Page 40 of Don’t Go Breaking My Heart

“I can see why,” she sighed. “Last year I went on the worst date ever.”

“Yeah, what happened?”

“He showed up an hour late, first of all,” Merritt began, shaking her head as if the memory physically pained her. “And he didn’t even apologize. Just rolled in, all smiles, asking if I was ready to have the best night of my life.”

I snorted. “Sounds like a charmer.”

“Oh, it gets better,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “He took me to a fast-food joint. Tried to convince me that their limited-time sauce was some kind of culinary innovation.”

“No way.”

“Yes! And then, he spent the entire meal talking about his ex. How they broke up, what he thought she was doing wrong, you name it. I mean, I was practically a therapist for the night.”

“That’s rough,” I said, unable to suppress a chuckle. “Did you see him again after that?”

“Not a chance.” She laughed, shaking her head vigorously. “I told him I needed some ‘me’ time to recover from our ‘date’ and blocked his number as soon as I got home.”

“I can’t blame you,” I replied.

“You know what’s really bad?”

“I’m afraid to ask,” I said with a laugh.

“That was probably one of the better dates I had been on.”

I couldn’t remember the last time I had laughed so hard. Better than that, I felt completely comfortable. Like I belonged.

“You can’t drive,” she said, setting her empty glass on the floor.

“I’m fine,” I said, though the wine had gone straight to my head.

“You’re not,” she argued, standing up and putting her hands on her hips. “You’re staying here.”

“I’m not,” I countered, rising to my feet as well.

She moved to block the door, planting herself firmly in front of it. Her eyes flashed with determination, and for a second, I was transported back to when we were teenagers. We’d had a fight. About what, I couldn’t even remember. I had tried to leave to cool off. She’d done the exact same thing, standing in my way and refusing to let me go. She was tiny but mighty.

We’d been stubborn as hell back then, both of us too proud to back down. I remembered how it ended—me scooping her up, tossing her on the bed, and tickling her until she was gasping for air between fits of laughter. It had been one of those moments you didn’t forget, no matter how much time passed.

I grinned at the memory.

“Whatever you’re thinking, don’t.” Merritt burst into a fit of drunken giggles.

I rubbed my hands together, dusted them off on my jeans, and blew on them like a gymnast prepping for the bars. “Oh, I’m thinking it.”

“Kannon,” she warned, but the corners of her mouth twitched, betraying her amusement.

I didn’t give her a chance to react. I lunged, scooping her up and throwing her over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She let out a squeal. Her fists pounded weakly against my back as I carried her into the living room.

“Put me down!” she demanded, but she was laughing too hard to sound serious.

“Say please,” I teased, spinning us in a slow circle.

“Please, you jerk!” she shrieked, her laughter bubbling over.

I carefully put her on the floor, but before I could make my escape, she grabbed the back of my shirt and yanked me down with her. We hit the floor in a tangle of limbs, both of us laughing so hard we could barely breathe.

When the laughter finally subsided, I found myself flat on my back, Merritt straddling me, her hands braced on my chest. Her hair was a mess, her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were bright with a mix of exhilaration and something else. Something I wasn’t sure I wanted to name.