and if you don’t want me to, you’re just going to have to stop me.”
Jesse’s brows draw together in confusion. “Are you quoting Dawson’s Creek to me right now?”
“I paraphrased,” I say, stepping closer to him. “Five…Four…”
“I’m not going to stop you, Webster—you’re going to have to actually go through with this, you know.”
“One.”
7
From the private Facebook group ‘Finchley Locals Community Hangout’
* * *
Post by Candace Goode: Just a suggestion—next time we do a Vegas night in Finchley we should try organizing it with more than two days’ notice
Alice Ackerman reply to Candace Goode’s post: Oh yes, definitely! We could go all out with proper gaming tables and entertainment! I can perform, of course!
Candace Goode reply to Alice Ackerman’s comment: I was thinking more along the lines of give people time to learn how to play Blackjack so we don’t end up with another giant Go Fish tournament, but sure, why not?
Missy Clarke reply to Candace Goode’s comment: I like Go Fish
* * *
Jesse
* * *
What the actual hell is going on? I know I’ve had a few cocktails tonight, but I really don’t think I’ve reached drunken hallucination territory. Webster Goode is kissing me. Kissing me. His mouth is on mine, his hands are cupping my face, and he’s kissing me. And it’s a good kiss, too. Just the right amount of pressure. Not all sloppy and wet. The kind of kiss that makes me want to yank him closer and just devour his mouth.
But no.
That is not going to happen. This is Web Goode, and I am not going to kiss him back.
I draw away, letting out a shuddering breath and praying it’s not too obvious how much that kiss affected me.
“So…do you believe me now?” he asks, a slight smirk curving at his mouth.
It takes me a moment to remember what we’d been talking about earlier. I narrow my eyes at him. “You think one kiss, in the dark, where no one can even see is enough to convince me?”
Web arches a challenging brow. “You want me to try again? You did seem to enjoy it…”
I let out a choking laugh. “No thanks. I’m not that desperate.”
“Then what?” he asks. “What do I have to do to convince you I’m not the homophobic asshole you think I am?”
I scrape my teeth over my bottom lip, feeling my mouth curve into a smile of anticipation. There’s really nothing he can do to actually convince me—I have years of evidence to back up my claim—but that doesn’t mean I can’t have some fun tonight…
“Come with me.” I grab his arm and lead him into the throng of club-goers, my eyes scanning for a likely target.
I spot a cute guy hovering near the bar, sending appreciative looks toward the tattooed barman. Pulling Web along, I approach the guy, offering a bright grin. “Hey, gorgeous! I’m wondering if you can help us?”
The guy immediately turns his interested gaze from the barman to Web and me. “Anything,” he says with a flirtatious smile.
“I’m looking for a second opinion. You see, my boyfriend is thinking about cutting his hair…” I spare a glance for Web, who’s looking at me with what seems to be a mixture of annoyance and amusement. “But I like it a little longer…more to grab onto, you know?”
The guy scans his eyes up and down Web’s body, doing nothing to hide his interest. “Oh, I can imagine. You should definitely keep it longer. It looks so nice and silky…” Slowly, he reaches toward Web, as though he can’t quite stop himself from touching the hair in question.
Quick as a flash, Web snaps his hand up and gabs the guy’s wrist, averting the contact. “Sorry,” he says through a tight jaw. “Only my sweetie pie here gets to touch the hair.”
He lets go of the guy’s wrist and the guy offers an apologetic smile. “My bad.” Then to me he says, “Have fun with that one. He seems like a firecracker,” before offering a wink and strolling away.
“What exactly was the point of that?” Web asks me, his face a mask of confusion.
“I’m not entirely sure,” I admit with a chuckle. “But it was a lot of fun.” I grab his hand and start leading him out of the club. “Come on, sweetie pie. Let’s go see a drag show.”
It’s not until we’re out of the club and strolling down the Strip that I realize we’re still holding hands. I don’t pull away, though, figuring this is the perfect opportunity