Page 14 of Lucky Star

“By that point, yes. From the moment you held my face in your hands and caressed my cheek. It was like my brain short-circuited, and when it reset, everything became crystal clear. Everything that happened between us, happened because I wanted it to.” She took a deep breath and then continued, “But apparently you didn’t.”

Holy fucking shit.

I’d been operating under some very misguided notions about what had happened that night. If she was telling the truth, I hadn’t taken advantage of her. Sarah hadn’t given herself to me without realizing what she was doing. Her mind hadn’t been incapacitated by the tequila we’d consumed.

“I thought … I didn’t mean … I never wanted that.”

Unfortunately, my inability to form a coherent sentence made Sarah misconstrue what I was trying to say.

“Do what? You never wanted to have sober sex with me??” Her words dripped with venom.

I didn’t want to act like the injured party here, but the fact that she could think for even one second that I would use her like that made my blood boil. She was the best damn thing in my life, the most important person I had in L.A., and never in a million years would I have fucked her like it didn’t mean anything.

But that’s exactly what you did, an ugly voice in my head broke in.

“No, god no. Sarah, if you don’t believe anything else I tell you, please believe that.”

“But isn’t that what you’ve been trying to say this entire time? That what we did was a mistake? That it should never have happened? Is it because you’re ashamed that someone like you would stoop to being with someone like me?”

She didn’t have to explain what she meant. I’d watched through the years as her mother had tried to beat her down, proposing one crash diet after another. Personally, I loved Sarah’s strong, womanly curves. She was my own personal Marilyn Monroe, but I wasn’t naïve. I knew the world we inhabited had moved on from the ideal to a new one. Every day she—and all the women who looked like her—were encouraged to starve themselves into a size zero. I needed her to understand my reaction had nothing to do with that.

“When …” I stopped and looked at her solemnly. “When you freaked out about the condom, it snapped me out of my daze, I guess you could call it. Up until then, I’d pretty much been operating on autopilot. I assumed you were too.”

Shit. That hadn’t come out right. My whole apology was getting worse and worse by the second.

“What I mean to say is, I thought I took advantage of you. It’s why I couldn’t talk about it and why I’ve stayed away. I’ve been so ashamed of what I did.”

“What do you mean?” Her voice was barely audible.

“All night I told myself I was treading on dangerous ground, and I needed to be careful. I tried so hard not to give in to what I felt because I didn’t want to risk our friendship. But no matter what argument I came up with, I just as easily tossed it away. Even as I kissed you, I was pissed at myself for doing it, let alone … everything else. I don’t have sex without a condom, but there I was, sliding into you like it was my right.” I swallowed. “I thought I took advantage of you and it made me sick.”

As my words faded, Sarah started crying again. Thank god it wasn’t ugly, chest wracking sobs like before, because I didn’t think I could handle those right now. Instead, a slow progression of quiet tears cascaded down her face.

Quickly, she swiped them away. “You didn’t take advantage of me, Cameron. I wanted you like I’d never wanted anything else in my life.” She refused to look me in the eye as she continued, her words a raw mixture of hope and anguish. “I don’t know how you didn’t know. Maybe between the two of us, I’m the better actor.” She laughed, and something tight and black unfurled in my chest. “The truth is, I’m in love with you.”

She dropped her eyes, and the car went silent except for our labored breathing, the windows long turned to fog-covered glass.

I could hear my heart beating in my ears, feel it hammering in my chest.

“Please look at me.”

“I don’t know what I’ll see if I do, and that terrifies me.”

“Sarah,” I begged.

Slowly, hesitantly, she met my eyes and the fierceness of her expression stole my breath. Her own hitched and she licked her lips.

“Oh, Sarah,” I said, my tone playfully exasperated. “How did you not know?”

“Know what?” The hope in her voice nearly undid me.

A small smile spread across my face, and I leaned forward to rest my hand on her leg. “I’ve been in love with you since that first night at the diner.”

She brought her hand to her mouth and shook her head.

I’d prevented myself from imagining how this conversation might go, too afraid that I’d lay my emotions bare only for her to tell me she didn’t feel the same. I hadn’t dared let myself hope she could ever love me too. But now I had more than hope: I had the words.

“You should see your face,” I remarked, before crawling across the car. My left hand splayed flat on the window behind her, while my injured right hand hung limply over the steering wheel. I kissed her cheeks, her nose, her eyelids—tender little touches that lead me to her lips. “Kiss me, Sarah,” I muttered from between our touching mouths.

And then she did. God, how she kissed me.

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