Seeing as it was my first date with Kline, I knew this wasn’t an optimal situation. In a matter of a few minutes and one perfect, sexy kiss, I had gone from smiling and offering up charming, flirty responses to sounding like I was talking around a wiener in my mouth.
Lime juice had sabotaged me. It had been years since I’d come in contact with the allergy-inducing demon. And the last time, it was way worse. My throat had started to close up because I had ingested it, whereas this was just contact swelling.
Swallowing a few times, I confirmed my throat was breezy and clear.
But the way Kline was trying not to react to my appearance?
Well, that had me rummaging through my purse and getting my compact out. Flipping the clasp, I opened the mirror, coming face-to-face with something that could nauseate horror movie enthusiasts. Bright red blowfish lips consumed my face. The skin was stretched so tight I feared something might burst.
Bottom line: It was bad. Real fucking bad. Kylie Jenner’s mouth on steroids bad.
“Ah ma gaw,” I gasped, tongue still swelling by the second.
I glanced at myself in the mirror again, which was a big, fat mistake of epic proportions. The swelling seemed hell-bent on consuming my entire face.
“Tis is ba! Tis is so ba!” I grabbed the paper bag off the seat and pulled it over my head.
On a Britney Spears’ scale of embarrassment, I had proverbially flashed my beaver to millions of people.
For the love of God, the inflammation is going to my brain. I can only think in celebrity speak. My allergic reaction had turned me into Leslie.
“Georgia, please, don’t hide your pretty face.” Kline removed the paper bag, staring back at me with serious concern.
Pffffffft. Pretty? All forms of pretty had fled the building the second I had contracted elephantiasis of the face.
I averted my eyes from his and focused on removing the cellophane wrapping from the Benadryl. “Somonabith,” I cursed, fumbling with the childproof cap.
He gently took the bottle out of my hands, detaching the cap with ease, and handed it back to me. “We need to get you to an emergency room. St. Luke’s is just around the corner.”
Oh, hell no. Out of all of the emergency rooms in New York, I was not going to that one.
Well, unless my reaction gets worse—then I’d reconsider. I’d face the embarrassment and my brother’s incessant teasing for a shot of epinephrine over not breathing at all. I’m not a complete moron.
I shook my head frantically. “Ma brudder. Nob way.”
He scrunched his brow up in confusion.
“Nobe. Nob hobitals.”
My brother Will was finishing up his ER residency at St. Luke’s, and I knew for a fact he was elbow deep in a twenty-four-hour call shift. If I walked into his ER looking like this, I’d never live it down.
“But—”
“Uh-uh. Nob habbenin’,” I cut him off, resolute.
And to solidify my decision, I tipped the bottle of Benadryl to my goliath lips and knocked back as much as I could.
“Shit! Georgia!” Kline grabbed the bottle from my hands, panicked. “That’s too much. Way, way too much.”
I shrugged, reaching for the discarded paper bag and pulling a pen from my purse.
No ERs needed, I’ll be fine, I wrote, holding it out to him.
He frowned. “I’m really worried.”
I promise, I’ve been through this before. The Benny will do the trick.
I reassured, hating seeing him so anxious.
His mouth offered a wry grin. “Benny?”
I nodded, my neck doing its best impression of a bobblehead doll. It was safe to say, the antihistamine was kicking in.
Yeah, Benny and I go way back. I promise I’ll be fine in a few hours.
He assessed my face. “Pretty sure you drank way too much Benny.”
I shook my head, hiding my lips with my free hand.
Just stop looking at me until the Benny kicks in. I’m sorry this is the worst first date ever.
He took the pen out of my grip and pulled the bag into his lap. His hand moved in fluid motions as he scribbled something down and then slid it back to me.
Just stop looking at me until the Benny kicks in. I’m sorry this is the worst first date ever.
This is the BEST first date ever.
“Thank you for coming with me tonight.” He offered a smile—a real smile, not the I’m trying to smile, but holy shit, you look bad kind of smile he was showcasing before. “And, Georgia.” Kline touched my cheek. “Even with an allergic reaction, you still have the power to take my breath away. You’re gorgeous, sweetheart. Swollen lips and all, you’re still gorgeous.”
I stared back at him, speechless. There was still so much I didn’t know about Kline, but my gut told me, at the root of his soul, he was a good man. A sweet, kind, and undeniably good man.
Despite the lime juice fiasco, I’m glad I’m here too.
My eyelids started to feel heavy, my lashes blinking past the fog. I leaned my head back on the seat.
“You okay?” He wrapped his arm around my shoulder, tucking me into his side.
I wasn’t vomiting and I could still breathe, so I muttered, “Uh-huh,” as I nuzzled into him. “Jus a lil sweepy.”