Page 98 of When We Were Us
“I know. And I appreciate you saying that. Truly.”
“I think it would be entirely appropriate to block that asshole until you figure out what you’re going to do.”
“You sound like Ginger.” I laugh softly.
“She sounds like a smart woman.”
“She’s the best.”
“Tell me about her.”
I can’t stop the wide grin that splits my face when I think about my best friend. And it’s not just because I’m glad the topic has moved away from Derek.
“Ginger is amazing. She’s hilarious and so generous. And she’s a great mom. Her twins, Tate and Jordan, are three, and they’re the busiest little dudes I’ve ever met.”
I smile at the memory of them tearing around the house the night before I flew out here. Ginger let them stay up later than usual because it was my last night.
“We watched movies and ate popcorn while snuggled up on the couch, their tiny, sweaty bodies pressed between us when they finally crashed out. They’re a handful, but I love them.”
“Sounds like you miss them.”
I glance up at him and nod, a small smile on my face. “I do.” A sudden yawn hits me, and I cover my mouth to stifle it.
Concern crosses Hank’s face and he checks his watch. The clock on the wall tells me it’s just after nine. I’m sleepy, but I don’t want him to go.
“I should go. Let you get some sleep.”
The thought of watching him drive away has me shaking my head and meeting his eyes. “Will you stay?” I ask, still holding his hand. “For a little while longer?”
His eyes search my face for a few seconds, and then his lips tip up in a playfully sexy smirk before he gives my hand a light tug. “Sure, but I’m gonna need you to get closer. If that’s ok?”
I look down at the space between us and then slide closer to him. He wraps his arm around my back, pulling me in. We stay like that for a few minutes, pretending to laugh at stupid reruns on TV. I don’t think either of us are really paying attention though, because I can feel the tension, the anticipation.
I’ve been trying to keep my arms folded against my chest like some sort of praying pretzel, but the longer we sit here, the more uncomfortable it is. When I can’t take it anymore, I bite the bullet and stretch my arm across his abdomen, resting my hand on his left hip. His body immediately goes rigid.
“Is this ok?” I ask, tipping my head up to look at him.
“Sure,” he says with a jerk of his head, and he smiles down at me.
I don’t miss the slight bulge to the front of his pants, but I say nothing, and I settle my head back down against where his shoulder meets his chest. I feel thelight dust of a kiss on the hair at the top of my head.
A few minutes of silence pass and he takes a deep breath. I feel the vibration of his voice when he speaks. It’s sort of breathless, all rasp and rough edges. “I missed you so fucking much, Wrenley.”
I tip my head back to look up at him. His eyes search mine, his gaze dropping to my mouth, and then back up again. “Me too.”
A beat or two passes where only the laugh track of the TV show can be heard.
“Can I kiss you?” he asks softly.
“Should friends do that?” My voice is just barely above a whisper and my eyes shift back and forth between his. I don’t know why I didn’t just say yes, but here we are.
“Probably not.”
He closes the distance anyway.
The kiss is featherlight, lighter even than the first one at the bar. But it’s beautiful in its simplicity and has my heart rate spiking probably even more than before. That kiss was unexpected, impulsive. But this…this kiss is intentional, tender, and incredibly intimate.
He brushes his lips against mine again, but he doesn’t deepen it. Breaking away, he swipes the hair back from my face and gives me a small smile. Then, he pulls me back against him, tucking my head under a cheek he presses to the top of my head.
