Page 38 of Wilder Puck
I feel the blood rushing to my dick, and all I can think about is how I absolutely cannot get a boner right now. If there’s anything that can ruin this moment, it would be a hard flashlight pressed against her.
“I can’t wait,” I mutter.
I close my eyes, breathing in the scent of her hair and focusing on the ache of my muscles. She pats my face in a platonic way, and I swear I smell vanilla on her wrist. I keep my eyes closed anyway, smiling that she’s here with me like this.
As sleep pulls me under, I can't help but think that this is the way I always want to end my days—every single day.
I wake sometime later, unsure what pulled me from sleep. I roll over, expecting Addison's warmth to greet me, but that side of the bed is empty.
“Baddie?” I call out, my voice cracking.
No response.
I check my phone. 2 AM. Maybe she went to the guestroom. I pad down the hall, but when I push the guestroom door open, the bed is empty and untouched.
Unease pulses through my body as I make my way through the house. The kitchen is dark and empty with no sign of Addison. Did she leave? Why would she slip out in the middle of the night?
Unless…shit. Did I cross a line earlier? Maybe asking her to stay, to sleep in my arms was too much.
Maybe I freaked her out. Maybe she realized cuddling was toocouple-yfor our practicing, fake situation. Maybe the guys were right, and this is the beginning of the end, the part where itall goes to hell and I lose my best friend because I couldn't keep my damn feelings in check.
I force myself to take a breath. I’m letting my mind run away with worst-case scenarios. For all I know, Addie needed work clothes or has an early morning tomorrow. I take a deep breath and decide that this doesn't have to be about me.
I fill a glass with water and gulp it down, trying to slow my racing thoughts. Addie and I are solid. We've weathered years of friendship and this new development–one night of me being a clingy bastard isn't going to send her running. I need to relax.
Easier said than done when all I can think about is how perfectly she fits in my arms, how having her beside me is all I've wanted for longer than I care to admit. But if she’s sneaking out in the middle of the night after a cuddle, then these feelings might be one-sided. I can’t cross the line again if this is the outcome. I'll take her any way I can get her, even if it means tamping down on the part of me that aches for more.
With a sigh, I rinse the glass and head back to bed. I have to be at practice in a few hours. Wait, isn’t she planning to be here early for our run? I should at least attempt to get a few more hours of sleep then.
As I slip beneath the sheets, I can't help but think about how she might bail on our morning run tomorrow.
As I roll around, restless, I notice how big and empty the bed feels without Addison. The vanilla scent lingers on the pillow and it makes my chest clench.
I'm.
So.
Screwed.
Chapter 13
I can't sleep. I'm too busy freaking out about the fact that I'm currently curled up in my best friend’s arms, my head on his chest, his heart a steady beat beneath my cheek. He fell asleep almost instantly, the lucky guy, while I lie here wide awake, my mind racing.
This is a bad idea. Cuddling is for couples. It's intimate and meaningful and everything our little arrangement is not supposed to be. We agreed to be practice buddies, just sex between friends. And I’ll be his fake girlfriend because that’s what he told his dad. No feelings, no complications. This is practice. We need the advice. Maybe me more than him, but still! How did I end up here?
He looks younger in his sleep, the lines of stress and intensity smoothed away. His blonde hair flops over his forehead and my fingers itch to brush it back, to trail over the sharp lines of his jaw, the full curve of his lips. As I stare at Ryan's relaxed face in the moonlight filtering through the curtains, I know I’m in deep.
My heart squeezes. If this is how he feels…arms wrapped around me, cuddling without any sex…why couldn’t he simply tell me he wants to be more? Why tell his dad that I’m his girlfriend and not care to make it a reality? Being in his arms makes me feel two things. First, it feels like this is a shitty way to pull a move on me if he does feel anything for me. Really, he hasn’t confessed any feelings for me, so what the hell am I doing here? Second, I think I might be in love with him. But…I can't go there. Falling for Ryan isn’t an option. It would ruin our friendship. He’s my favorite person, and those feelings would destroy us. What’s currently going on between us is already ruining us. I feel myself slipping away because I can’t…I can’t do this.
Panic claws at my throat, so I carefully extract myself from his embrace, easing out of the bed. I can't stay. I can't risk blurring the lines more than I already have. Ryan is my best friend, the most important person in my life. I won't jeopardize that for anything.
These thoughts are all my assumptions, but I will not stay if he doesn’t confess it. If he doesn’t talk to me about how he feels, I will not stay. I can’t.
Shit, see? This is already going downhill. I can feel it, but how am I supposed to stay away? I simply can’t. I already love him more than I love myself. And I meant it when I said if you find a Ryan Wilder in the world, you hold on tight to him.
I tiptoe out of the room, pausing at the threshold to look back at him. He's rolled into the space I vacated; his face buried in my pillow. The sight makes my chest ache.
I'm doing the right thing…for us both.
