Page 86 of Something Like Fate

“Yeah. It’s getting late. We should probably go to bed.” I stand and try to hide my mild disappointment with a stretch. He follows me down the hall toward my bedroom, which is right across the hall from the bathroom.

He leans in and whispers, “I can hear Mei snoring from here. No wonder you can’t sleep.” I’m standing so close, his breath tickles my ear, and my body tingles.

Shit. Maybe things won’t be going back to normal.

“Right? It’s so loud,” I say, skin getting hot. God, I wish he would touch me again.

He runs his hand over the back of his neck, contemplative. “You’re welcome to stay on the pullout if you want to.” He squeezes his eyes shut when he realizes how that sounds. “Not in that way. I mean, unless—I just meant so you can get a good sleep. That’s all.”

My stomach barrel-rolls and I study him, trying to discern what he meant by that. Did he just invite me to stay in the same bed as him?Or is he simply extending the offer as a courtesy? It’s impossible to say. His breathing isn’t all heavy and labored like the other night, but it’s also not entirely casual.

We linger in the hallway, just inches from each other. The frayed thread between us pulls tighter than before, in dire risk of breaking. If I really wanted to, I could close that distance. Why can’t I stop thinking about kissing him again? My heart hammers in my chest and I wonder if he feels it too. A million thoughts race through my mind. The way his hand felt squeezing mine. The weight of him over me as we joined together.

No.

We’re supposed to be going back to being friends. Being us. We can’t let this become a habit. If it does, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to break it. And it may be the thing that breaks us.

“It’s okay, I’ll survive,” I whisper, already regretting the decision.

He just nods, like I knew he would. Teller would never push.

“Okay, see you tomorrow.” His gaze flicks down to my lips and he reaches for my finger, pulling me toward him. But he doesn’t pull me in for a kiss. Instead, he wraps his arms around me and holds me with just the right amount of pressure. Somehow, this feels even more illicit than a kiss, with our bodies pressed together. I bury my face in his neck and inhale that clean, gentle Teller smell. In his arms, my insides bubble with a feeling I can only describe as happiness in the purest sense.

“Good night, Lo,” he says into my hair, voice low and husky.

I want nothing more than to pop onto my toes and kiss him, and I think he wants me to.

I blink up at him as our breaths meld, waiting a second for things to feel awkward again. For the alarms to go off inside me, reminding me how fragile our friendship is. A jolt to warn me what will happen if we dare cross that boundary again.

But it feels startlingly safe and steady. So safe, I feel at home. Even when we’re thousands of miles away.

But as his face moves closer to mine, I panic. What the hell are we doing? After last time, we’d been stilted, awkward, avoided eye contact. And while now things feel normal, we’ve only slapped a Band-Aid on a fresh wound. Crossing the line again will only deepen the scarring. At what point will the damage be irreversible?

“Um, well, good night!”

He steps back, seemingly amused. “Good night, Lo.”

In an effort to retreat as fast as possible, I somehow manage to stumble over my own foot.

“You almost fell,” he says with a soft chuckle, stabilizing me by the arm.

I’m falling, that’s for sure. Only it’s not for my soulmate.

30

This is bad. How have I let myself catch feelings—real feelings—for Teller?

It’s not that lightning bolt of infatuation I felt with Caleb. No. It’s more like a song that’s been playing in the background, waiting for me to slow down and listen hard enough to learn the lyrics. It’s a simmer of affection that’s been churning under the surface all along, only now it’s finally bubbled over.

I think back to our Cinema days, all the stolen glances while cleaning. How I’d marvel over his profile from the passenger seat of his car, how his jaw would flex and tense when he was deep in thought. I think about the flutters in my stomach whenever his name pops up on my phone. How my fingers fly over the keyboard whenever I text him, how there’s always so much I want to say but never enough time.

I don’t know if I realized how lost I felt this year without him. Inviting him on this trip wasn’t purely for moral support when meeting The One, or to help distract him from Sophie. Truthfully, the idea of being near him again made me happier than I could admit.

Still, none of it sits right. Do I think Teller wants to hook up with me? Absolutely. Do I think he’s in love with me? No. He’s still in love with Sophie. I’ve spent almost our entire friendship witnessing Teller Owens in love. He gives his all. And Sophie was his everything. He can’t just move on in one month.

And even if Sophie or Caleb weren’t a factor, we’re so different; it’s almost laughable. Half the time, I’m convinced he can only put up with me in short bursts. These differences may work for our friendship. But romantically? I’m not so sure.

Then there’s the glaring fact: Teller simply isn’t my soulmate. Regardless of my feelings, he’s not meant to be mine and I’m not meant to be his. So even if our feelings are mutual, how would we live with the fact that it’s only temporary? That there is someone better for him out there, and for me, and we’re just delaying the inevitable. Our friendship has meant so much to me over the years, but it’s like a tightrope. Any misstep could tip the balance.

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