Page 23 of Friends Don't Kiss

“Oh, she was cute!” Willow says, and then the rest of the conversation gets lost as my ears woosh with blood.

Valerie is a great woman…but not for Colton. There was something about the two of them…every time I saw them together… it feltwrong. I have to admit, I was surprised when she moved in with him. Well, and also a little pissed, to be honest. No more late-night gaming sessions with Colt for me.

I tried, and failed, to feel sorry when she left. The day I found out, I showed up at Colt’s with a pack of beer and a pizza, like a good ol’ buddy. We went back to how it always was. And it felt great. At least to me it did.

And now she’s back? Suddenly my coffee doesn’t sit well in my stomach. I set my book on my lap, but I don’t think I can add anything kind to this conversation.

Grace rattles off about how her brother is too difficult and although I wholeheartedly agree with her, there’s nothing I want to say. If I did, she might enlist me to get him back together with Valerie. Since Grace has been back with her long-lost love, she wants everyone to get their happily ever after. Problem is, Valerie can’t be Colton’s happily ever after. And this isn’t me being jealous or possessive or having any illusions of my own with Colton. Like I said, I value my friendship with him far more than anything else.

It’s just… she’s notrightfor him. He seemed off when they were together.

It wrecks me to know she’s back. To know he might fall for her again.

And be miserable.

As I pretend to have no interest in Colton’s love life by losing myself again within the pages of the book, reading and rereading the same page over and over again, I force myself to analyze why I’m feeling what I’m feeling about Colton insisting on driving me last night. About him posing as my boyfriend. And about his kiss. Hisfakekiss. Despite this morning’s resolve, it’s clear I’m not solidly in the friend zone yet. And that’s okay. I’m allowed a wobbly journey back to normalcy, as long as I don’t ruin anything.

From the dim confines of my brain, two things are clear.

Being in Colton’s arms, beingkissedby Colton, made me feel incredibly safe for the few, fake seconds that it lasted. Colton saved me once before, a long time ago, and he did again yesterday. Not from my sister or my mother or even David and their snarky remarks. He saved me from myself, from my self-loathing. He made me feel valuable and-and-and…necessary. As if the party would have been nothing close to what it was without my presence. He reminded everyone how long I worked on the cake—not in front of Grams. He took a family photo with Grams blowing all eighty candles, making sure I was seated next to her, smack in the middle. He told everyone who would hear how proud he was that I was “a self-made woman, and not many people can say that. Soon she’ll be more famous than our baker, you watch.” I punched him playfully,“Oh stop,”but I blushed under the compliment. Everyone in the room still remembered, and probably had watched, Chris winning the TV baking competition. Now my whole family was looking at me with a different eye.

“What do you think, Kiara?” Willow says.

“About Valerie? Nothing,” I snap.

“Ooh.” She leans toward me and whispers, “We moved on from that topic a while ago. Good to know where your mind was. Speaking of which,” she adds, elbowing me.

I look up and see Colton push the door open.

My cheeks warm. Damn it. “My mind was on my book,” I answer, bringing it up to my face to make a point.

Just then, my phone rings.Grams.I set my book down and step away to take the call.

seven

Colton

ThankfuckKiara’spiece-of-shitcar (on account of its age) is a Corolla. And that I had the part.

Once on the lift, hood popped open, and battery disconnected, it was a breeze to get to the starter—right there under the intake manifold with nothing in the way. I pulled off the wiring harness, removed the couple of bolts holding the starter in, slapped the new one in, torqued the bolts to spec, reconnected the wires, hooked the battery. She fired right back up.

Could I have done this yesterday? Ah. Not if I wanted to stay nice and clean and dressed up for my date.

The date I didn’t want to go to.

The date I ended up canceling anyway.

So the answer would be no. No, I couldn’t have done it yesterday. Because I wouldn’t have wanted to.

At least I’m not lying to myself. I needed a little bit of Kiara in my day before going on my date, and what’s wrong with that?

And yeah, as things progressed, as she started telling me about her family, I wanted to be by her side as she walked in. Moral support and all that. That was before the fake dating idea even remotely appeared in the back of my brain. Waaay before her lips were under mine. Because that’s what friends do, right?

I push the door to Easy Monday, looking forward to the scent of coffee. To seeing my sister and her friends, even for just a quick hello. To maybe sitting down in an armchair and reading the newspaper like a proper old man. After all, I’m going on thirty.

This morning, though, my gaze searches and stops on Kiara like a heat-seeking missile. Her petite shape curled on the couch moves me. She’s deep in her book, biting her bottom lip, her cheeks slightly flushed. I notice her delicate neck, the way her eyes dance as they scan the page, the—

“Hey, Colt,” Grace calls out.

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