Page 46 of Banter & Blushes #1

COLT

T iffany leads me to a small neighborhood area on the beachside. She parks in the carport of a wooden house on stilts and gets out. I park to the side and meet her at the back of the food truck.

She opens the door and climbs inside. “Okay, we’re out of steak, so I hope you like chicken fajitas.”

“Perfect.”

My answer is more about eating dinner with her than the food. We could eat ramen noodles over an open fire for all I care. I really just want to spend time alone with her.

“Here we go.” She loads her arms with containers.

I step inside to help. “Here, give me those.”

She shuffles them around so I can take them. My head dips close to hers when I hug the stack of pans. I fight back feelings creeping inside, even though it’s clear she brought me to her house.

“Thanks.” She closes the refrigerator and follows me out.

I step back and follow her up the stairs. She unlocks the door and flips on the light to a very Tiffany place. It’s full of girly things like bright pillows on the couch and curtains with flowers. I don’t even have curtains—or a permanent place to live.

When you tour with a band and sleep mostly on a bus bunk, it makes more sense to VRBO short-term. Ever since I started pursing a music career, I could fit everything I own into a backpack. Well, besides my guitar, but it has a case.

“Nice place.”

“Thanks.”

I follow her to the kitchen and set the food on the counter.

“If you don’t mind waiting a little longer, I can heat everything in the oven. It tastes better that way than in a microwave.”

“I’m in no hurry.” The only thing I need to do before tomorrow is make sure I shave. I run a hand over my jaw and remember the makeup. “Do you have a bathroom?”

“No, I use the ocean.” Tiffany smirks.

That was stupid of me . “I mean can I use the bathroom?”

“I don’t know. Can you?” She laughs.

I frown, and she laughs harder. “It’s down the hall right there.” She points behind her.

I slide down the narrow hallway and find it. This room may be even brighter than the living room, with a flowered shower curtain.

I lock the door behind me and stare in the mirror, then almost fall backward when I’m eye level with a sign that reads, “Get Naked!” Not the thought I need to have in the bathroom of my ex-girlfriend.

Tiffany always had an odd sense of humor, and I’ve been in enough Southern women’s houses to know they think stuff like that is cute.

But that one caught me off-guard.

A bright pink towel with lace hangs from a hook by the sink. I’d rather use a paper towel and not mess that one up. I open the closet door and do a quick scan. Just more towels and girl stuff, including more things I don’t want to touch.

I roll off some toilet paper and hope for the best.

It’s a little mushy, but does the job of wiping my face clean. That leaves me with a wad of mud-colored wet paper balls. I can’t put those in the trash, she’ll see them. I toss them in the toilet, then flush.

The toilet clogs. Of course it does.

I open the closet again and grab the plunger I saw in the corner. It’s bright pink like everything else in this room, and has flowers on the handles. Where does she find this stuff?

She clearly bought this plunger on looks alone, because it’s not getting the job done. I flush again, and mildly panic when the water fills higher. This is not cool.

It’s just paper. Isn’t that crap supposed to dissolve?

“Colt, are you okay?” Tiffany’s voice sounds dangerously close.

“Yeah.”

I give it one more good plunge, then wipe the sweat from my brow. Wearing makeup isn’t looking so bad right now.

“The food is ready. Let me know if you need anything.”

I plunge a little more, breaking the paper apart.

That’s it. I’m coming clean. No pun intended.

I open the door to Tiffany right outside, arms crossed. She looks concerned. I would be too. Heck, I am.

“Your toilet is stopped up.”

“Oh. Did you find the plunger?”

I nod, then glance back to the flowered handle sticking up from the toilet.

“Was it the peppers in the fajitas? If you don’t eat enough queso to work against them, that happens sometimes.” She winces.

“No.” I laugh nervously, then sigh. “I didn’t do that.”

“Sorry.”

I laugh harder and sit on the tile floor. She gives me a puppy-dog face and bends beside me. “Did you throw up?”

I shake my head. “It’s more embarrassing than stomach issues.”

“You can tell me.” She puts her arm on my shoulder and slides closer.

“I had to wash off my makeup.”

Her eyebrows raise, making her eyes even bigger than usual.

“I didn’t want you to get close to my face and see it.”

Her lips smash together and start to shake. I can tell she’s trying not to laugh.

“You can laugh.”

She shakes her head and holds her breath until her cheeks shake too. Then she exhales with a giggle. “That’s either the sweetest or stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Half-sweet, half-stupid. Good to know I haven’t changed.”

She bursts out laughing, and I laugh with her. Partly at my stupidity over worrying about the makeup and trying to hide it, and partly because her laugh is contagious.

After the ridiculousness wears off, she lays her head on my shoulder. The top of it brushes against my cheek and neck, making them hot. Her hair smells like a field of wildflowers after a rainstorm.

I suck in the scent and exhale. She raises her head just enough to look at me. Our eyes meet and she blinks.

I’m having a hard time reading her right now. I want to kiss her. I’ve wanted to kiss her ever since the first time I saw her on set. But does she want me to?

We were young when we dated, and friends before that. I’m bad enough at reading women with whom I don’t have any history or blurred lines. I can’t mess this up or I may never get another chance with her. That is, if I even have one now.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she whispers.

Every vein in my body freezes. I can hardly breathe enough to answer her.

“You do?”

“Yeah. You think it would be stupid to kiss me.”

“That’s not exactly it,” I whisper .

She sits up straighter and faces me. Our faces are now a few inches apart. “It wouldn’t be stupid. It would be sweet.”

I swallow hard. It would be sweet. The sweetest ever.

“Well they did make me brush my teeth in the makeup trailer.”

She smiles, and I focus on her pearly teeth. Then they disappear when she moves closer and presses her lips to mine.

I shut my eyes and relax as the familiarity of her lips on mine takes me back to when we were together. I wrap my arm around her back, but allow her to lead the kiss. The last thing I want is to come on too strong and scare her away.

She was right. It is sweet. I force myself to focus on that alone and not how stupid it probably is to kiss a girl I care so much about but may not see for another nine years.