Meet Cute (Page 41)

I trust it’s safe if Marnie’s parents have already said yes, but I still want to make sure. “Let me call and get the details. I think as long as it’s supervised and there are no older brothers, we should be fine.”

“Ainsley is an only child.”

“I still want to call.”

“Can you do that now?”

“It’s almost ten. I’ll call tomorrow.”

“In the morning? Her mom works from home.”

“In the morning.”

“Okay.” She looks between me and Kailyn. “Well, I’m tired and I have to be up early, so I’m going to bed. Thanks for taking me out tonight, Kailyn, I had a great time!” She gives her a hug and then flits upstairs.

“She had fun?” I stay where I am until her door closes. It’s a little less slam these days.

“We both did. You didn’t have to pick up the tab for that, you know. I offered to take her. I was more than happy to pay for the nails and dinner.”

“Taking care of my girls is the least I can do.” I tip my chin up. “Let me see those pretty nails of yours.”

She lifts her hands and vogues them in front of her face, smiling. She’s wearing a pair of royal-blue skinny jeans and a very worn It’s My Life T-shirt. Based on the way it fits, I’d say she’s probably had it since high school and wearing it tonight was purposeful.

She looks gorgeous, and I haven’t been inside her for more than five minutes in almost a week, which feels closer to forever. I stand in front of her and straddle her knees, leaning down so I can steal a kiss. It starts out chaste, but I’ve been thinking about her hand wrapped around my cock since she sent that eggplant emoji, so it escalates quickly.

“Dax,” she mumbles around my tongue and pushes on my chest.

I back off a little. “Wanna come up to my room for a while?”

She glances at the stairs. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

“She said she’s going to bed.”

Kailyn drags her nails down the back of my neck. “I think she suspects there’s more going on here. We have to be careful. I don’t want to set anyone up to get hurt here.”

“I just want to get my hands on you.”

She smirks. “I think it has more to do with getting my hands on you.”

“That, too.”

Emme’s door closes again and I take a few steps back, bumping into the coffee table. I rearrange my hard-on so it’s not obvious and make sure my shirt is covering the problem before I turn around. Emme appears at the top of the stairs. Her expectant grin falls a little.

“What’s up? You need something?”

“Oh. Uh, I forgot to give you my phone!”

She rushes down, holding it out. “I already put it on Do Not Disturb so it won’t beep.”

“Thanks, kiddo.”

“’Kay, night!” And up the stairs she goes again.

It’s something she has to do every night, pass over her phone until the morning. Otherwise I’m sure there would be text messages coming at all hours. Usually I have to go up and knock to get it from her. I sigh at Kailyn’s I told you so expression.

“When am I going to get some alone time with you?” I sound whiny. I’m hard and I have some fantasies in my head that I’d like fulfilled courtesy of Kailyn.

“This weekend, apparently, as long as you feel comfortable with Emme having a sleepover.”

“That’s days away.”

Kailyn licks her lips, and the hint of a smile appears. “Didn’t you say you had all sorts of memorabilia in the basement?”

For half a second I don’t understand what the hell It’s My Life memorabilia has to do with my hard-on. It just goes to show how single minded I am at the moment.

She stands up and does this little excited jumpy thing. It’s fucking adorable. “Why don’t you show me what you got?”

Half an hour later—okay, it’s more like twenty minutes . . . fine, seventeen, but she came, too—she traipses up the stairs carrying an armload of It’s My Life crap, and I’m a much more relaxed man.

It’s sleepover-dance night. My sheets are clean. I’m groomed, on my face and below the belt—and I’m stocked with condoms. I plan to get little in the way of sleep and lots in the way of Kailyn naked.

“Time to go, kiddo!” I call down the hall. It’s already six thirty. The dance starts at seven and I’ve offered to drive. It’s my way of sussing out the girls Emme will be spending the night with. I did the legwork, spoke to the parents, gave them my contact information, and went through the list of questions Kailyn sent me. There were many.

Everything should be good. Emme is excited and I get a night with Kailyn. It’s a win for everyone.

“Okay! I’m ready!” Emme bounds down the stairs two at a time, backpack and overnight bag slung over her shoulder.

I do a double take. “Are you wearing makeup?”

Her cheeks flush, or maybe it’s blush, I have no idea. “Just a little.”

“Right.” If she were auditioning to be a Kiss groupie, then maybe I’d say just a little, but Emme hasn’t ever really worn makeup before, so it seems like a lot. Her eyes are rimmed with black liner and I’m pretty sure she’s wearing mascara. And lipstick.

“Do I look okay?” she asks, suddenly self-conscious.

Her hair is perfectly straight and she’s wearing a pair of patterned leggings, a poufy black skirt, and an off-the-shoulder shirt that shows an inch or two of midriff. I want to make her go back upstairs and change. “You look great!” I choke out. “Can I take a picture and send it to Kailyn?”

She waves me off. “I already sent her a selfie. She said I looked great, but she’s a girl and she either dresses really formal but, like, pretty, but business-y, or she wears funky jeans and shirts from your show, so I wanted to make sure.” She blows out a breath. “Can we go? I told the girls we’d be there before seven and we’re kinda cutting it close, right?” She says this like it’s my fault. I’ve been ready for the past fifteen minutes.

As soon as we’re in the car, her phone starts going off. Boys’ names flash across her screen: Clark, Liam, Jimmy.

I need to have the boy talk with my little sister. I remember being in eighth grade, not quite sure what to do with my hormones yet, or girls, but still a little interested. “What’s going on there?”

Emme flips her phone over in her lap. “Oh, nothing.”

“You have boys texting you now?”

She sighs, as if she’s annoyed. “They all want to dance with me or something. I don’t know, it’s dumb. They stand on the other side of the gym and, like, wait for us to ask ’cause they’re all too chicken or whatever.”

“I just want to make sure you know that you can say no. Boys your age aren’t very mature, and sometimes they might do things that make you uncomfortable—”

“Oh my God, Dax! You are not trying to have the sex talk with me, are you?”

“You’re too young to have sex.”

“Um, ew. I know! Look, you can save us both the awkwardness. I already know all the technical stuff from the human anatomy and health class, and Kailyn and I have already talked all about this stuff.”

“Kailyn talked to you about sex?” When the hell did that happen, and why didn’t she ever say anything about it to me?

“Not like details or anything, just, like, the basics and how it’s my body and it’s special. Or something like that. She said it a lot better.” Emme’s cheeks are flaming and her eyes are on her lap.

I guess I’ll have to thank Kailyn for having the conversation with her. “Huh” is my stellar reply.

“Anyway, you don’t have to freak out, or worry, or anything. I’m not interested in, like, dating or anything. I’ve already had my first kiss and it was gross.”

“You what?” I can almost feel hairs turning gray.

“It was at the beginning of the school year. Chris Becker asked me to go steady and I said yes even though I wasn’t so sure I liked him like that. But then he kissed me and I was like no way ’cause he tried to put his tongue in my mouth.”

I’m white knuckling the steering wheel, and I have to clear my throat before I ask the next question. “What did you do?”

“I pushed him and he fell into a mud puddle. I told him not to talk to me anymore. Boys are weird.”

“Yes they are. I hope you feel like that about them until you’re at least twenty-five.”

“We’re down from thirty, so that’s an improvement,” Emme mutters snarkily.

I have a feeling the next few years might give me an ulcer if this is just the beginning. I pull into the driveway of her friend’s house. It’s a nice place in a good neighborhood—I looked it up in advance.

There’s a flurry of activity at the front door. Emme gets dragged upstairs to get rid of her bag but her backpack stays at the front door—I’m assuming makeup and hair stuff is in there. Lord knows she checked her reflection a million times on the way here. Her friends giggle and titter near the door, and Ainsley’s mom, Adele, fawns over me in a slightly awkward way.