Chapter 27
Yeah, right. Like that’ll happen.
Someone enters the lounge behind him—Jamie hears the faint squeal of floorboards in the hall, then the groan of paneling as someone leans against the doorframe. He hopes it’s Thad. His lips still tingle, and he wants to ask if maybe they can do it again. He’s never kissed a guy before, not on the lips, not anywhere. The only real kiss he’s ever had—not counting family, of course—was a girl named Molly in the sixth grade. That one was way too sloppy, and if he remembers correctly, she hauled off and punched him in the chest afterwards, so he knew right off the bat it wasn’t love.
What would happen if he kissed Thad on the lips? The mere thought makes him swoon.
But it isn’t Thad who joins him in the lounge; it’s Mark. Stepping into view, he sinks to the opposite end of the sofa and follows Jamie’s gaze to the television. After a moment, he points out, “You know the sound’s off.”