Page 55 of What's Left of Us

If he says no, he’s lying. Because what does that make us then?

“I have casual sex,” he answers nonchalantly. “Unattached commitments that are very clear from the start. Like I said, I don’t fuck my friends. That gets messy.”

Didn’t he call us friends, though?

Something funny bubbles in my stomach. If he doesn’t sleep with his friends, what does he consider me? “So, we’re not friends?” I find myself asking, nervousness hollowing my words as I anxiously wait for his answer.

His brown eyes, which are softer than my father’s, scan my face. “No, Peaches.” My heart plummets to the bottom of my rib cage. “We’re definitely more than friends. Trouble is, I don’t know what that means yet.”

Oh.Oh.“Maybe I should stay here.”

I know his family means a lot to him, so I don’t want them to misunderstand whatever this is, if not even Lincoln or I can define it.

“I already told them we’d swing by,” he says, moving his hand away from my face and straightening. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t think they’d be that far off to assume something anyway.”

All I can do is blink.

“Normally, I know where I stand with people,” he admits. “But I think you need to figure out what you want before we can make any rash decisions. I’m a patient guy. So until you know what that is, we’ll go eat some pizza with my family.”

I don’t know how I feel about that.

About any of this.

“Linc…” I stop myself, knowing that convincing him to let me stay here is pointless. “Never mind.”

By the time he’s done with his shower, he comes out and sees me holding up a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label that I bought online.

During one of our nights out, he told me that it’s his favorite whiskey, but that he doesn’t buy it often because it’s pricy.

“To bring with us,” I say when he looks between me and the whiskey with furrowed brows.

He blinks. “How did you buy that? That’s expensive liquor, Peaches.”

I never told him that I figured out how to sell my belongings on an app I downloaded. I figured he’d tell me not to and then try covering all the costs for us both, just like he’d insisted for the phone bill.

“I sold a couple things,” I murmur, shifting on my feet. “It’s not a big deal. I wanted to contribute so you don’t always have to.”

Lincoln stares at me for the longest time before his eyes dip to the bottle again. Then he says something under his breath that sounds a lot like “fuck it” before walking over, grabbing my face, and kissing me.

It’s…intense.

Not demanding or rushed or hard.

It’s different than what I’m used to, like all the other kisses we’ve shared are somehow incomparable to this.

And before I know it, it’s over.

Before I can say a word, he leans his forehead against mine and shakes his head. Fingers twitching in my hair, he releases me. His voice is hoarse when he murmurs, “Yeah. Definitely not friends.”

I’m not sure what flashes in his eyes, but his touch is tender, his fingers threading with my free hand as those eyes drop to the bottle that I soon learn is his father’s favorite whiskey too.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Lincoln / Present

The ladder creaksunder my weight as I reach up to secure the next section of Christmas lights above the window. “Remind me why we’re doing thisnow?”

Hannah watches me from the ground, squinting past the sunlight beaming down on us. She uses her hand to shield her eyes. “Because Christmas is in two weeks. Duh.”

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