Page 91 of Nothing Like the Movies

“Was it?” She opened her eyes, and a thousand butterflies went wild in my stomach, because the way she was looking at me was… God.

It was just,God, all I could ever want in the world.

But it disappeared in an instant because I saw her remember.

Iwatchedas she recalled my sins.

She jerked away from me and sat up straight, clearing her throat and tucking her hair behind her ears. “Um.”

All the soft vulnerability left her face, replaced by a raised chin and a hard swallow. I flexed my fingers, still feeling the tangle of her hair’s softness wrapped around them, and I sat up straighter too. “I’m sorry about the whole nightmare freak-out, by the way.”

“Don’t apologize,” she said, shaking her head butnotlooking at me. “I’m the one who let myself in.”

I’d been so disoriented that I hadn’t even registered the logistics of her presence. My eyes swept over her, and I only just now realized she was wearing pink flannel pajama pants, like she’d been roused from her bed. “Yeah, uh, whydidyou do that? I mean, I’m glad you did because you dragged me out of a whopper of a nightmare, but did you need something?”

“Well,” she said, shrugging like she was embarrassed. “I guess I just wanted to make sure you weren’t succumbing to alcohol poisoning, since you were drinking alone.”

So she thinks I’m pathetic.

“Ah,” I said, nodding. “Pictured me drowning in my own vomit, did you?”

“Exactly,” she agreed, also nodding.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. I am a pathetic, drunk loser.

Perfect.

“Well, thanks for checking on me.” I gritted my teeth, mortified that she’d witnessed my shitshow. “It was very thoughtful.”

“Of course,” she said, climbing to her feet. “Are you going to be okay now?”

“I’m a little disappointed by how sober I’ve become,” I said, trying hard to sound casual. “But yes.”

“Okay, well then, I’m going to take off,” she said, nodding her head and keeping her eyes away from mine.

I moved to stand, to walk her out, but she held up a hand and said, “No need. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I watched from my spot on the floor as she left, taking those stairs as quickly as she possibly could, and I felt it in my gut when the front door slammed behind her.

“What thehell?” I said, the words echoing off the walls of the empty living room. If it wasn’t for the faint scent of her perfume and the way I could still feel her bottom lip between my teeth, I might think it’d just been a dream.

Buthell no, it wasn’t a dream.

I climbed to my feet and went over to the window, the one with the perfect view of the Buxbaum house. It was dark over there, as if everyone was sound asleep, but I knewshewasn’t.

She was probably toeing off her shoes in the dark entryway and petting Fitz, second-guessing her impulsive move to check on me.

I wonder if she’s thinking about that almost-kiss.

Shehadto be, I thought, because thatalmost-kissbetween us felt like so much more than so manyfull-onkisses between other people.

I’d barely been awake, but I could’ve been in a coma and it wouldn’t have mattered. I didn’t need to be conscious to know that Liz’s mouth was underneath mine, a breath away, and her eyes were on my lips, like she’dwantedme to kiss her.

Want.What a ridiculous word.

Because thewantthat I felt when she’d lifted her lips to melike an offering was so much greater than four pathetic letters. I mean, people wanted things like coffee and new cars, right? How could the same word be used for what I felt when she looked at my mouth?

It couldn’t.

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