“Tori! We weren’t!” I make a flustered huffy noise. “We would have just kissed. And made out. Maybe.”
She quirks her eyebrow at me. “If you say so.”
“It’s not like it matters. The moment passed. It’s long gone. I’m sure he’s forgotten about it.”
“You totally would have boned,” she repeats. I groan and shake my head.
I move to wipe down the tables, crossing the spot on the floor where Gage and I were filming the other night…where we almost kissed.
My legs go tingly just crossing that patch of white tile. Would we have really gone at it on the floor? I’ve never thought to have sex anywhere but a bed or a couch or someplace soft and cushioned…
But the longer I let the thought linger in my head, the hotter it sounds.
Me on my hands and knees, Gage behind me…Gage lying on the floor, me straddled on top of him…
“Bec!”
I jolt up, dropping the washcloth on the floor. “God, Tori! What?”
Her head falls back as she laughs. “Oh my god, you’re imagining having sex with him on the floor of the shop, aren’t you?”
I make more huffy, flustered noises.
Tori chuckles and starts to fill the napkin dispenser. “The next time you guys film, you’re definitely gonna make out. I’d put money on it.”
I start to protest, but she stops me.
“Bec, you don’t have to be so proper and buttoned up all the time. If the opportunity for a kiss presents itself, go with it. When are you two filming again?”
“Tomorrow night. He’s coming here after we close.”
“Perfect! You can film a sexy TikTok, get yourselves all worked up, then kiss!”
I roll my eyes at how she’s talking like she’s ticking off a to-do list.
She focuses on me. “There’s nothing wrong with kissing Gage as long as you both are into it.”
“So what, I’m just supposed to say, ‘Hey, Gage, remember the other night when we almost kissed? Well, I can’t stop thinking about how hot that was, and I think we should just kiss.’”
“Yeah.” She says it like it’s the most obvious thing I could say.
I make a scoff-laugh sound while mulling over her words. Maybe my best friend is right. Maybe it really is that simple.
Her expression turns playful, like she can read my mind. “It really is that simple, Bec.”
“Tori, I could never say that to him. Not to, like, his face. Not without a few shots of alcohol.”
She hops over to the counter and pulls out a bottle of bourbon we use to make our bourbon maple pecan ice cream flavor. She wiggles it in her hand, beaming.
I let out a laugh-groan. “You’re the worst.”
She sets the bottle on the counter, walks back over to me, and gives my shoulder a squeeze. “I’ll just leave that out while you think about what you want to do.”
The rest of the evening as I clean and close down the shop, I can’t stop eyeing that bottle of bourbon.
Chapter11
Gage
