What A Kiss Is

Chapter Twenty

Twenty

 

“Morning sleepyhead.” Hélèna tugs at my toe.

I roll onto my back and smile up at her. She really is pretty. She has the most beautiful olive skin and doe eyes, and she doesn’t know how to dress in any way but hot.

“Walk with me to get coffee.”

I rub my face a few times. “Sure.” This is where I have to just tell her what’s going on, right? I’m still skeptical. Honesty is what made Amber afraid of me, and right now I’m pretty damn sure it’s what’s going to make Hélèna pissed at me.

I slept in my clothes, and don’t even bother to change or get rid of my morning breath. No way I’ll be kissing anyone anytime soon, so it doesn’t much matter. I help Hélèna off the boat in silence.

She takes my arm as we walk up the street. The spring day is already warm and sunny, and it wouldn’t be so bad here if it was like this instead of raining more often.

“It’s so weird to see you in a place like this.” She giggles and squeezes my bicep.

“It’s weird being here,” I admit.

“So, something’s up. And I need to know what it is.”

Just then Amber steps out of the coffee shop. Her face falls. Her eyes go from me to the girl on my arm. I start to pull away, but Hélèna clutches her arm. “Jumping away will make you look more guilty,” she whispers.

Relax. Be normal. Relax. “Hey, Amber. Why don’t you join us?” I’m an ass.

“I’m finished. Enjoy your coffee.” Her face is hard, flat, completely unreadable. And I’d try to read her eyes, but she’s moving away from us as fast as she can. I step toward her as she passes, but Hélèna still holds my arm.

“What will you say?” she whispers.

“I don’t know.”

“Then let her go, or you’ll screw it up.”

I sigh and watch Amber walk away for another moment. Why can’t I run after her, throw my arms around her, and make it all perfect? Why can’t that be enough?

“Let’s talk, and then you can go get the girl you want.” Hélèna steps away from me and into the café.

I stand outside like a schmuck for a moment, undecided. When I step in, she’s sitting.

“I ordered yours.”

“Thanks.”

“So, how long have you been in love with that girl?” Her large brown eyes hold me locked in.

“I don’t—”

“Don’t lie. If you’re about to tell me you’re not in love with her then it’s because you’re lying or just haven’t realized it yet.”

Now I stare at the table. Our coffees are dropped off, and I think I manage a nod to the waiter.

“I miss my mom so much that it feels like I’ll cave in. When I’m around her, I don’t feel it as much. I tell her crap I don’t tell anyone, and it just comes out of me.” I take a drink, forcing my eyes off Hélèna.

She sighs. Her full lips are soft. “Too bad. I was looking forward to a little fun with you.”

“Sorry. I just—”

“Can’t.” She re-crosses her legs and leans back in her chair. “I’m too old for you anyway.”

“Whatever.” I chuckle.