Page 56 of The Boyfriend List
“Yes, Gloria. I want to be friends with you.” London steps closer to me, and his breath warms my face. Saltwater spills down my cheeks, and he gently brushes my tears away before dropping his hands to his sides again.
Goosebumps rise on my bare arms, as his scent of cedar and eucalyptus wraps around me. A soothing, calming aroma. So why does it light every nerve in my body on fire, and make every fibre of my being beg to get closer to him? Warning bells sound in my head, blaring at me to get away. That he’s going to hurt me. But I can’t.
I gaze up at him, my eyes searching his for any sign of insincerity, any hint that he doesn't mean what he's said. Any sign that he doesn't just want to be friends.
“If your definition offriendsincludes teasing you at work because I cherish the sound of your laugh…" London gently reaches out and rests his hand on my waist, and I don't resist. If anything, I relax into his touch. "Or grabbing your hand under the table when you don’t think anyone’s looking…"
London tucks a loose strand of my hair behind one ear. "Or kissing you breathless until you can’t think about anything but me… then yes. I want to be friends.”
It's now or never. Finding a new boldness in me that says,to hell with the rules and lists and plans, I step even closer, my chest brushing his.
“What if my definition of friends is one where we dothis?” I stretch up on my tiptoes, resting my hands on his broad shoulders, and feathering a kiss on his cheek.
His hand slides from my waist up my back, leaving a trail of heat in its wake, and cups the back of my head. "Then I'd love to be your best friend, Ria."
London presses his lips to mine, and I melt and burn and spark to life all at once.
I didn't know a first kiss would feel like this. Like every secret desire fulfilled, like all my unspoken prayers answered. Like London knew exactly what I'd want in a first kiss and hand-delivered it in the most exquisitely wrapped gift box. His strong arms hold me against the chest that I wasdefinitelyogling when we were at the gym. How is it possible that the man I thought would never be interested in me is kissing me like he wants to fuse our lips together and never be separated?
Uncertain of what to do, I card my fingers through his hair, which is softer than I had imagined. A groan slips out of his mouth when I tug him down towards me. I savour the sound—knowing I can have some kind of effect on the usually controlled London Young.
"Gloria," he whispers after he draws back slightly. We're so close that our noses brush. "Did—did you want this?"
I laugh. "You're asking menow?"
"I know we have a lot to figure out—and I didn't exactly make our first kiss the most romantic location it could be—"
"Myfirst kiss," I correct him.
His eyes widen comically, and the colour leaches from his face. "That was your first kiss?"
Chapter Twenty: London
Ijust gave Gloria Romero her first kiss?
"How is that possible?" I splutter.
My mind spins. I don't think it's stopped spinning since we got in the car and drove away from the Greek restaurant. Between my jealousy and the emotional corkscrew of our conversation just now, I may never find solid footing again.
Hurt flashes across Gloria’s face. "First, you read my list, and now you're mocking me for never being kissed?"
"No!" The word explodes from my lips with more force than I intend it to. "Not at all. But I don't see how any man could look at you and not want to kiss you."
She shrugs. "Most of them never got past a first date. The ones who did were… Well, I didn't want to kiss any of them."
"And did you want to kiss me?" My heart pounds.Her first kiss.My own, all fumbling hands and unsure lips, was nothing like this one.
Gloria shoves at my chest. "Did itfeellike I was fighting you off?"
"Well, if you're going to grab my pecs like that, you can fight me off any time."
She gives the most frustrated sigh I've ever heard. "Yes, London. I wanted to kiss you, and I want to do it again. But preferably on my couch.”
I scan the dingy parking garage. "I accept your conditions."
As we walk hand-in-hand toward the elevator to her apartment, she asks me, "Why did you call Giorgio tonight? Why now, after everything?"
Such a simple question, yet I don't think I could pinpoint a simple or easy answer for her. It wasn’t mere jealousy. She's not a possession to be fought over. She’s… Gloria. The best parts of my life and the bright star that makes the darkest parts a little lighter.
