Page 37

KC

Declan

I picked up Abi from work at noon on Saturday, and it was wild walking into the grocery store again. When I’d charged in there the first time, livid that some person was pretending to be my girlfriend, I’d seen a cute checkout girl who I assumed was a criminal.

But today when I walked in and looked over at checkout counter two, I saw a stunningly beautiful woman who made my heart feel lighter when I looked at her.

Who I wasn’t sure felt the same.

I was respecting her boundaries, especially when I didn’t know her feelings, but it was killing me not to be able to do anything about this situation.

I wasn’t used to being patient.

She smiled when she saw me. I got in her line and said, “Are you ready?”

“Benny,” she yelled over her shoulder, “I’m leaving.”

“Did you get the produce stocked?” he yelled back.

“Of course I did,” she said.

“Karen, have a good weekend,” she said to the woman at counter one.

“You, too, Abs,” the woman replied, and I still really liked that. Abs . I really liked everything about her, and I didn’t know what to do with that.

My inner chaos only got worse when she gave me a full-on grin and said, “I’m so excited to go to Kansas City.”

The hesitation I’d seen in her eyes the other morning was gone, and the tone of her “fine—I’ll go” text was nowhere to be found. This was Abi in her full-throttle Abiness, and I could only agree. “Me, too.”

I didn’t know what to expect from a road trip with Abi, but I was looking forward to a few hours of just her with zero distractions.

As soon as we hit the road, she said, “I’m assuming you’re good with us taking turns on the music selection?”

“Sure,” I said as I merged onto the freeway.

“Perfect,” she said, connecting her phone. “Let’s play the music game, then, Dexxie.”

“I don’t think you can call that a game,” I said.

“Hush until you know the rules,” she said. “And my first song choice is ‘Promiscuous’ by Nelly Furtado.”

I had to reach deep into the area of my brain where all the forgotten songs of the early 2000s lived to retrieve that gem. “Why is that your first song?”

“Because I thought of it the other day and feel like I haven’t heard it in years, and I used to love it. Oh—also the important part of the music game is that you have to sing along to your song perfectly .”

“Still not a game, and no, thank you,” I said, switching lanes.

“Well, it’s a game if the person who sings along best, without missing any words, wins a prize,” she said, obviously flying by the seat of her pants.

“Is there a prize?” I asked, glancing over.

“Um,” she said, looking around.

“So there isn’t a prize,” I said, laughing. “And you’re just making this up.”

“There will be a prize,” she said defensively. “And keep your eyes on the road, Powell. It’s going to be the most amazing, wonderful prize, but the person who wins it has to be really good at singing along, so you probably shouldn’t even worry about it. Not yours to win.”

“How about the winner gets to choose the prize?” I suggested.

“That sounds dangerous,” she said.

“Do we need to have parameters and limits? Rules to your prizes?”

“I don’t think so,” she said. “Because we’re reasonable adults. We’ll just each have veto power. If you demand I lick the concrete, I will veto that. But if it’s reasonable, I will grant you your wish. But you won’t win, by the way.”

“Crank up that Furtado and get started, Mariano, while I think about what I want from you.”

I hit the gas and she belted out the words, and I was obsessed with the way she was using a piece of paper to score the event, marking off a point when she missed something.

I chose “22 ” by Taylor Swift for my first song, mostly because what song was easier to sing along to than that? And I didn’t give a shit about anything other than winning that prize; I sang my ass off.

But I quickly discovered that even if I lost, it was a win because Abi was having a great time. She cackled while I sang, which was the greatest sound in the world and I was kind of becoming addicted to it, leading to me going even harder the next time it was my turn.

She sang Olivia Rodrigo, Sabrina Carpenter, Maisie Peters, and Gracie Abrams, while I hit my stride with Metallica, Aidan Bissett, and Post Malone.

Abi was fantastic, by the way.

She sang full-out and was absolutely better than I was, far more performative and creative with her song choices.

But I was playing the odds, only selecting songs I knew I could nail.

Which meant I was the winner.

Abi sat in the car and tallied up the points when we got to the hotel while I took our bags out of the trunk, and when she finally came around to the back, she gave me a shy grin that I wanted to eat.

“So what do you want your prize to be?” she asked, squinting up at me in the bright sun. “And remember I have veto power.”

“Oh, I remember,” I said.

“So…?” she asked, and the way she subconsciously licked her bottom lip, I swear to God she knew. “What do you think you deserve?”

God, she was pretty. I looked down into her eyes and felt like asking for every fucking thing. But I said, “I want to kiss you.”

She swallowed, but then her lips kicked up into the cocky-ass grin that I was starting to think was her brave face when she didn’t really know what else to do. “You’ve already kissed me multiple times , so does this mean it was so amazing that you need more?”

I was pretty sure she thought she had the upper hand by being mouthy like that, but she’d backed me into a corner where I had no choice but to be completely honest. I put my thumb on her bottom lip, my gaze stuck on the mouth that I couldn’t stop thinking about, and I said, “That is absolutely what it means. So now the ball’s in your court, Mariano. Are you going to veto?”

I was surprised when she went on her tiptoes, set her hands on my cheeks, and said, “That was going to be my prize if I won, too.”

She pulled my head down to hers, and that was it.

I guided her body against the car and devoured her mouth, exploring every corner while slowly dying every time I felt the flex of her fingers or the catch of her breath.

It was hot and wild, frantic and hungry, the kind of kiss that would be accompanied by falling clothing if we were anywhere but a hotel parking lot.

I couldn’t process time or anything else around us; every one of my senses homed in on the feel of her body against mine. It wasn’t until I felt her pull away that my consciousness returned.

“So,” she said, blinking up at me like she’d been lost, too. “Do you feel like a winner?”

I knew I was hiding nothing when a dipshit smile took over my face and I said around a laugh, “Hell fucking yes. Let’s go check in.”