Page 129 of Fake Dating My Best Friend

Asher’s eyes crinkle at the corners, the telltale sign of his barely contained amusement. His lips press together in that way they always do when he’s trying not to laugh. In a split-second decision, I grab his arm and tug him toward the stairwell.

“Come with me.”

Asher

I’m barely through the office door when it slams shut behind me. Isla’s hand pushes it closed with such force that the blinds rattle against the glass.

“Isla—”

But before I can say another word, her hands grab my face, pulling me down to her, and she crashes her lips into mine.

I freeze. Every thought slams to a halt.

Yesterday, she ran from me, and now she’s kissing me like her life depends on it.

But Isla doesn’t stop. If anything, my hesitation makes her more determined. Her fingers slide into my hair, gripping tight as she presses closer, her kiss deepening with an urgency that knocks the air from my lungs.

Something inside me snaps. My hands find her waist, fingers digging into the soft fabric of her blouse. I spin us around, backing her against the wall with more force than I intended. Her gasp disappears into my mouth as I lift her up, my grip tightening on her hips, pinning her between my body and the wall.

Her legs wrap around my waist instantly, her arms circling my neck, like we’ve done this a thousand times before. Like our bodies have always known what our hearts couldn’t admit.

I taste mint on her tongue, feel the rapid flutter of her pulse. Everything about this moment feels both brand new and achingly familiar. It’s the final piece of a puzzle I’ve been trying to complete my entire life.

My lips break from hers only to trace a path along her jaw, down the column of her throat. She tilts her head back, her breath ragged in my ear. The sound of it—knowing I’m affecting her this way—nearly brings me to my knees.

When we finally break apart, both breathing hard, I keep her pinned against the wall, unwilling to let even an inch of space between us. Her forehead rests against mine, our noses brushing.

Isla pulls back slightly, her breath mingling with mine as she searches my eyes.

“I have to say this before I lose my nerve.” She still sounds a bit breathless, her chest rising and falling against mine. I want to memorize this moment. The way her eyes are wide and bright, how her lips are slightly swollen from my kiss.

I’ve imagined this so many times, but nothing compares to the real thing. To hold her like this, finally.

I nod, unable to form words. My thumb brushes her back, encouraging her.

“Sorry to run away like that yesterday.” Her fingers tighten around my neck. “Or correctly, running away all the time. I thought I could bury my feelings for my whole life, and it would be enough—safe—to just be friends. As long as I didn’t lose you.” She pauses, staring into my eyes with an intensity that steals my breath. “But I was wrong. I already fell. I fell so hard that not having you at all . . . is worse than losing you.”

The words I’ve waited years to hear hang between us. My heart hammers so hard I’m sure she can feel it through my chest. For a moment, I can’t speak. Can’t even breathe. This woman who’s been the center of my universe since we were kids is finally saying what I’ve dreamed of hearing.

My Peachie. My Isla.

“My dad left my mom because he didn’t think he deserved Mom’s love. He ran because he was scared. But now, he regrets never letting himself love her with his whole heart.” She swallows hard. “And I realized I’ve been doing the exact same thing with you.”

I shake my head, wanting to interrupt, to tell her she’s always been more than enough, but she presses a finger to my lips.

“Let me finish, or I’ll never get through this.”

I kiss her fingertip, and she smiles through her tears.

“But I’m done being scared. Done running from my heart.” She meets my eyes. “Thank you for waiting for me. For choosing me, even though I’ve pushed you away so many times. For still looking at me like I’m someone special after seeing me mascara-streaked ugly crying, or that time I threw up all over you when Mike dumped me by text. Thank you for never making me feel silly for my romance novels. For listening to me ramble about matchmaking like it’s the key to world peace. For cooking my favorite pasta while eating every failed muffin like it’s a five-star dessert.”

I can’t help but smile as she lists all these little things that make her perfectly Isla, the woman I’ve loved for as long as I can remember.

She takes my hands in hers, her eyes never leaving mine. “Thank you for not giving up on us, Asher. I love—”

I press my finger gently to her lips, stopping her words. Her eyes widen, questioning.

“Let me say it first,” I whisper. “I’ve been waiting fifteen years to tell you.”

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