Page 38 of One Kiss Isn't Enough

My purse dangles from one corner of the coffee table. The garments scattered around the room tell a definite story about what happened last night. Two people couldn’t get enough of each other, and they couldn’t even aim for the furniture when they took their clothes off.

Not that I need the clothes to tell me anything. I remember how amazing it felt to be in Jackson’s arms. I remember how much I wanted him. Kissing him woke something up in me. Something that’s been bubbling under the surface for way too long.

I step into my clothes quickly and quietly, then snatch my phone up from the ground. There’s a text from Cheryl. It’s from last night, about half an hour after I left the bar with Jackson.

Cheryl: You did it!! Good for you!! Which of the guys did you go home with?

I text her back with trembling hands. My pulse races as I press send.

Aubree: Don’t hate me. Jackson. I’m at Jackson’s house. I spent the night here. I’m never going to be able to look him in the eye again.

Never mind that I’ll have to look Cheryl in the eye. She’ll know I slept with her brother. She did egg me on, but it was a joke. It was all supposed to be harmless fun. My stomach does a nervous flip. I won’t be able to stand it if he walks out here all hot and handsome and plays it off like a joke.

Like it didn’t mean anything. With both hands running down my face, I wish I could just get in my car and drive away. My fingers fly across my phone ordering my escape car.

My heart pounds as I glance over my shoulder back at Jackson. I don’t think I’d be able to play it cool if he sauntered out and pretended it meant nothing.

I can see things going both ways. Next Sunday could be stiff, with us walking on eggshells and all our friends wondering what’s going on. Or it could be normal, with both of us pretending to be comfortable. Like it was just a part of the flirtatious game we play.

Or maybe …

Maybe we could be holding hands at the bar. Maybe Jackson could be there as my real boyfriend and not just a decoy for the men who wanted to buy me a drink.

The phone buzzes in my hand and I clutch it to my chest, listening hard for any sign he’s waking up. One beat passes and then another of me staring at him like a weirdo.

Without any sign he’s woken up, I check my phone.

Cheryl: It was just one night. No big deal. You guys got it out of your system ;)

Out of my system. I swallow thickly.

Reality crashes down around me. Not a soul knows about the crush. The genuine feelings I have for him. No one is going to understand and nothing is going to be all right.

What was I thinking? This isn’t the start of a new relationship. This was a one-night stand. In fact, it was a mistake.

My throat tightens. That’s exactly what Jackson will say. It was a mistake for the two of us to jump into bed together. Our friendship is too important to screw it up with emotions.

What a mess.

The only way to begin cleaning it up is to leave before he gets out of bed. As if on cue, my phone informs me the getaway car is approaching. It’s a little cowardly, I know, to run away after a one-night stand. But if that’s all it is, then it won’t be anything new. That’s what you do when things aren’t serious. You go back to your life before they get serious.

I hesitate at the door, my stomach sinking. He might worry about me when he wakes up.

Maybe I should leave a note. I half turn back to the kitchen, but stop myself.

What would the note say?

I had a nice time last night—see you at football!!

Or …

We should talk about this soon so it’s not awkward.

Or …

No hard feelings, whatever happens.

Each idea I have is worse than the last. Shit. It’s better if I don’t say anything. It’s best if I don’t look back. It’s better if I chalk it up to a tipsy mistake and leave it in the past where it belongs.

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