Page 22 of Light Me Up

"You think that's funny right now?"

He smirks, and I can't decide if I want to kiss him or throw him out of my house.

Before I can decide, Michael plants his ass on the stairs and groans loudly, rubbing his hands over his face and pulling at his hair. "This isn't happening," he says, the words muffled in his hands. He sounds exhausted. Exasperated.Amused?

With one hand held to his temple, he looks up at me. He holds my eyes for a moment, then turns his head to look at Ian, who's moved to the bottom of the staircase. He points at his best friend, holding his finger in the air in front of him accusingly. He looks like he has a lot to say, but he's holding it in, and rolls hislips inward before pulling his hand back. He raises both of his hands in front of him, almost in surrender.

"I literally don't know what to say."

I open my mouth to apologize, but Ian cuts me off.

"Don't do that. Don't say you're sorry." He's not grinning anymore. He looks hurt.

Ian turns his attention to Michael, boring into him with a gaze more serious than I knew he was capable of.

"For real?" Michael says.

"For real," Ian replies.

Michael turns to me. "Dad?"

My eyes burn, and I shrug helplessly. "He lights me up."

Because I can't help it, I am irrevocably in love with his idiotic, sarcastic, insanely hot best friend. I bite my lip and close my eyes to avoid letting any tears spill out.

When I open my eyes, I'm looking into the deep blue eyes of Ian. As much as I want to talk to Michael about his feelings on the matter, to apologize to him for sneaking around the way we have, this conversation is really between Ian and me. He deserves to hear it from me directly.

He beats me to it.

"You love me," Ian says firmly, like he's trying to tell me something I don't already know.

I roll my eyes. "Against my better judgement. Yeah."

His lips quirk, his signature devilish grin wobbly. His nose twitches, and I think he's trying to hold back tears, too.

I don't notice that either of us has moved until we're chest to chest. One hand balls in his rumpled t-shirt, and the fingers of my other hand thread into the hair at his nape, pulling his forehead against mine. He smells like coconut oil and a disaster waiting to happen. One of his hands digs into my waist, right on my so-called "love-handles" that he embarrassingly loves so much. The other cups my jaw, caressing the scruff with his thumb.

Our lips meet in the gentlest kiss I think we've ever shared. Our lips move together, slowly and confidently. At the slightest touch of his tongue against mine, a shiver that starts in my chest sends gooseflesh up the back of my neck. I pull him closer with a deep rumble, tilting my head to deepen the kiss, tasting salt from our combined tears.

Michael clears his throat, and we stop kissing abruptly, but I keep my hold on Ian.Michael stands. "Look, no offense, but I've seen quite enough." He turns to walk back up the stairs, shaking his head. The way his shoulders are moving, I think he's laughing.

My own shoulders relax a little, and I look up at Ian.

"Stay," I say, my voice raspy with emotion. "I don't know how to do this, how to make this work. But I'm not ready to let you go."

He nods, and all the tension in my body releases. Pulling him against me roughly, I kiss him with everything I’ve got.

EPILOGUE- IAN

"Dude," Mike groans.

"What?"

"Seriously?"

I look over at my best friend and lift my shoulders to my ears, giving him an incredulous look. "I don't see what the problem is."

"I'm not going to propose to my girlfriend while 'balls deep with her bent over the edge of the rooftop bar'."

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