Page 29 of Up In Flames
“Are you straight?” His eyes opened and he stared into mine. He’d see the lies if I were bold enough to tell any. I wasn’t. I couldn’t lie to him. Not ever. Not about this.
“I don’t know. I don’t—I’ve never been attracted to anyone the way I am to you. Is that a problem?”
Will was silent for so long that I feared the worst. Had I just fucked everything up between us with my foolish kiss? I’d wanted to do it, so I’d done it with little thought about what Will might want.
But he kissed me back.
He. Kissed. Me. Back.
Clearly I wasn’t alone in my feelings. Whatever they were. Attraction? Infatuation? Obsession? Everything was suddenly tangled and complicated. Everything except how much I wanted to go back to kissing him. Life didn’t make sense to me lately.
I ached when he pulled away from me. His eyes were twin storms. His lips were still a temptation. My gaze flicked back and forth between his mouth and his eyes. I’d never noticed a man’s mouth before, but I had trouble looking away from Will’s. I knew the softness of his mouth on mine, and now I wanted to know what it would feel like on other parts of my body. Heat surged through me, and I forced myself to take a slow, deep breath.
“I wouldn’t be mad if we kissed again,” I told him. “I don’t think that makes me very straight, Will.”
He ran a hand through his hair. The look he gave me made my heart stop.
“I don’t want to be an experiment, Oren.”
“That isn’t what that was.” The words rushed out of me as desperation demanded I state my case before I lost him completely. “It wasn’t some kind of sexuality crisis where I just wanted to see what it was like to kiss a guy. I wanted to kiss you, Will. Not because you’re a guy, but because… well… because you’re you.”
He’d kissed me back and it hadn’t taken long during that kiss for me to start wanting more. His touch on my skin. His mouth. I wanted his warmth against me. When he’d clung to me, the solid form of his body was reassuring. Kissing Will was wonderful. Amazing. I wanted to do it again and again.
“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want,” I blurted. “I should have asked permission or something before kissing you. But I just… you choked, and the thought entered my head that I almost missed my chance.”
The furrow in Will’s brow deepened. “Your chance?”
A laugh escaped me, small and weak, barely a sound at all. I balled my hands into fists so I wouldn’t reach for him. How could I convince him he wasn’t some kind of crisis of sexuality experiment? I was too old and too alone to worry about what other people would think of me kissing men. Not men. Me kissing Will.
“I’m afraid I’ve become rather obsessed with you.” Reaching for my wallet, I pulled out my half of the pictures we’d taken in the photo booth at the fundraiser that day. Will’s eyes flashed when he recognized the pictures. “The more time I spend with you, the more I want to spend time with you. It’s a vicious circle, really. I know you’re my friend, and if we can’t kiss and stay friends, then I’ll keep you as a friend.”
He still didn’t say anything. Nodding, I tucked the photos back in my wallet and tucked it into my pants pocket. If I’d been in his apartment, I’d have made a run for it by now, but I couldn’t exactly run out and leave him here.
“Oren,” Will said, his voice full of regret. I could already tell he was trying to find a way to let me down easy. “Plenty of people develop feelings for someone who was there during a high stress or dangerous situation. But those feelings usually fade.”
Horrified, I looked at Will. My heart clenched and crumbled. “You think this is some kind of hero worship crush? That my feelings couldn’t possibly be real because of how we met?”
“It’s happened before.”
“But did any of those people get to know you? Did they show up at a fundraiser and eat your chili and play stupid games with you? Did they exchange numbers and text messages with you? Did you send them memes that made you think of them? Were any of them your friends?”
“Trauma can have a profound effect on us.” Will sounded robotic, like he was reciting things he’d read in a textbook or some shit.
“Don’t tell me about the profound effects trauma can have.”
Rage boiled up inside me. The room was too hot. Too small. Too bright. My skin was too tight. My breath too short. “I might have lost my friends, but I didn’t lose my fucking mind. And I didn’t magically just bump my head and discover I like men. Hell, I don’t like men. I like you. You, Will. Not because of the wreck, because—forget it.” I wasn’t about to pour my heart out any more than I already had. Listing the reasons I liked him seemed pathetic. Something a love-struck twelve year-old might do.
Sucking in a breath, I steeled myself. “I think you should leave.”
“Oren—”
“Excuse me.” Like a coward, I slipped into the bathroom and shut the door. I threw the lock and turned the shower on, even though I wasn’t about to get in it. I just needed to not hear him leave.
Fuck Will for thinking my feelings were nothing but trauma.
Fuck him for not thinking he was worth liking. Worth kissing. Fuck me for ruining everything. I put the lid down on the toilet and sat. Burying my face in my hands, I waited for the humiliation to subside. For the anger to ebb and leave only ice-cold regret behind.
Several minutes had gone by before I turned the shower off. I strained to hear anything beyond the walls of the bathroom, but of course I wouldn’t. Will was gone, and it was my fault. I’d kissed him and driven him away. I should’ve guessed that he wouldn’t want to run around kissing every man he knew. But I’d hoped he wanted to kiss me. Lesson learned.
