KICK IT | JENLISA

67

Jennie

Irene swatted my ass out. "I doubt she's thinking about trucks."

The way Lisa's jaw dropped, it's as though I left the house naked. I smoothed over my white sleeveless top and lavender capri pants, fitted to my thighs but breathable. A white baseball cap with my ponytail threaded through the hole finished my 'look,' if granny golf was a look.

She cleaned up, with her midnight black hair neatened. Her collared shirt was Houston's blue. With khaki shorts, she passed for the world's largest insurance salesperson. Fine, she is gorgeous. That blue shirt clung to the swells of her broad shoulders and the flat, broad planes of her chest. Her sleeves strained around her biceps and the cords in her forearms tightened as she lifted my clubs. Layers of back muscles rippled as she lifted them into the back of her truck. Her rounded ass...

Fair enough, Jennie. She might hear my thoughts and her ego would burst like an oil rig. Lisa's fingers tapped the wheel to music... country, shockingly. Remnants of the heat chilled under the air-conditioning. But what kind of viper's den was she driving us to? "Anything I need to know about reuniting with your ex?"

"Uhh..." Her eyebrows drew together. "Don't think so?"

I pushed out a sharp exhale. "Are you asking me?"

She stared at the truck of pecans ahead of us as if I issued a quiz she hadn't studied for. Bumper to bumper, we weren't going anywhere. "She left me, so there's not much she can say."

"So..." I nibbled on the tip of my left thumb's cuticle. "She won't stir up shit?"

"I'm more concerned about you stirring shit up." She smiled, and her eyes shifted down to their corners. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?" I asked around my thumb.

"Chew your nails."

"Because I'm full of terrible habits." I lifted my shoulders. Not ready for a full confession, I dropped my voice. "Like jumping to conclusions."

Her jaw dropped in a mock gasp. "Did you admit... fuck, why didn't I record that?"

Amusement twinkled in her eyes, but her teasing earned her my eye-roll. "Lost opportunity, Manoban."

Her hand caught my wrist. My pulse quickened under the rough brush of skin, then she covered my hand and rested it on the console. The heat from her palm spread into my knuckles as she curled her fingers over mine.

I sunk back into my seat with a gasp. What was she doing? And why was she so fucking calm? Lisa's shoulders relaxed as if holding my hand while driving was natural. It made my fingers twitch to chew one. Hammered beats knocked on my chest. My cheeks pinched from an uncontrollable smile. Heat crept up the sides of my neck until my cheeks burned. Both palms sweated into clammy swamps.

"You and Netflix have been my only company since Kendall." Her fingers gave a gentle squeeze. "Kendall probably had more company, but I don't care anymore."

She has stayed home alone since Kendall left her? How could she not care while Kendall splashed herself all over the tabloids? Four years was longer than me and Taehyung, and I was a fucking wreck. After a long commitment, why hadn't Lisa shacked up with a different girl every night? She sure had a ready and willing line-up of skirt lifters. What shade of blue were her balls? Must be indigo. "I'm in no position to comment." I mumbled. "My weekends are spent hiding in my brother's house, for fu... ck's sake."

I wasn't sure what the flicker of appreciation in her eyes was for, but it dimmed under her weak response. "I don't hate Kendall. Is that hard to believe?"

Yes. "I believe that is the nicest amount of bullshit I've ever heard."