The Secret Recipe for Moving On Karen Bischer (read my book .txt) 📖

smile at him and he steps up on the bottom stair of the porch, and we’re almost even, height-wise. His eyes lock on mine, like they did at the party, and I’m suddenly nervous. I’m not sure what’s going on here, if it’s the giddiness of the night or the caffeine or the moonlight, but it feels like he’s going to kiss me. And I’m surprised that I want him to kiss me. No, I’m not surprised, I get it. I like him.

There it is. I like him.

But he has a girlfriend. A girlfriend who, if I remember correctly, stated, “You’re a better person than I am” earlier. And good people don’t think about kissing another girl’s boyfriend. Especially when they know how much it hurts to have another girl move in on your man.

“Agresti, can I—”

But I step back. “Don’t.”

Luke’s brow furrows. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t say what I think you’re going to say. Because I don’t think I could say no.”

“Damn, I guess I’m that transparent in wanting to kiss you, huh?” he says, running a hand through his hair and looking down.

The cattle-prod feeling comes rushing back, pulsating under my ribs, and my heart almost explodes right there.

“You have a girlfriend,” I say. It practically makes my throat ache making that come out.

Luke smiles softly. “No, I don’t. Greta and I broke up.”

I blink hard. “When? At the party?”

“We came to the party as friends. We broke up a week ago,” he says. “I’ve known for a while that I was having feelings for someone else, and I should’ve done it sooner.” He tugs at the bottom of my coat when he says this.

I want to believe him. But this all just seems convenient. Why would Greta go to a party with her recent ex? I didn’t even want to be in the same classroom as Hunter, let alone spend my free time with him.

Luke must take my silence for doubt because he sighs. “I was going to wait a little longer before I said anything to you, but I really had a great time with you tonight and I’d like more of that to happen. Sooner than later.”

Why? Why is he saying all this and looking so damn good in the light of my front porch? But then I suddenly flash back to the pained expression on Brynn’s face before. “He said you guys were done and you knew it.”

But Luke isn’t Hunter.

Luke steps up to the step below me and now I’m back to being shorter than him again. It’s like the air between us is crackling with some unseen fire because I realize I’m not even cold anymore.

“Do you, uh, like me?” he asks quietly.

I bite my lip. My heart is hammering and I know if I deny it, I’m still going to die of a heart attack on these steps and it would give my feelings away anyway. “I like you. A lot.” His face lights up when I say this.

“So, what do we do about that?” he asks, closing the gap of space between us by leaning in toward me slightly.

I can feel my pulse throbbing in my throat and I’m wondering if my blood (“Yes! Kiss him! Do thisssss!”) is trying to override my brain (“Isn’t it a little convenient that he’s saying they just broke up?”). “Whatever we do, I think we have to give the breakup a little more breathing room, okay? I felt like shit seeing Hunter and Brynn together right after we broke up, and I don’t want Greta to feel that way.”

Luke nods, and stops leaning. There’s still maybe, like, only a centimeter between us, though. “Okay, how long?”

He’s so close I can see the porch sconce perfectly reflected in his eyes. “Well, I don’t want Greta to go through what I did on The Buzz, either. Or you and me being made out to be a cheater and a home-wrecker or whatever BS Jared would concoct. So long enough for that to not be an issue.”

“But we know that’s not the case,” Luke says, his brow furrowing. “And I’m pretty sure Jared’s terrified of Greta, so he wouldn’t go after her.”

Luke isn’t Hunter.

“Still. We should at least give it a few weeks.”

“A few weeks, okay,” he says, gently taking a lock of hair that’s been trapped in front of my face by my knit hat. He expertly tucks it behind my ear, and I feel a rush of heat on that side of my face.

As if on reflex, I reach up and clutch Luke’s hand. He squeezes my cold fingertips, then shoves each of my hands in the front pockets of my coat. He rubs my arms up and down, as if trying to warm me up, and I finally lean completely into him. One, because it feels nice. Two, because he’s so warm and it’s cold as hell.

“I’m always saving you from frostbite, Agresti,” he says with a grin. Then he wrinkles his nose and looks so adorable that I feel my stomach get all warm, in a much better way than when the beer hit it before. “This is going to be a rough few weeks. I want to kiss you so bad right now.”

He isn’t Hunter. He isn’t Hunter. He isn’t Hunter.

I take a deep breath and look up at the sky, as if seeking permission from a higher power. I don’t know that I get an answer, but I know my willpower is almost at nil. “I think maybe we can make a provision for that. You know, like a test-drive.”

Luke’s eyes twinkle and he lowers his face ever so closer to mine. “And when does this test-drive start?”

I can’t take it anymore, I pull him by the open edges of his coat so now there’s absolutely no space between us, and he takes that as his cue to cup my face in his hands. Then, his lips brush mine, gently at first, then a little more insistent.

Good lord, he’s a wonderful kisser,