Page 10 of The One I Love
What the hell is he doing?
And why is it making me feel some sort of way?
Chapter 2
Shane
“Shane?”
“Yeah?”
“I need to fix this.”
I take a sip of my drink before telling Wes that yes, in fact, he is a dumbass. “No shit, Sherlock.”
He slams his hands on the table at the wedding reception before walking off, thankfully not toward the dance floor where Betsy is dancing with one of the Nashville Fury players. It’s nothing suggestive or sexual. Just two people having a good time.
They aren’t the only ones. Tons of people are on the dance floor as the song changes from a fast, upbeat one to a slower ballad. I’m not one of those people. I don’t dance. I never have. I’m a proponent of not doing things you don’t want to do. Like now, I don’t want to dance with the few women who have made eyes at me tonight. I don’t want to follow Wes as he tries not to punch a hole in the wall. I don’t even want to go and stand at the bar and drink with Oliver. No, I’d rather sit at thistable, sip my whiskey, and stew as I watch husbands and wives, couples, and even strangers, make their way to the dance floor.
Especially one couple.
Like she knows I’m thinking about her, I see Amelia walk onto the dance floor, hand-in-hand with the guy who has been hitting on her all day. He’s about my height, at six-foot-two, and well built, likely one of the many professional football players or coaches in attendance tonight. I wanted to put my fist through his face at the ceremony when I saw him kiss her hand. I almost flipped a table watching them dance earlier.
And now, as I watch him pull her so close there’s barely enough room for air between them, I might kill a man.
What is Amelia doing? She doesn’t do this. She doesn’t dance or date or hang out with men. And why is she laughing like he just told her the world’s best joke?
Wait…is he pulling her closer? How can that happen? Wait…is he about to kiss her?
Fuck this shit…
I feel my hand tighten around my rocks glass as I watch this play out. He doesn’t kiss her, but their foreheads are touching, and that’s just as bad.
I’m shocked I don't break the glass. But holding onto this is the only thing keeping me from racing to the dance floor and pulling her away from him. I know I need to look away, but I can’t stop staring at her. It’s been like this all day. It’s like my eyes are searching for her every second.
I’ve always thought Amelia was beautiful in her understated way. Her curves are subtle, and she rarely shows them, but today, in her fitted pink dress, every single one is highlighted. My mouth has been watering since the second I saw her walk into the ceremony. She’s wearing makeup, which is another rarity, but it’s not what makes her beautiful. It’s highlighting her already perfect features. Like her eyes. Her browneyes seem to be sparkling. Her long brown hair is styled in a way I’ve never seen before, with soft curls hitting at her shoulder.
All those things are different about Amelia, but that’s not what I’m being drawn to tonight. No, it’s that for the first time in a long time, she looks happy. Free. Like she doesn’t have the weight of the world on her shoulders as a single mom to two kids. Or a demanding career. She just looks like a woman who’s enjoying her night.
And I’m the bastard who’s about to ruin it.
I look around, hoping that one of my friends is here to stop me from doing the stupid thing I’m about to do. Not that they would know what they’re stopping me from. None of them know I’ve been in love with Amelia for decades. That I once kissed her. That since I can remember, I’ve pushed down feelings for her because I couldn’t risk ruining our friendship. Or risk ruining the dynamic of our friend group.
All of those reasons are feeling flimsy as hell right now.
I remember years ago when I decided I was going to kiss her. It was a split-second decision. Like the wire had snapped, and it would be the biggest regret of my life if I didn’t kiss her.
That’s what I’m feeling right now. I know I need to be stopped. But I also don’t want to be.
I look around to see if any are near me. Wes is gone, hopefully trying to figure out how to get Betsy back. Oliver’s at the bar hitting on a leggy redhead. My guess is he’s three drinks away from proposing. I have no idea where Simon is after he randomly got up from the table and stomped away.
I need to let this go. Or if I’m going to stay, I need to ignore Amelia and the Fury asshole. It’s not my place. I’m her friend. That’s it. I’m Uncle Shane to her kids. The guy who mows her lawn and shovels her driveway because that’s the kind of friend I am.
I kissed her once and it could’ve ruined everything. The only reason it didn’t is because I left for the Army the next day and was gone for the better part of the following eight years. If I do something stupid again, I’ll have to face the consequences. And I don’t know if I’m ready for that.
Sit still Shane. Breathe. Take another drink of whiskey. Don’t look at her. Ignore that her lips are now dangerously close to that fucker’s mouth.
Fuck! How can I ignore that? I can’t.
