Page 3 of The Last Key
“What do you want me to do?” she asks.
“What?” I choke out.
“With my sleeping bag,” she says.
“Oh.”Right.Because Kennedy does not have feelings for me. Despite what I feel for her—a massive crush and epic horniness.
“Stand up for a second,” I tell her. I stand too, then unzip her sleeping bag and tuck the bottom underneath mine. We both settle back in my sleeping bag, then pull the top of hers over us.
She leans against me and wraps her arm around my waist.
Do not get hard. Don’t do it,I command my dick.
“Thanks for keeping me warm.”
“Always,” I say, trying not to sound as worked up as I am.
She twirls her finger over my abs.
Yep, there it is.
At least it’s only a semi and not a full hard-on.
This is fine. As long as I stay where I am and she stays where she is, she won’t feel it.
“I love the sound of the rain,” she whispers.
“It’s peaceful,” I agree, rubbing my hand down her back.
Moments like this make me question if I’m wrong about how she feels about me, but then I think back to last year.
It was my fourteenth birthday party, and I’d invited a bunch of kids from school. I didn’t really want to do anything big, but since my mother knows so many of theirs, I invited them all anyway. My parents were cool about it all and let me have a semi-supervised party at Brighton Manor—the inn my mother’s family has owned and operated for several generations.
A group of girls got the idea to play spin the bottle, and most of the guys, eager to be kissed, agreed. Kennedy and I went to the pantry looking for a bottle to use, and she asked me if I really wanted to play.
My heart was pounding as I spun around and looked at her.
“There’s only one girl I really want to kiss.”
“Oh. Who?”
I raised my eyebrows as I stared at her.
Her eyes widened as I moved closer, but she didn’t stop me. My hand was on her arm and my gaze was on her lips when the group of girls appeared at the doorway asking if we’d found a bottle yet.
Kennedy yanked her arm away, grabbed a glass bottle of ketchup, shoved it in one of the girl’s hands, and walked away. She wouldn’t play with us. Once the game got started, I didn’t even want to play because all the girls were purposely trying to land on me. I just wanted a fun night with my best friend, but I’d scared her. That night, I made a promise to myself not to try it again, but it didn’t make my feelings disappear.
Moments like this, though, are confusing. Her fingers are now at the hem of my shirt, brushing the skin above my waistband.
“Kennedy?”
“Hm?” She tilts her head up to look at my face.
“Want to go to homecoming with me?”
Maybe I’m breaking my promise to myself by asking her, but there’s no one else I want to go with.
“Really? You want to go with me?” she asks, surprised.
