Page 56 of One Little Kiss
I’m causing a scene. Me. The easygoing, laidback charmer who can laugh at anything, even the fact that his parents didn’t know he made the playoffs and that he still has no plan for the future.
I can laugh off anything…but this.
“What is this?” She glares at me. “Are you jealous?”
“Are you avoiding the question?” I shoot back.
Her lips thin as she plants her hands on her hips. A gust of wind hits us and even though she doesn’t seem to notice as she glares at me, I see the goosebumps on her arms and curse under my breath. I shrug off my coat.
“What are you doing?”
I wrap it around her shoulders by way of an answer, and I tug the collar shut. And…I don’t let go.
I should. But I don’t. Instead, I hold her like that. In my coat and mere inches in front of me. She stares at me for a long moment like she’s never seen me before.
And maybe she hasn’t. Not like this. I can’t bring myself to smile or laugh. Because there is every chance I am ruining our friendship, but I can’t bring myself to stop it.
I can’t let her go back to Dominic without…
Without what?
Kissing her?
Telling her how I feel?
I miss the chance for both because she tugs back and my hands fall away. Her voice is winded when she says, “What are you doing?”
I open my mouth and shut it. I have no plan. I’ve given this zero thought. I stupidly hoped apologizing and showing her what a good friend I am by offering to help her pass that driver’s test would be enough to make things right.
But I did not plan for the moment when my heart took over leaving sense flailing in its wake.
She takes a deep breath and my gaze falls to her mouth as her tongue darts out to wet her lips.
I swallow hard and force my gaze back up to her eyes. But it’s too late. I know she’s seen my reaction.
She knows. She has to know.
“Were you going to kiss me?” It’s a whisper but I hear her.
“No. I…” It’s hard not to wince. With a heavy sigh, I run a hand over the back of my head and mumble, “I know we have to talk.”
“At the playoffs after-party,” she clarifies, and there’s frustration and something more in her voice.
I know exactly the moment she’s talking about. I’ve been reliving it every minute, of every day, ever since.
There’s a flicker of hurt in her eyes that’s so vulnerable it confuses me until I have this memory of Pamela and her big mouth. And all at once I’m blurting out, “I didn’t hook up with Jordan.”
Her lips part.
“Not ever,” I say for good measure because Jordan is one of Pamela’s friends and I try to steer clear of that crowd at all costs.
“Okay,” she says slowly.
“And not at that party,” I add.
Understanding flickers through her gaze, and is that relief I see in her eyes?
Does that mean…
