Page 16 of In Too Deep

My mouth hangs open as I finish, shocked by my verbal diarrhea. I haven’t even admitted those things to myself and can’t believe I just confessed them to Lawrence.

His eyes widen, a hopefulness crossing his features. “Well…yeah it is, actually. Though, I never really thought you’d admit it.” He moves to invade my space again, his eyes cautiously observing me. “We don’t have to keep torturing ourselves. We can be together.”

My head spins as I stare into his dazzling eyes, the shake of my head feeble. “No, we can’t. It’s too late.”

“Fuck that.” His fingers trail down my arm as his face gets hazardously close to mine, and a shiver runs through my body. “As long as there’s still air in our lungs, we still have a chance.”

“I’m with Spencer.” There’s not nearly as much conviction in my tone as I intended, my words coming out in pants.

“That doesn’t mean you should be.”

My entire body feels like it’s on fire as his breath caresses my lips, and before I even know what’s happening, my mouth crashes into his. Lawrence’s arms engulf me, and his body presses into mine as my tongue eagerly collides with his.

He tastes like maple syrup, his lips like two perfect pillows, his mouth warm and inviting. Kissing him is everything I always thought it would be and more. The part of me that knows this is wrong is lost in the euphoric state of my body, heart, and soul.

When the magnitude of what I’m doing finally sinks in, I shove Lawrence away, breaking our kiss. We’re both breathing heavily as he eyes me with worried concern.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Cat. I didn’t mean to—”

I hold up my hand to stop him, working to catch my breath. “No, it’s my fault. I’m the one in a relationship, and I’m the one who kissed you. But I think you really need to take me back to my car. Right now.”

He looks so forlorn as he nods, his face falling, not attempting to stop me this time as I rush out the door.

10

The water in my shower is as hot as it will go, but it’s still not warm enough to wash away the memory of last night. Sleep evaded me after I got home, my mind replaying an unending loop of the moment my lips connected with Lawrence’s. I tossed and turned, feeling overloaded with a mixture of guilt and excitement. At five, I called my boss to let her know I wouldn’t be in today before finally drifting off, only to be woken a couple hours later by a very vivid sex dream. One in which my boyfriend did not have the starring role.

It was that kiss. That fucking kiss. Why in the hell had I kissed Lawrence? What was I thinking? Actually, I don’t think there was much thought involved at all. The kiss was fueled by years of longing, a need so intense nothing else seemed to matter. Not even the consequences.

I’ve had my fair share of first kisses, but none of them compared to kissing Lawrence. Even after all the years I spent daydreaming about his lips, it lived up to the hype in my head.

The ride from Grier’s back to my car was extremely uncomfortable. It was like we were both afraid to say or do anything, both trying to wrap our heads around everything that had transpired between us. Kiss aside, we both said some intense shit. I’m not sure if it’s easier or harder believing he’s been thinking about me all these years. If that’s true, and if he’s really loved me all this time, my heartache and suffering were for nothing. Why would he do that?

My phone chimes again, alerting me to another text message, and I turn off the shower. It’s been going off like crazy the entire time I’ve been in here, likely Lori being Lori. I quickly dry off and wrap the towel around me before stepping out of the shower to check my phone.

Lori: Hello.

Are you still asleep?

Are you dead?

Are you ignoring me?

Rolling my eyes, I type a response.

Me: I’m fine. Sorry, just got out of the shower. I’ll call you in a few minutes.

I place the phone on the counter, my mind wandering back to Lawrence as I comb out my hair. He said so many things last night I’ve longed to hear, but I’m not sure if I can let myself believe him. And it isn’t something I should be considering at all. Despite my behavior, I’m in a committed relationship.

My tired eyes burn in protest as I pop my contacts in before heading into my closet for a pair of pajamas. I’ve no more than finished slipping a t-shirt over my head when my doorbell rings, and I groan.

“Damn it, Lori.”

It doesn’t surprise me that she showed up here. Though my best friend would never admit it, she’s a bit of a worrier. Forgoing underwear, I grab a pair of plaid pajama pants and pull them on before scurrying to my front door.

Not even bothering to check the peephole, I open the door.

“Jesus, Lor—” My words die on my dry tongue when a pair of teal eyes greet me. “Lawrence? What? How did?”

---