because she chose that moment to walk back in, carrying a creamy smoothie in a to-go cup. Handing it to Kevin, she said, “Fourteen seventy-four.” Off his confusion, she nodded at June’s juice. “She said you were buying.”
Kevin shook his head, pulling his wallet out of his mesh shorts. “Of course she did.”
“Thank you, Kevin.” June hopped down from the tiny stool. “I mean that.”
Kevin’s face broke into that goofy grin. He reached for a napkin from the counter. After spitting on it with a loud, horrible sound, he leaned forward and wiped the wet, warm thing across June’s upper lip.
“Aack!” Furious, she wiped at her mouth. “What are you doing?”
“You had a carrot juice mustache,” he said. “And I hate to tell you this, June, but orange just isn’t your color.”
Twenty-one
On Saturday, Chloe made a point of avoiding Ben. This wasn’t difficult, considering he seemed to be avoiding her, too. Typically, they texted nonstop but she didn’t hear from him all day. Not even once.
This irritated her in a major way.
In her opinion, Ben should be the one to be a little more mature. After all, he was the one who kissed her, not the other way around. Besides, he had plenty of experience dealing with the opposite sex. But . . . Chloe glared down at her phone. Maybe this was exactly how he dealt with them.
At two o’clock, her text alert finally chimed. This earned her the evil eye from the serious-looking girl sitting at the library table across from hers. “Sorry,” Chloe mouthed, but she really didn’t care. She was just relieved that Ben had finally, finally gotten in touch.
To her surprise, the text message wasn’t from Ben. It was from Geoff, confirming their date for that night. Chloe stared at the message, torn between disappointment and excitement. Finally, she chose excitement and texted him back.
Turning off her ringer, Chloe tossed the phone into her backpack. Whatever. If Ben wanted to be a jerk, let him. She didn’t have time for it. Besides, it wasn’t like she was interested in him like that, anyway.
Chloe got to work and lost track of time. By the time she checked her phone, it was seven, leaving her just an hour to get home, get changed and meet Geoff downtown. She raced home and quickly tried on a few outfits. Nothing looked right, so she decided to wear the same thing she’d worn on her date with Ben. It wasn’t like anyone would know and besides, he’d said the skirt was sexy.
Since there was no time to take a bath, Chloe spritzed her hair with vanilla and pomegranate perfume and swiped on some brown mascara. Then, after a critical once-over in the mirror, Chloe dug through her closet until she found a black lacquered purse June had given her. She never wore it because it was slippery on her shoulder, but she hoped the designer label would make her look more mature.
With little time to spare, Chloe raced out the door. There, she screeched to a halt. Ben was keying into his apartment. He was wearing a light blue T-shirt and a pair of well-worn jeans, his hair as tousled and sun-streaked as ever. She wondered how it was possible that he managed to look even better than he had on their date last night. The injustice made her want to punch him in the face.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Hi.”
“Hey.” Ben fidgeted with his key chain. It was an anime doll with wild blond hair, wearing an orange tracksuit. She wondered who had given it to him. “Going on your date?” His gaze swept over her outfit.
Chloe blushed, wondering if he knew she was wearing the exact same thing. “Yeah.” As always, the lacquered purse started to slip off her shoulder. She tugged it back up, saying, “Wish me—” Then, maybe because she’d moved it the wrong way or because the purse was perpetually annoying, it slid off her shoulder and dropped to the ground, spilling pens, lip gloss and papers across the hallway.
At the same time, Chloe and Ben both bent to pick everything up and they cracked heads.
“Ow!” she cried, grabbing her hair.
“Come on,” he groaned, rubbing his forehead.
Straightening up, they eyed each other warily. Neither took a step backwards.
Chloe’s eyes wandered down to Ben’s lips. They were slightly parted and just a little bit chapped. She found it hard to believe that, less than twenty-four hours ago, those lips had been pressed against hers.