Page 27 of Friends Don't Kiss

“Couch or kitchen?” I ask him.

He sets the plate on the countertop and takes another swig of beer.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“There’s something I need to talk to you about first.Askyou.” He takes a deep breath and I can tell he’s hesitating.

Finally he looks at me, his gaze flinching a little. I fight the attraction I still feel, the lingering memory of the kiss and the fake dating and how good it all felt. I focus on him instead of me, trying to assess what’s got him tongue-tied.

And then I get it.

He probably realized he can’t stand the idea of going to the engagement party with me, but he’s too nice to simply tell me. He wants to ask me if it’s okay. And how sweet is that?

I crack a big smile at him, resisting the urge to give him a side hug. “Of course you’re off the hook for the engagement! Goes without saying. I’ll tell Grams—”

“I think we should date,” he blurts out.

I frown. Like fake dating but every day, here in Emerald Creek? Why? “I’ll tell Grams we broke up,” I finish my sentence.

“I think we should date for real,” he repeats, clarifying.

My mouth goes dry, and something sharp hits me right below the ribcage. Panic and disbelief. A touch of hope, quickly killed off. I huff. “Yeah, right. Very funny.” I step away from him to the other side of the kitchen island and try to laugh, to show him how comical he is, but my efforts stay strangled in my throat.

“I’m serious,” he says, his eyebrows shooting up.

He’s kidding, right? The reasonI’mnot laughing is that, some time Saturday night, I lost my sense of humor when it comes to Colton. “You don’t date,” I counter, my eyes dropping to the logo on his T-shirt. I tear a bite off my pizza to show him how unmoved I am. That I really take this for what it is—a joke. Even if I’m not laughing.

He narrows his eyes on me. “With you I would.”

It’s like a rock hits the bottom of my stomach. Dinners and movies and stuff with Colton? And cuddling and kissing and… all the rest? “Yeah, right,” is all I seem to be able to say, again. I set the pizza down and grab the countertop for purchase.

He rounds the island and takes both my hands in his. Paralyzed for a moment, I try to pull away from his grasp but only succeed in having him tighten his grip. “I like you. I like spending time with you.” His mouth morphs into a delicious smile. “I liked kissing you. I think we should give this a try.”

And that’s the problem. Giving it a try, knowing it could go either way. I can’t take that risk.

“Nu-huh. Nope. Not a chance.”

He frowns, looking completely confused. “Why not?”

“Because we’re friends.”

“Exactly! We’re… great together.”

Desperation bubbles to the surface of my brain. If I can’t shut this down right away, I’m in for a world of pain. It’s written all over Colton’s strong features, in the depths of his irises, in the tilt of his mouth. I will never get over him. “It would ruin our friendship.”

“Um. No. It would make our relationship stronger.”

Oh, Colton. You don’t want a relationship with me. I’m just convenient because I’m right there. No work involved.“Not in a million years.” He’s probably only moderately attracted to me, physically—and who can blame him. Otherwise, why wouldn’t he have made a move earlier?

Without dropping my hands entirely, he releases his grip on me, but I stay in his warmth, in his touch. Because when will this happen again? Never. And he’s that good. Feels that good. Looks that good.

“Why?” he asks again, the defeat in his tone nearly undoing me. “I-the other night I-I know I said I was sorry I kissed you, but I wasn’t. Maybe that makes me a pig and I’m sorry if it does. But I think… I thought there was something there, and I—”

“We’d lose each other as friends,” I stop him before he says something that might convince me. Dating Colton would be a terrible, terrible idea. He’s way too… too everything for me. Too good. Too kind. Too strong.

I almost died when he pretended to kiss me—even if now he’s suggesting he wasn’t really pretending.

The truth is, I could never live up to his expectations. Sooner or later, he’d grow tired of me. He’d say something like,“Hey, Kiara, this was fun, but I like us better as friends.”And I wouldn’t survive that. I would lose myself and be a zombie inside for the rest of my days.

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