Page 54 of The Pucker and the Princess
“Do I need to take you back to your car?” I ask after a moment. I need to know which way to go. Otherwise, I guess I could just drive around for a while? But driving around in silence doesn’t seem like it would accomplish anything.
She settles back against the seat and lets out a sigh that speaks of bone-deep weariness, and I hate that I’ve inadvertently added to her burden.
She’s told me some about the guy she almost married—Peter. Even though she broke up with him several years ago, she still clearly bears the scars of that relationship. I privately swore to myself that, if nothing else, I wouldn’t be like that douchecanoe. And look at me? I’m hurting her every bit as much as he did.
Sure, not for as long. She put up with his bullshit for too many years—by her own admission.
But am I really much better?
He strung her along, letting her believe they were on the same page with where their relationship was going. Haven’t I basically been doing the same thing?
Sure, we weren’t physical—other than the cuddling that ended with a kiss. We were “just friends.”
But were we?
I’ve been spending way more time with her than any friend I’ve ever had before. She’s the first one I want to talk to when anything happens, whether good or bad. The only other people I’ve ever spent this much time with other than my parents is women I’ve been dating.
Have I been subconsciously treating her like my girlfriend while officially keeping her in the “friend” category this whole time? Has she been wanting more from me? Is that why she’s so hurt by my reaction to our kiss?
Would I want us to be more than friends? To slide from friendship into an actual relationship?
If everything could stay the same but I also get to kiss her? Hold her? Hold her hand when we’re out together? And more?
Hell, yeah. I’d be one hundred percent on board with that. I just didn’t even let myself dream that might be an option.
Women like Marissa don’t go for me. She’s too classy and perfect and polished. A princess, worthy of respect and adoration. She needs someone tocherishher. And as much as I’d love to be the lucky guy who gets to do that, I haven’t taken so many hits to the head that I’m dumb enough to think a smart, classy lady like her would go for a oaf like me.
“Can we just talk?” she says at last. “You can park somewhere. I dunno. I feel like if you take me back to my car, that’ll be the end of it, and …”
There are so many ways I can fill in the blank she leaves dangling.And we’ll never speak again. And I’m not ready for the night to be over. And … I miss you.
That’s all true for me. I don’t want to never speak to her again. I’m not ready for the night to be over. And god, I fucking miss her so much.
Swallowing the words trying to crowd their way out, I nod, driving away from downtown and getting on a freeway heading east. We’ll head toward the mountains. We can find somewhere to stop before then, but it’s away from town, and that’s what we both need right now.
“Where are we going?” she asks after a moment.
I shrug. “Not sure. Somewhere out of the way.” Glancing her way, I catch her head dip in a nod.
“Can we talk while you drive?”
I blow out a breath and drum my thumbs on the steering wheel. “Yeah. Traffic’s pretty light right now.”
“So …”
The awkward false start makes me grin, but I wipe away the smile as soon as it sprouts. I don’t want to piss her off more. “So …” I repeat, and when she chuckles, my grin comes back.
“God, have we ever had this much trouble talking before?”
I shake my head and clear my throat. “Not that I can remember.”
“Me either.” She sucks in a deep breath, turning to face me for the first time since we got in the car. “So what happened? That night, I mean. On your end.”
I blow out a harsh breath and shake my head, reviewing that night in my head for the millionth time, but this time pulling away the lens of regret I’ve been using to view it through since she hightailed it out of my place and never looked back. “I got scared,” I murmur.
“You kissed me because you got scared?”
“Ha. No.” I glance at her and roll my eyes, happy to see she’s smiling. There’s still wariness in her face, but there’s a smile too. That gives me hope. Swallowing the lump of nerves in my throat, I shake my head and refocus on the road, moving into the right lane and deciding not to care about passing anyone. If someone in front of me is going slow, I don’t care. I’m not going anywhere in particular, after all.
