The Paradise Problem (45)
I wrap my arms around West’s torso. “My Ken’s job this week is Beach.”
“And Drinks,” he says, taking our empty glasses with a charming smile and leaving to get us refills.
The night goes on like this, easy and surprisingly fun, and it’s only after West and I say good night to Nicola Ricci, a vitamin corporation CEO and new emu farmer (thank you to the r/Emu subreddit for all of the amazing intel) that I realize how chatty I’ve been, while West played the part of bemused bystander.
When we’re finally alone again, West puts his hand on my lower back and leads me to the edge of the party. “Okay,” I start, “before you say it, I know I’ve been talking too much.” It doesn’t seem fair that I should get the giant, warm, sexy hand on my back when my entire job here was to smile and be polite, not chitchat and stand out.
West frowns. “Are you kidding? Everyone was completely charmed. Where did you learn all that anyway? Like emus having double eyelids and all that shit about Barbie legs?”
I shrug. “I read a lot. My old job at the Pick-It-Up stocked every magazine ever. And Reddit is both a trash fire and an invaluable resource.”
“I’m impressed, Green. You’re doing amazing.”
These words make my ocean-dwelling ovaries incinerate, but then a shadow looms over the sunshine: this is easy for me. Too easy. The realization makes me feel icky inside, because I suddenly can’t imagine my dad at all, let alone him laughing easily with these people, some of whom have never personally delivered their vehicle to a mechanic. Maybe I’m more like my mother than I thought.
But I don’t have more time to spiral, because the sound of clinking glasses rises in the room all around us. Over near the bar, Charlie and Kellan lean in, coming together in a kiss that is so perfect I wonder if she learned it in finishing school.
When they pull away, they do an adorable “gazing into each other’s eyes” move before Charlie gasps, clapping. In her tiny micro minidress, she attempts to jog-shuffle in her spiked heels—so much for no stilettos on the beach—over to the microphone. “Alex reminded me earlier today that our sweet Liam has been married to Anna for five years this August!”
A knowing smile pulls at Alex’s lips, and he lifts his glass. Fucking Alex.
Bouncing excitedly, Charlie waves to where we stand in the back, and the entire room turns to face us, seventy-five bleached white grins forming a spotlight. I am sure even without the benefit of a mirror in front of us that both West and I look like we have just emerged from a cave to bright sun. “We are so happy to have them with us!” Charlie cries. “Congratulations, you two!”
The clinking starts up again, but this time, I realize we’re the ones who are meant to be kissing.
“What do we do?” I say through my clenched-teeth smile.
“I think,” he says back through his own tight grin, “that we kiss.”
My jaw is cramping. I’m fake-smiling so hard. “Okay, great!”
“Yeah?” he asks, and his own smile is now straightening, his expression turning to determined focus. A big hand comes up, cupping my jaw, and I manage to get out a breathy “yeah” as my knees turn to jelly. His eyes drop to my mouth, and I hold my breath as he leans in.
I realize, just before we touch, that he’s about to erase everything I know about the act of kissing.
The first contact is just a brush of his lips over mine, the briefest sweep. I’m going to be devastated if that’s all I get, but then I hear the quietest moan escape his throat as he leans in again, pressing his soft, strong mouth to mine and taking my top lip between his, sucking gently before he turns his attention to my bottom one. With a smile forming against my kiss, West tilts his head and takes me with a heat I could not have predicted but which makes me feel like I’m falling backward into clouds.
Or maybe that’s the way he’s cupping the back of my head in one hand, holding me around my waist in the other, and dipping me so low I’m nearly on the floor.
The room is quiet and then erupts in cheers as West smoothly brings me back up in what has to be the sexiest move any man has ever pulled off. I feel the ground shake beneath me, but it isn’t the noise in the room. It’s the realization that whatever I thought kissing was before was a poor, diluted impostor to that.
“West Weston,” I say, resting my hands on his chest. “Who knew you had it in you?”
He smiles knowingly down at me. “I’m pretty sure you did.”
Fifteen
LIAM
The end of the kiss isn’t a passive closing off, an easy pulling away. It’s forced, it’s purposeful, and with the warmth of her lips on mine, it’s nearly impossible. But with all eyes still on us, I lift Anna up, making sure she’s steady on her feet, and resist the urge to go back for more.
The attendees murmur their approval, quiet calls of “adorable” and “romantic” and “dazzling” floating around us—as well as one shouted “That was hot as shit!,” thank you Blaire—but Anna and I just stare at each other in mute shock. I realize I need to appear to have done this a million times, not just this once, so I try to pull my features together even though the sensation of her full, pillow-soft lips against mine still feels like an earthquake rolling through me.