Page 15 of Never To Forever

This time I’ve spent with her has been both productive and confusing. She’s been a tremendous help with editing my papers and working with me on the English assignments I struggle with. She’s been patient, kind, and generous, giving me space to work on my own but being close by in case I need her. At some point, visiting the library became a highlight of my days. Walking in and seeing her smile… watching the way she interacts with anyone else who walks into the building… seeing the way she lights up when she talks about books… it makes me want to spend more and more time with her.

It’s a slippery slope that’s been difficult to avoid.

She arches a brow and gives me a skeptical look before sighing and saying, “All right, if you say so. I swear to God, if you’re just trying to make me feel better, I’m going to kill you.”

That makes me chuckle. Marie has always made me laugh… even when she was a mostly annoying little kid, she could come up with jokes that I thought were hilarious. No other woman has really made me laugh like she does, now that I think about it.

It’s making things… complicated.

Being so close to her during our study sessions has been an unexpected torture. She’s been helping me take notes and work on papers as my arm has continued to heal. I’ve noticed different things about her that have made it difficult to focus on my schoolwork.

Apart from her scent, there are her kissable pink lips. She parts them when she’s really concentrating, and sometimes she’ll press the end of her pen against her plump bottom lip. When she does that, I get the urge to pull the pen away and take her lip between my teeth.

Wait, where did that thought come from? What the hell is wrong with me? I shouldn’t be having these thoughts about Marie, but every time she brushes up against me, throws me a flirtatious smile, or walks away with her hips swaying, my cock twitches and my blood heats. Then the guilt sets in. I shouldn’t be thinking of her like that. She’s too young for me. She’s like a sister.

Even as I tell myself that over and over again, I can’t stop sneaking looks at her or imagining how her lips would feel wrapped around my cock.

She checks her phone and lets out a sigh. “Shoot, we need to finish up for the day. I need to get back to work.”

“No problem,” I reply, a little relieved. My thoughts are getting a little out of control, so some distance is probably for the best. “Thanks for your help.”

She stands from her chair and I follow suit, but my elbow hits a textbook sitting on the edge of the desk. It falls to the floor with a clatter.

“Oh, shit,” I mumble, bending down to get it.

“I’ll get it,” Marie says at the same time.

Our hands meet as we both touch the book and I look up, meeting her gaze. We’re close. Really close. I could lean in and press my lips to hers with ease. The urge to kiss her strikes me like a lightning bolt and I wonder if it would be such a bad thing to do. Her cheeks grow rosy, and her eyes drop to my mouth. She’d let me kiss her if I tried. She wants me to. I can see it in her heated gaze…

“Are you two all right?”

I jump, startled at the sudden intrusion, and look up to find Kathy standing over us. She’s watching us with a furrowed brow and a concerned frown. Embarrassment floods through me, as if I’ve been caught doing something I shouldn’t be doing. Clearing my throat, I grab the book and stand back up. Not looking at Marie, I quickly gather my things.

“I’ll see you later,” I say, flashing her a smile before turning to hurry away, leaving Marie and the temptation she presents behind me.

* * *

Later that night, I’m still thinking about Marie, despite my best efforts to put her out of my head. She’s somehow burrowed her way into my thoughts and won’t let go. Sitting on my couch, I dangle a half-empty beer bottle between my fingers and rest my head back to stare up at the ceiling. I run my free hand over my face and let out a long, frustrated breath. I keep picturing that moment when our hands met and her lips were right there, begging to be kissed. What if I’d done it? What would have happened? That’s a dangerous road for me to go down, but I can’t stop imagining her spread out on the library floor beneath me, her cheeks flushed and her lips plump and reddened from my kiss.

Fuck… I need to get it together. I need to remember why I can’t cross that line with her.

As much as I hate to remember it, I force myself to think back to one of the last conversations I had with my mom, not long before she died.

She’d been in the hospital, sickly and gaunt. Weak. Fading. I hated seeing her like that, and I hate even more that I didn’t visit her as often as I should have because the sight of her in so much pain gutted me.

I’d made myself go that day. I’m still not sure why, but some instinct pulled at me to go to her. Maybe a part of me knew she had little time left. That if I didn’t see her then, I might never get the chance to again.

She’d smiled, putting on a brave face for me, but I could tell she was suffering. We both knew it was almost the end, but I refused to say so out loud.

Mom was braver than me.

She took my hand in hers. Her skin was paper thin and her bones felt brittle wrapped in mine.

Meeting my gaze, she spoke in a low, raspy voice.

“Gary, I need you to promise me something.”

“Anything, Mom.”

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