Page 130 of The Love Haters

Hutch would never kiss mebeforehe knew the truth. But after he knew the truth—he might not want to anymore.

Hutch watched me wrestle with myself. Then he shook his head. “I think you better go now.”

I nodded. But I was frozen with indecision. I might never get another chance.

Hutch met my eyes. “I’m serious,” he said.

“I know,” I said. But I didn’t move.

“Katie—do I have to physically move you?”

I shook my head, but I still didn’t go.

There was that classic, concerned frown of his—though who he was concerned for wasn’t clear. He was breathing deeply, and I was, too. Time seemed to slow down.

He wanted to kiss me. He’d said as much.

He wanted to, but he wouldn’t. Even drunk, he wouldn’t. It was against everything he stood for. It was against his honor. Good guys didn’t kiss their brother’s girlfriends. Even with permission.

And Hutch was nothing if not a good guy.

My mind searched desperately for a loophole.

Then it occurred to me thatIcould kisshim.

If I kissed him right now—just reached up and pulled him in—I could take him by surprise. Could that work? If Hutch was just a hapless victim of a kiss he never saw coming? He couldn’t be held responsible for that, right?

The past was gone, and the future was uncertain, but right now was absolutely clear: I might never get another chance.

You never really know what other people are thinking, but from the way our gazes were locked, I couldn’t imagine Hutch felt any way other than the same.

No one would blame him…

I took a deep breath. Maybe this was the perfect answer.

… But he would blame himself.

I let the breath out.

Somewhere in the multiverse there was a version of this story where I pulled Hutch in with both hands and kissed him senseless until we stumbled backward into his place, and into the bedroom, and into his bed—and everything we did all night made everything else better, not worse.

But this was not that universe.

There was no loophole.

If Drunk Hutch kissed me thinking I was his brother’s girlfriend, even if I wasn’t, then he was a bad person. And if I kissed him knowing everything I knew, then I was a bad person.

He was holding himself back for a reason.

And for something that wasn’t real, that reason was real enough.

I was overthinking it. MaybeIshould’ve volunteered for that drinking contest.

But it was what it was. There would be no kissing, no stumbling, noanything at alltonight.

I guess George Bailey must have agreed with my line of thinking. Because just as I broke eye contact with Hutch, George Bailey started barking at us through the window.

We both turned, and Hutch let out a long sigh.

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