Page 8 of The Four Leaf

“You suck at lying and you’re crazy in love with Adrian.”

My eyes hurt from flaring so wide, but I try my hand at annoyance. “Are you still on about that? It’s been fifteen years, Will.”

“And it’s about damn time you admit you lied. On a pinky swear, no less. It’s the principle.”

“You’re such an igit.”

She throws her head back as laughter tumbles past her lips. “An igit who’s right. You don’t want to admit it? Fine. But don’t insult me as your sister and friend by lying about why you can’t take a damn nap around him.”

There’s something I both hate and love about having my sister also be my best friend. While I can tell her about the horrendous dates I have with the boring tax attorney, or my secret desire to be railed like a complete whore by the guy who plays Winter Soldier, I filter anything that pertains to Adrian.

It’s mainly because he’s also Willow’s friend. I’d hate for her to make things more awkward, or even worse, feel the need to stop hanging around us altogether.

But the look on her face does things to make me feel like a crappy sister.

Freaking jerk.

“You love making me feel like an ass.”

“Isn’t it my job?”

Throwing my hands up in defeat, I give her a general synopsis of what happened in the bathroom. I explain how it felt like I was imagining things, but at the same time, I know I wasn’t. How I’m both confused and nervous about the shift in the air. That there’s something different.

She leans against the threshold of the door, looking out at the bar for a moment as she digests what I’ve said. What I’ve pretty much admitted. When she turns back around, I’m surprised by the genuine earnestness in her voice.

“He’s losing his will to keep you at arm’s length.”

I lift a questioning brow. “And that means?”

Willow sighs, redoing her ponytail that’s come slightly loose. “He’s fighting the same urges you are. Probably worried about ruining a twenty-year-old friendship for a night in the sack.”

I swallow around the thick lump suddenly in my throat. When she doesn’t elaborate, I clear my throat. “You’re saying what?”

“I think it’s pretty obvious he wants you just as bad, Sam. But naturally, he’s holding back like you are. Seems like it’s getting harder for him, though. My advice?”

I nod, and she straightens. “Be an adult and confront it. If you both communicate, you might be surprised to find out how something that seems impossible is actually easy.”

Without another word, she pushes the swinging door open and disappears, leaving me with my heart in my throat and my mind full of what-ifs.

Am I hiding out in the ballroom? Possibly.

Am I terrified of what my sister left lingering in the air? Yep.

What about the possibilities that could be if I had an adult conversation with Adrian, instead of letting it fall to the wayside because of some type of miscommunication? Also, a resounding yes. Absolutely petrified.

But will I allow myself to do anything about it? Honestly, I don’t know.

I want to. I think.

For the second time today, I construct a mental list of the possible pros and cons that can happen if I were to outright tell Adrian I have feelings for him. That I have since forever and want to try to pursue things.

Pros: He feels the same, and we try it out.

Cons: I lose a dear friend. I mess up a three-way friendship that’s been around since Google was founded. I potentially lose the best handyman the hotel has ever had.

Obvious weight leans on me, just keeping my mouth shut and trying to move on. Maybe what happened in the bathroom was a fluke. A misinterpreted moment of weakness when I was drowning in everything Adrian.

I do my best to ignore the squeezing sensation in my chest and slip out my phone as I walk to the piano. Flopping down on the hard bench, I press my back into the closed key cover and tap on the dating app.

---