Dirty Little Secrets - C. J. Omololu [68]
As far as I knew, she didn’t even like Josh, so the only reason for the theatrics was to get him to notice her. And in that skirt and with those heels, if he didn’t notice her, he was blind.
“What about you, Luce?” Josh asked. “You look like you could use another beer.” I swear he winked at me when he said it.
I pretended to take another sip from my cup. “No, thanks. I’m fine.” If I got more beer, the potted plants on the patio would probably wither up and die before the night was over.
“Well, at least help me carry these.” Josh tucked my arm into his and spun me around.
I was so surprised I started sputtering. “Wait . . .”
Kaylie grinned as I looked over my shoulder at her. “Go on, Lucy—Josh looks like he needs help.”
Josh guided me effortlessly through the crowd and in through the patio doors to the kitchen. His cheeks were bright red from playing and his hair was damp with sweat. “Here we are,” he said, and set the cups down on the counter.
“But the keg’s out there,” I said.
“I’ve got something better in here,” Josh said, and pulled the refrigerator door open. “Rinse those out, will you?” His voice was muffled as he dug through the crammed fridge.
I had no idea what he was doing, but I turned on the tap and rinsed our cups under hot water. The beer in the keg was nasty, and I wasn’t up for drinking any more, but I could always find somewhere to dump it out.
Bottles clanked as Josh emerged from the depths of the fridge. “Here we go. I had to stash them way back there so nobody would drink them.”
“Must be special,” I said. “I didn’t think to bring my own.” I was nervous, so I was monitoring everything that came out of my mouth. It was like there were two people in my body—one who was actually speaking to Josh and one who was hanging back and making sure that the one doing the talking didn’t sound completely stupid.
“Hand me your cup.” Josh took one bottle and put the end of his shirt over the cap as he twisted it off with a sound like air escaping from a tire. He poured some into my cup and handed it back to me. For the shortest of seconds, our fingers brushed and my whole arm began to tingle.
The beer in my cup had a big brown head of foam on it. I sniffed it like I knew how good beer was supposed to smell.
“Try it,” Josh said. His brown eyes crinkled up in a nice way as he grinned at me. “It’s good stuff. Imported.”
I tipped the cup and took a sip. It was good—sweet and spicy.
“Root beer,” Josh leaned in and whispered. He touched his forehead to mine and laughed quietly. “It didn’t look like you were enjoying the keg, so I thought you might want something else. I’m driving tonight, so I brought my own. Keep it in the cup and nobody will know the difference.”
“Thanks,” I said. I grinned and licked the foam off my upper lip. Josh had caught me dumping perfectly good beer into a potted palm and for some reason didn’t think I was a total loser. What was wrong with him? I took another sip of root beer and the bubbles tickled my nose. We stood looking at each other, not saying anything for a long moment.
Josh tipped his cup to mine like he was making a toast. All of a sudden he seemed a little nervous. He leaned in, and it was all I could do not to put my hand out to touch his damp hair. “I’m glad you changed your mind about coming tonight,” he said.
I quickly glanced into his eyes and then down at the peeling vinyl floor. “Yeah, I got done early,” I managed.
“Have you been here a long time?” He probably wondered if I’d seen him and Justine.
“Long enough,” I answered, and got a puzzled look in response. Before he could say anything, a group of guys slid the glass door open and rolled into the kitchen.
“Dude! Good to see ya.” Dylan Roberts shoved his way in between us and gave Josh one of those complicated guy handshakes that ends with bumping fists. He did something on the football