Kiss King - Mickey Miller Page 0,42
he might kiss me, but he doesn’t.
A wry smile crosses my face and the bouncer is letting us head inside. We should probably just take our victory and be happy with that, but I can’t help wanting to have a little more fun with this.
“Lucy’s with his parents,” I add. “Finally, Momma and Daddy are going to be able to have some fun tonight.”
I wiggle my eyebrows and bite my lip.
“It sounds like you two really need a drink,” the bouncer says. “Get on in here, brother.”
We grab a bar table in the back and order a couple of ciders.
“You are an absolute savage,” Grant says, slapping the table. “I appreciate your savagery,” he adds as we clink glasses.
“I appreciate your likeness to Luke Rutledge.”
We take a drink. “Ha, you know what’s funny? I texted Luke earlier that we were on the way here. No response, though. What if he showed up?”
Grant gets up to go to the bathroom.
While he’s gone, a guy from another table sees me and approaches me.
“Hey. So…you’re cute. We should hang out some time.”
I size him up. He’s got that ‘out of college but still trying to pretend I’m in college’ look.
“I’m here with my husband.”
“Oh. Uh, sorry,” he says, and slinks off.
I grin. As Grant comes back, he catches a glimpse of the guy leaving the table.
“Who was that?” he asks.
“Oh, just some guy who wanted to hang out.”
“What’d you tell him?”
“That I was here with my husband.”
“That’s good. If he chats with the bouncer, we need to keep our lie consistent.”
“I think they’re already suspicious of us after you didn’t kiss me,” I say.
Grant narrows his eyes at me, which sends a chill through my body.
I take another gulp of my cider.
“You’re a quick drinker tonight.”
“Well, you better catch up, buddy boy. This is naughty night.”
“Do you feel naughty after sneaking in here?”
“Well, we are breaking the law,” I agree.
We order two more, and I realize there is a major problem here.
The more I drink, the better Grant looks. And even when I’m stone cold sober it’s hard to keep my eyes off of him.
With every sip of alcohol, his already muscular forearms seem to move a little closer in the direction of one of the classical Roman sculptures that we saw at the Art Institute.
His jokes get even funnier, his shoulders broaden. He’s only wearing jeans and a fitted black V-neck. It’s not the clothes he’s in that are sending sparks through my entire body though.
It’s what happens when I imagine him without them.
He looks behind me, and his face goes white.
“What is it?”
“Oh, my God!” she calls out.
I recognize her voice before I even turn around. I wish I could say it’s screechy, but the truth is, it’s smooth and silky.
Vanessa Vandermill is a nice person I tell myself in my head. She was my study abroad advisor. A friend.
Now what on Earth is she doing here?
She approaches the table.
“Oh my gosh! What are the chances! Hey, Maya! Unbelievable, you’re back from Italy!”
“Hello, Vanessa. Good to see you.”
I shoot her eyes that have a much different message, though, and I sigh.
For a hot minute there, I thought Green Elephant could be a nice quiet venue where Grant and I could enjoy some conversation. Apparently, it’s a very popular bar on Saturday nights.
My veins are icy cold as I watch Vanessa strut away to the bar.
She’s tall, with a great figure, great hair, great rack.
I’ve been enjoying the evening so much with Grant, and she just ruined the vibe.
Why am I getting so defensive of Grant all of a sudden? Because they made out one time like two years ago when we were both freshmen? This is college. We’re sophomores now. Stuff happens.
But I can’t deny I’ve got a deep core of jealous when it comes to Grant.
I take a deep breath, then I turn back to him.
“Hey, everything okay?” he asks.
I smile evenly. “What do you mean?”
“With you. You’re quiet all of a sudden.”
“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Oh, Grant, come on.
As amazing and open as our friendship is, you don’t know what’s going through my head right now after watching you with Barbie who used to be your freaking make-out buddy freshman year?
“I’m totally fine…another round?”
“Definitely. I’m really enjoying tonight.”
“I was too.”
He narrows his gaze. “You were?”
Whoops. A drunk woman’s words are a sober woman’s thoughts. And I am officially buzzed.
“Sorry, I mean I am enjoying tonight.”
We order two more drinks, and I decide that if Grant’s going to skirt