Page 7 of Sugarlips
She smiled, but it was fleeting, dropping quickly like a butterfly’s wings. “Thank you,” she said. And for the first time all night, she refused to look me in the eye. “For staying tonight.”
I nodded but didn’t quite know what to say. I don’t think this night shaped up how either of us expected it to… but I couldn’t say I was unhappy with the strange turn of events. “How aboutPillow Talknext?” I asked, flipping through the streaming site.
“What’s that?”
I dropped my jaw, indignant. “Rock Hudson… Doris Day… a party phone line. Are you kidding? It’s classic.”
Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized me. “How do you know so much about romantic comedies?”
“You really think only women can enjoy them?”
“They’re called chick flicks for a reason.” I strained to glance at her without moving my head. This was more like it. From the sympathetic crying to enjoying Reese Witherspoon movies, this was the reaction I was used to getting from women—emasculation. But I’d thought Chloe might be different.
I sighed. “When I was a kid… like, really little. Kindergarten age, I was sick a lot. Addy was the twin born first, and it’s like she got all the good genes and I got the shitty immune system. So when I was home from school, my mom and I used to watch movies together. And I’ve never felt the macho need to pretend I’m too good to enjoy a well-written scene at the top of the empire state building.”
I felt her finger dip into my chin dimple again. “You’re mad.” It was a statement, not a question. And a true one, at that.
“Mad might be too strong of a word.”
“Annoyed?”
I nodded, but then clarified. “Frustrated.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered and turned my face to look at her. “I’ve never had a guy friend who likes rom-coms as much as I do.”
I smiled. “Well, almost.When Harry Met Sallyis still a terrible movie. Even though it proves a good point that men and women can’t really be friends.”
She smiled back, then tucked her head into the nook of my arm and chest. “We’ll prove they can,” she said.
For the smallest moment, I found myself wishing she was wrong.
1:47 a.m.
A small sniffle came from beside me and my spine went stiff.No. She couldn’t be crying now, could she? We’d almost made it the whole night without any tears.
I risked a small glance down at her face, and sure enough, a single tear streaked down her cheek.
“Hey,” I said quietly, giving her arm a squeeze. “Everything okay down there?”
Another sniffle. “WestleylovedButtercup!” she cried out.
I tugged her into my arms for a proper hug, resting my hand on her hair. We’d decided onThe Princess Bridewhen we couldn’t findPillow Talkon any streaming sites. “Yeah,” I said. “He did. It was ‘Wuv. Twue wuv.’”
She snorted a laugh that quickly morphed into more sobs against my chest. Her hands clutched the cotton of my t-shirt and I held her tighter as she cried. The kind of hard, limb-shaking tears that rock through your whole body.
Oh, God… no. Shit. It was coming. The threat of my own tears. My chest ached. My throat was tight. My eyes burned white-hot and pricked with sensitivity. I glanced up at the ceiling, willing those stupid empathetic tears to evaporate like a puddle on the sidewalk during a heat wave in Nevada.
I blinked and one tear fell, landing right on Chloe’s nose.
She pulled back, blinking and hiccupping as she searched my face. “Did you… are you crying, too?”
I swiped the back of my knuckle beneath my eyes. “Yeah… uh. I’m a sympathetic crier,” I admitted. It was the last thing I wanted to admit to her. I wanted to be strong and macho. The kind of guy she could trust to support her and lean on in these times. But then again, if she was right and we were going to be best friends… she’d find out the truth eventually.
I raised my brows, awaiting the onslaught of jokes and sarcastic remarks. I’d heard them all from Finn already anyway. I doubted there was a new one she could sling my way. “Lemme guess, this makes me a vagina?”
Her own tears had stopped, but I could see the wet tracks of where they had run down her cheeks. She licked her lips—those fucking full, gorgeous lips—once more. “No,” she whispered and reached a hand up to touch my face. Her soft fingers dragged beneath my eyes, then down the bridge of my nose until her finger landed at my jaw. Her gaze was steadfast on my lips. “It makes you a pussy.”
I grinned. “Did you just call me sexy?”
