“Oh my God!” Glen exclaimed again. “You have to tell me everything!”
I took the roses to the ones on the coffee table and arranged them around in the vase. “He kind of kissed my neck.”
Kind of? He had most definitely done that.
“What!” She squealed and jumped around the living room, making so much noise that Drixie scattered off into my bedroom.
I giggled.
“I need details. Like right now!”
I was still floating from the experience and stroked the petals of a rose adoringly, thinking about it. “He is incredible.”
“That’s not a detail, Hallie! That’s more like a conclusion.” She ripped me away from the roses and sat me on the Victorian sofa, gripping my hands in hers, buzzing with excitement so much that I swayed to the same jumpy rhythm with which she bounced up and down.
“Okay, well. I told him he could kiss me if he wanted to.”
Glen squealed again, making it impossible for me to say anything further.
I snorted. “Do you want the story or not?”
“Yes, yes. I’ll be quiet.”
“Doubtful.”
“So he kissed you. Go on! Wait, how did you get from the break -up letter to kissing?”
“It wasn’t a break-up letter.”
“Semantics.”
I shook my head, grinning like a fool. “He was coming out from his flat with the flowers when I dropped the letter off. I couldn’t do anything. I tried to run once I handed it to him, but he came after me and dragged me in for tea.”
“Of course, you tried to run.” Glen clicked her tongue.
I rolled my eyes. “He made tea. We talked. He said he wants all my drama, no matter what. Wait, before that, he hugged me after I told him about Mum and kissed the top of my head.”
“That’s a lot of kissing.” Glen squeezed my hands and kept on bouncing.
“Well, it was only that and the one on my neck. It was more like a brush than a kiss, but I said he could kiss me for real.”
“Okay, did he?”
I cleared my throat. “No.”
Imagine our conversation after Sunday—when I came home with swollen lips and several markings on my neck that I was unable to hide behind my hands. She gave me no rest until I’d spilled every single detail, down to how hard he had felt against me and how I almost thought I could go further than just kissing. It was a squeal-party in our living room.
“When are you going to see him again?” Glen demanded. “You need sexy lingerie. I’ll take you shopping tomorrow.”
“Oh my God, no.”
“Oh my God, yes!” Glen insisted.
When she got an idea, it was almost impossible to convince her othe
rwise.
On Monday, after myshift in Turtle Bay, we hit the shopping centre.
