Page 23 of Made Over by Meredith

I shoved my hands into the pockets of my pants, afraid to grab her and kiss her again. Knowing that I couldn’t hear anymore of her lies about what she supposedly wanted or thought she needed.

“So, how was the date?” she asked, her voice back to normal. As if this was some stupid tutoring session.

“Good.” When she raised her brow, I gave the answer she’d given me. “Reallygood.”

“Yeah?” She nodded a few times. “That’s great. Really great.”

“Mm-hmm.” I kicked at loose macadam. “She’s exactly the type of girl everyone expects me to be with.”

“Yeah. She’s perfect for you,” Meredith agreed, toying with her necklace.

“Yep.”

We stared at each other, nodding, like two idiots who didn’t just experience a like-altering kiss.

But I wasn’t the one in denial.

She was.

“You and Celeste have a connection.” She forced a smile so fake it made my molars grind. “Obviously.”

“Obviously,” I echoed.

“You should definitely explore that. See where it leads.”

“Yeah. Of course.” If for no other reason than to let this brilliant woman stew in her own dumb ideas.

“When you go out with her again, kiss her like…like you kissed me, and…” She licked her lips, gaze darting all over the place. “You’ll definitely be out of the friend-zone. So far past it, you won’t even be able to see it.”

The very idea of kissing someone who wasn’t Meredith made my stomach ache, but I wasn’t going to push it. Not tonight. Not when my head was fogged up with the memory of her in my arms.

But she could give me all the direction she wanted. Didn’t mean I had to follow it.

She’d been throwing up defenses to her heart for a long time, certainly longer than I’d known her. It wasn’t possible to break them down in the few times we’d been together, let alone with one kiss.

But I was patient. I was willing.

She deserved that. Of the man who ultimately made it through, she deserved to have someone who wanted to do the heavy lifting, who broke down every brick she built up.

I was proud of her strength.

Even if I did find it maddening.

“Come on,” I said, walking around to the passenger side of my car. “I’ll take you home.”

She followed silently and slid into the seat, keeping her face forward after I closed the door on her. But when I dropped behind the steering wheel, she immediately helped herself to tuning the Bluetooth to her cell phone, cueing up her music.

Like this was her car.

Like she owned it.

Hell.

She could if she wanted to.

She could own me, too.

We didn’t speak on the ride back to her apartment, which was fine with me. She stewed while I kept my need to fix at bay. Meredith didn’t need fixing or putting together like a puzzle. She needed time and space to figure out what I already did.

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