What’s in a Kiss? by Lauren Kate EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Lauren Kate
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 3.7 MB
- Price: Free
YOU KNOW I HATE THIS RIGHT? MASHA SAYS RIDING SHOTGUN
in my Nissan LEAF as I squeeze into a parallel parking spot two sizes too
small. It’s a brilliant blue morning in Los Angeles, but Masha doesn’t know
that—she’s blindfolded with the faded green bandanna my mom used to
wear to weed her begonias.
“You’ve made your thoughts on bachelorette parties clear,” I say,
squinting to read the four different parking signs through the fronds of a
palm tree—if there’s a way to get towed in this town, I’ll find it.
Damn. Thursday street sweeping.
“Luckily,” I tell Masha as I throw my car into reverse, “twenty years of
friendship has taught me to read between your lines. What you hate are
penis-shaped plastic straws, male strippers, and Sex Position Bingo—”
Masha gags.
“Because,” I continue, “you’re still scarred from your sister-in-law’s
bachelorette.”
“The stripper sat on my lap,” Masha says. “And grinded.”
“I know, babe—”
“Then my sister-in-law sat on his lap. And grinded.”
I glance at my watch—three minutes to eleven—then boldly swerve into
the marina’s paid lot.
It’s like there’s a hole in my bank account.
But what’s an additional thirty dollars for parking, compared with your
best friend’s happiness? When I tug off Masha’s blindfold in a minute, the
view of the Pacific will make a much better reveal than a side street dental
office.
I park the car and reach into my back seat for the rusty green tackle box
I stocked this morning with plastic lures and fishing line.
The cold nose of my terrier, Gram Parsons, nudges my hand. He loves
to fish and is eager to get out of the car and consider the subtleness of the
sea. Me too.
I place the tackle box on Masha’s lap and take a breath.
“Here’s what you don’t hate,” I say. “Intimate gatherings, Pabst Blue
Ribbon, beef short ribs, nineties R & B . . . and fishing.”
I reach for the cooler, borrowed from my friend Werner, who owns a
Greek-fusion restaurant in West Hollywood. Since I’m perennially short on
cash, sometimes Werner gives me lunch shifts at Mount Olympus, and
recently . . . there may have been some lighthearted petting in the walk-in
fridge. But that’s neither here nor there. What’s here—what’s now—is my
best friend on the eve of her wedding; my favorite pup, decked out in the
turquoise life vest that makes him look like a doggie briefcase; my dad’s old
tackle box; and this cooler, complete with Bluetooth speaker.
I crank Toni Braxton’s “Breathe Again” and undo Masha’s blindfold.
“Mrs. Morsova,” I say grandly, because I love how Masha and her
fiancé are making a legal mash-up of their last names—come Saturday Eli
Morgan and Masha Kuzsova will be Mr. and Mrs. Morsova. “Your deeply
personalized, two-woman bachelorette party awaits. So, let’s fucking throw
down!”
Masha blinks in sudden sunlight—then screams like she won the
Powerball. She lets fly her beautiful, massive smile and throws her arms
around me.
“BBS, Liv,” she says.
“BBS, Mash.”
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