Oliver sort of made out last night.”
“Shut up!” Drew slapped the steering wheel in delight. “You did not!”
“Oh, but I did.”
“Okay, can I just say? Oliver is way cuter than the last guy you kissed.”
“Ethan was totally fine, dude, I—”
“Rabbit teeth. There, I said it.”
“He was going to get orthodontia eventually,” I protested. “But I don’t want to talk about Ethan.”
“Yes, okay. Redirecting back. Thank you!” he suddenly screamed at the cars in front of us as they began to crawl forward. “I was starting to worry that I should have packed a snack and a canteen just so I could drive three miles to Starbucks. So where did you make out?”
“The gazebo, of course.”
“Naturally. Did you initiate?”
I hesitated just long enough for Drew to say, “It’s totally fine if you did, you know. You have to be a take-charge woman, Emmy. No one likes a doormat.”
“No, I’m just trying to remember,” I told him. “I think . . . I did? Or maybe it was . . . ?” I frowned and tilted my head, like it would dislodge the stuck memories and send the correct one to its rightful place in my brain. “I think