Molly - Sarah Monzon Page 0,47
just the top of the head region, I’d be okay. Sure, a little embarrassed, but nothing I couldn’t recover from.”
A vague awareness that Jocelyn had pulled out her phone and texted someone penetrated my monologue but not enough to slow the jumble of words swirling out of my mouth.
“And his hair is quite nice. Shiny and thick with just the right amount of wave. I’d love to run my fingers through those luscious strands. I should have. I should have just touched his hair. But no. I couldn’t stop staring at his lips. Did you know he has the nicest lips I’ve ever seen? Perfectly full on the bottom and oh so inviting on the top. They were like a magnet pulling me forward. I couldn’t resist.”
I threw myself against the back cushions in—yes, I admit—a dramatic fashion. “What was I thinking? I kissed him, Jocelyn. Right square on the mouth.”
She waited, presumably to make sure I’d finished my outburst. “I’m assuming you mean Ben?”
“Yes. Ben. Perfectly kissable Ben. Benji, actually.” I smooched my own fingers. “Right there. Kissed him. Like a crazy person.”
She chuckled. “Oh, you’re crazy all right.”
“And then I lied. I lied, Jocelyn. I never lie.”
“What did you lie about?”
“Kissing him. I told Chloe that I didn’t, but I did. I kissed him. Right on the lips.”
“So you’ve said.”
I caught her wiping a smile off her face but plowed on. “And you know what?”
“What?”
I leaned toward her like I was going to impart my most secretest secret. “I want to kiss him again.”
She peered at me askance. “I’m going to look up shock symptoms and see if they’re similar to being drunk, because you sound out of your mind right now.”
“I do feel kind of sick.” I laid a hand on my stomach. “My heart won’t stop pounding, my skin is clammy, and my muscles feel all trembly.”
She put her phone aside. “Molly, are you…are you in love with him?”
“No, no, don’t be silly. I can’t be in love.” I made a dismissive wave with my hand then stopped.
Sobered.
What was wrong with me? The truth and nothing but the truth. The motto I lived by. Benji Reed had turned me into a deceiver. A fabricator of the worst order.
But no matter if I wanted to or not, I couldn’t pretend these feelings away. “I’m lying again. Why am I lying again? Yes, yes, I’m in love.” The hysterics drained out of me, and my head lolled to the back of the couch. “Love is the worst. It ruins everything.”
Her lips curled in a conciliating fashion. “Love does not ruin everything.”
I gave her the side eye. My manic moment had drained me of all energy and now I felt the pull toward the slime pit of self-pity. “Love is irrational. It arrives uninvited, like an unwanted guest, just showing up on your doorstep expecting you to be happy to see it like it was Publishers Clearing House or something. Then it has the gall to get all comfy even though you rationalize and give it logical reasons to go bother someone else. Finally, it starts messing with your head. Tells you to do crazy things like, I don’t know, kiss your boss. Next thing you know, you find yourself once again without a job, and then you’re that sorry person on holiday movies out in the cold and the rain looking in the large picture window while everyone your heart longs for is inside, warm and feasting on a nice family dinner.”
“How about you save the drama for your llama?” A knock preceded the front door opening. “Or your mama.”
I pulled a throw pillow to my chest. “You called my mother?”
“Girl, I don’t care how crazy you get after an innocent little kiss, your mama is still way scarier.”
Except my mom wasn’t the one who walked into the living room and plopped down beside me. “She kissed him?” Amanda squealed, the canvas of her high tops rubbing against my ankle. “We need details.”
“Still not a locker room, Amanda,” Jocelyn admonished.
The front door opened and closed again. “This better be a real emergency. I left Mrs. Salazar under the dryer, and now Teresa is going to have to finish her and she’ll get the tip.” Nicole planted her hands over the apron strings of her salon smock, tied around her waist, as she scrutinized the rest of us. “No one’s bleeding, but we’re missing Betsy. Is this an intervention? Are we finally going to confront Betsy on—”
Jocelyn held up