Page 55 of The Pucker and the Princess
“No,” I repeat, “I kissed you because I wanted to. You were lying on my chest, and it felt so good to hold you. I’ve”—I hesitate, uncertain if I should finish what I was about to say, but I plow ahead because if any time demands total honesty, it’s this—“I’ve wanted to for ages. But we were friends. And you made it clear that all you wanted was to be friends. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or make you feel like I was just one of those assholes who pretends to be friends with a woman to get close to her and then gets mad when she doesn’t want to date him.”
She nods slowly. “So if I don’t want to date you? What then?”
I swallow, dread making my mouth dry. “Then … we don’t date. Obviously.” I force a laugh, but it sounds too loud. Too stupid. God, I’m stupid.
More nodding. “We’d still be friends, though?”
“If”—it comes out hoarse, and I pause to clear my throat—“if that’s what you want.” Clearing my throat didn’t help. The full sentence is as hoarse as the first word.
“What about you?” she asks, the words pointed. “What is it thatyouwant?” When I don’t immediately respond, she keeps going. “Because yeah,youkissedme. But I kissed you back. I cuddled up to you, too. I didn’t have to do that. If I really wanted to make sure that we were both clear that our relationship was strictly platonic, I wouldn’t have accepted that invitation. I would’ve made myself comfortable on the other end of the couch.” She clears her throat, looking out the window and talking so quietly I struggle to hear her over the road noise. “I don’t cuddle with my other platonic friends like that. I can’t think of a time I ever have, either.”
“What are you saying?” I’m so confused now. Why even ask if I’d be okay with just being friends if she wants more than that? What is she getting at by bringing up that she kissed me back?
“I’m saying that you didn’t force anything onto me that I didn’t freely accept and reciprocate. And I’m not sure why you’ve been acting all along like you’re some monster who’s forced himself on me. Because that was why you reacted the way you did, isn’t it? You felt like you’d crossed a line or taken advantage and you wanted to walk it back but weren’t sure how?”
A trickle of relief enters my bloodstream. “Yeah. Kinda. I just … I didn’t want you to feel duped or tricked or taken advantage of.”
“I didn’t,” she says, turning to look at me again.
Hitting my blinker, I take the next exit. We’re far enough outside of Seattle proper that we should probably turn around soon or we’ll end up driving all night. “That’s, uh, that’s good.”
She lets out a humorless chuckle. “Right, so the apology?”
Turning, I pull into a gas station parking lot and put the car in park. “I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable. I wanted you to know we could just go back to being friends. I wanted to say all of that, but then you ran off, and I didn’t get the chance. So I texted an apology. With the way you ran off, I knew I’d made it weird. Made you uncomfortable. I knew I’d fucked everything up. And I was sorry about that. I fucking love spending the evenings with you, watching movies or sports highlights or listening to you talk about your cars. I didn’t want to lose that.”
She takes a deep breath and looks out the windshield for a moment before facing me again, her features cast in high relief by the harsh gas station lights. “You realize we’ve been basically dating this whole time, right?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Marissa
I swallow hard as soonas the words leave my mouth, wondering if that was the best choice or not.
He did say that he kissed me because he wanted to, though. That he’d been wanting to do that for a while. Or did he mean he’d been wanting to cuddle with me for a while?
Either way, I think the two things go hand in hand fairly well.
If—and that might be a bigif—we’re going to actually talk about the possibility of this becoming more than just friends, we need to face all the truths head on. He’s been honest. Now it’s my turn.
Blowing out a slow breath, I decide to take the leap and trust that he won’t somehow use my vulnerability against me later.You’re not trapped, I remind myself.If he turns out to be that kind of guy, you can end things and move on. You’ve done it before. You can do it again. You’ll be okay. You can do hard things.
That’s been my mantra for so long that repeating those words to myself—you can do hard things—brings me more calm than anything else. And with that calm steeling my nerves, I tell him what I know he’s been dying to know about me as much as I did about him—why did you react to our kiss like that?
“I’m sorry for taking off before you could even say anything,” I say, my voice quiet but blessedly steady. “Everything between us has always been so easy. Well, with the notable exception of our first meeting. But since we’ve gotten to know each other, we’ve never been awkward or weird around each other. And then you kissed me, and that changed. You suddenly became this awkward, weird version of you that I’d never seen before. And I knew—I justknew—that the next words out of your mouth were going to be an apology. And I couldn’t take another rejection, another version of, ‘It’s not you, it’s me,’ another list of reasons why I wasn’t good enough.” My eyes fall closed, and I fight back the tears prickling behind my eyelids. “I’ve never, ever been good enough. For anyone. Not really. Not when it mattered. And I finally got away from all the people that made me feel like that, and I got a job where Iamgood enough, and even the people who were mad I got hired over them are seeing that I’m good at my job, and while they might not like me, they at least respect me. And then you kissed me, and you were about to say it was a mistake and apologize and tell me all the reasons I’m a great girl but not great enough to date.”
“Marissa—” he starts, but I shake my head, letting out a watery laugh, hating that I’m crying despite my best efforts not to.
Sniffing, I dash the rogue tears from my cheeks and keep going. “Just let me finish,” I whisper, and he lapses into silence, but I’m painfully aware of his gaze, the twist in his brow, the way he’s seconds from reaching for me whether I want him to or not. Thepoor man is using all his willpower to hold himself back right now, and I appreciate it more than he knows.
“I couldn’t take an apology,” I whisper. “And then you texted me the very thing I was hoping to avoid. I didn’t know how to respond. What to do. I couldn’t just pretend it never happened, not even when it seemed like that’s what you wanted.” Closing my eyes, I shake my head. “And even though it was fucking embarrassing for Tina to blurt out the fact she knows we kissed, I’m glad she did. Because it broke the ice for us to have this conversation. And I know we could’ve—should’ve—sooner. And I know it’s my fault for not being a grownup and facing this head on. I’m sorry for stonewalling you.” I spread my hands palm up in my lap. “I didn’t know what to do.”
He chuckles softly, reaching over and lacing his fingers through mine. “That makes two of us. The only reason I told Nick and then Tina is because I was desperate. I didn’t know what to do. I knew I was actively losing you, that the longer we didn’t talk, the easier it would be to never talk again. And the thought of that was killing me. I figured I’d freaked you out by kissing you and you didn’t know how to go back to being friends with me. And while I might want our relationship to turn into more than just friends, I’ll accept that if it’s what you want. I’d rather have you as a friend than not have you at all.” He swallows thickly, his fingers squeezing mine. “I care about you, Marissa. I don’t want to lose you.”
“I don’t want to lose you, either,” I whisper back. “You’re basically the only friend I have here, though I think Tina might be trying to be my friend.”
“She is,” he confirms. “And you can make up your own mind, but she’s a good friend.”
“Well, she apparently helped us to get to this point, so I believe you.”
