From that kiss…I am floating.
Never been kissed like that where I forget we are even separate beings.
“Diana, you look dazed. Or drunk. Are you drunk?”
“No alcohol needed.”
She gapes at me, stunned.
My limp is more prominent as I enter a living room where dust bunnies no longer greet me.
Lita follows like watching a specimen in a lab, one who just did the miraculous thing scientists had been hoping it would for years. “He kissed you, didn’t he? Just now out there after I interrupted…he kissed you!”
I lower myself onto our couch, “Yep,” and grab her bowl of popcorn, scooping a handful and staring at it. If I shove this into my mouth, the taste will override his. Is it worth it? No.
“Why are you staring at the popcorn?” Lita almost sits on our glass coffee table but realizes that might not be the brightest of ideas. So she pulls a velvet chair closer instead. “Eat the fucking popcorn. You’re freaking me out!”
“But…”
“Eat it!”
Starving, I shove all of it in at once, cheeks puffed like a squirrel’s in November. I feel so damn good that I’m holding back a laugh as I try to chew and swallow.
Lita is reaching to wrap her brain around this, voice filled with wonder. “As soon as you can talk again, tell me everything.” She flies up. “I need some wine. You want some wine? I want wine. I’ll get us some wine. I’m gone.”
After a whole ten seconds, she races back with the opener, a bottle of rosé, and two glasses held upside down by their stems. She mumbles to herself, turning the corkscrew with a fervor, “Why am I doing this before I wash my face? My face is itchy. Why don’t I go wash my freaking face?” Some people pour wine delicately, but not her. Not now. Not tonight. Light pink liquid splashes everywhere, and she hands me my glass with a final and authoritative, “Talk!”
“I met Wyatt Cocker.”
“No shit. I can see that. I have eyes. Explain.” She takes a drink, staring at me.
“He kissed me.”
Her wine splashes. “New information please!”
“I was on the date with Eddie and Wyatt followed us.”
“Why would he do that? Did he just see you, fall instantly in love, and start trailing you?”
On a laugh I explain, “No, they hit me with their car today. The police car. I didn’t fall. I was hit.” My roommate stares at me like I spoke another language, so I launch into the whole story, a ramble that has no punctuation and perhaps makes very little sense. She hangs on every word, taking sips while never once breaking eye contact.
“He wants to see me again.”
“They always say that.” Lita rises, sets down her glass angrily. “I have to wash off my face. It’s driving me nuts.”
The bathroom door slams.
I blink.
Oh no!
Nicholas.
I rambled my story to my curious roommate with zero awareness or empathy to how she felt about Wyatt’s older brother. I remembered it earlier, what made me forget now?
That kiss.
That amazing kiss.
It wiped out all of my reason.
“Lita, I’m sorry!”
The bathroom door flies open and through it I can see her left hand zip back to her face where she’s massaging water into the mask to loosen its hold. “I’m fine! I’m totally fine.”
“You slammed the door. Not normal.”
She rolls her eyes, “I suspected you were lying about that fall. It made no sense that the bruise would be that high!”
“Oh, Lita!”
“It’s fine. I get it now. You were trying to protect me. But don’t fucking lie to me again, Diana!”
“I won’t.”
“And don’t get too close to him! Don’t get attached!”
I drop new popcorn I had grabbed back into the bowl, appetite suspended.
Three warnings.
What a romantic start.
Couldn’t I have been excited about this for more than five minutes?
Maybe I am just a conquest.
I wouldn’t like that.
What girl would?
Perhaps some.
But I’m not exactly a stone wall on two legs. I couldn’t work with Seniors if I was. My heart is mooshy, gushy, and an absolute mess regarding anything to do with love.
Had some good relationships.
Not a ton of drama.
Also not a ton of wow.
This is the one — never had that.
Not yet.
But when I watch a movie and the love story is believable, raw, and true…you will see me crying. Not pretty crying where somebody could photograph it and I wouldn’t be mortified.
Three warnings.
That kiss.
Those hands.
That smirk.
Warn me all they want.
If this is a mistake…
It’s mine to make.
“You want to order pizza?” I call out, a smile spreading on my lips. “I’m suddenly hungry.”
CHAPTER 22
ANOTHER DAY - ACROSS TOWN IN BUCKHEAD
WYATT
G randpa Michael greets me at the door wearing grey slacks and a baby blue button-down, long sleeves rolled up his forearms. Age spots dot tanned skin, hair white and neatly trimmed. “Look at you in uniform. Should I be worried?”
“Everybody should be worried.”
He laughs and I walk into a bear hug, that ends with a few slaps on my back that I don’t return. Despite his being a virile old man, he is over eighty and I don’t want to be the one who puts him back in the hospital.
“Good to see you Grandpa. How you been?”
“Bored, if I’m honest.”
Grandma Nance strolls in from the kitchen wearing yellow pants, a white blouse and flats, her reading glasses perched on white hair she styles after the late Jackie Kennedy. Never use Onassis when referring to the former First Lady or you’ll hear a vehement, She may have loved him — I don’t know — but it’s John who is with her in Heaven.
Joining us in the foyer, she overhead what was said. “Michael, we just went to Vegas
