A Toast to the Good Times - By Liz Reinhardt Page 0,24

I deserve.”

She snorts and half-chokes on her soda. She gasps and grabs some napkins to cover her mouth. I get nervous, but she’s telling me that she’s fine through more wheezy laughter.

“Oh, that was so damn corny, Landry! Thank you.” Her laughs bubble up again, and, honestly, she’s losing cute points right and left. “Oh my god, look at you pouting! You’re actually pouting? We’re nothing but wrong for each other. Is that not beyond obvious?”

“But you just said...” I lift my hands. “On the train, you kissed...you kissed me.”

“Yes.” She pushes her eyebrows together like I’m a word problem in an impossible math class. “You are so damn hot, Landry. Seriously. And I was feeling sentimental, and I have a stupid, stupid soft spot for you. I do. But that was definitely a kiss good-bye. I’m on the verge of starting a whole new life. And all I really want, is just to let go of the past. Not relive it. And it would make me happy to know that you’re doing well, that you’re not wasting time with stupid people and running away from things. I feel like you’re at this same point I was at a while ago. And you have the chance to switch directions before you self-destruct. And you should.”

“This is the weirdest date ever,” I gripe, slumping back in the booth.

“I know.” She grabs the check that the haggard waitress drops before I have a chance to reach for it. “But I feel like it was fate that we saw each other today. And I feel...I have no idea, really. I feel like I had to tell you all this, and now I have this sense of total peace. And those disco fries were so amazing. I’m really glad we did this.”

She sighs and pats her stomach. “This was really good. But I’m beat and need to sleep and so do you. You look like death warmed over. Can I give you a lift back home?”

And she’s serious.

I realize that I’m not getting any more kisses or anything else good, and my pout deepens. I don’t give a shit if it makes her laugh. I’m pouting with good reason.

Toni looks at me and, even after all the childish bullshit I put her through, she sees something really good, something important. She sees potential in me, and that’s wildly attractive. I need that because she’s right; I’m at the edge of something amazing, and if I don’t grab on and go with it, it’s going to pass me by, and I’ll wind up a bitter old man.

And it feels like this is a moment I should be able to grab.

I should be able to scoop her up and make all my past mistakes right.

I have my hands deep in my pockets while she pays our tab, which I hate, but she insisted on it.

I walk her out into the glass lobby, and I pull at her delicate, tiny wrist before she gets to the doors, before she can go back into the bitter cold that’s going to blow the last of this hot thing we’ve got going away.

I lean down, and I can see from the way her lips shake and her dark eyes widen that she wants to kiss me again, no matter what she says. I’m eighty percent sure I’m getting that damn kiss when she pulls back sharply and presses hard on my chest.

“No.” It’s firm out of her mouth. So firm, there’s no questioning it, and I know better than to press my luck this time.

I rub my hands up and down her arms and watch her close those soft brown eyes and breathe in, deep and slow.

I swallow hard and lower my voice so I can control it. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” She blinks a few times and nods. “Yes.” She cups my face with one hand and rubs her thumb over my cheekbone. “You...wow, you’re hot. You really are. Please find a girl who doesn’t care how hot you are, Landry. A girl who doesn’t notice how cool and suave and tortured you are, okay? Find a girl who can laugh with you. Laugh at you. Hard. That’s the kind of girl you need.”

She gives me a shove. “Now back away. Seriously, you really are so hot, Landry. It’s just that whole first love thing, I guess. I’m a hopeless romantic.” She fans her pink cheeks with one hand as she marches to her car, shaking her head the entire