Page 15 of One Lovely Lie

He shakes his head. “It’s not a pity kiss, Daniel. I want to kiss you.”

Oh, how many times I’ve dreamed of hearing those words come out of his mouth, but they feel wrong. It feels forced. It’s not romantic like I once pictured. It’s him kissing his best friend because he feels sorry for him.

“No,” I say with a shake of my head, resisting the urge to just slam our lips together. “No, I’ll find someone else to kiss. I’m hot, right? That’s what you said. I can find someone.”

“Come on. It’ll be special,” he says sweetly, reaching up confidently to grasp my chin and trail his finger against my lips. “You know I’ll make it special for you.”

Magnus is pushing this and it doesn’t surprise me. He’s always been pushy. When he gets it in his head that he wants something, he goes and gets it. For some reason, he’s decided that he wants to kiss me—me—and I’m not too sure what that thought does to me.

Well, I know what it does to my shamelessly hard cock, but that’s about the extent of it.

“Do you trust me?” he whispers, leaning in so that our lips are a hairsbreadth apart. The moonlight emphasizes his galaxy-black eyes and illuminates the beautiful contours of his face.

I lean into him because I can’t help it. It’s like gravity pulling me in. It’s like he’s a magnet that I want to snap into. The soft breeze grazes my surprised lips and I can feel my fingers trembling from their place on his chest. “How can you ask that?”

I trust him with everything.

It’s those last words that cement the moment, that make him take the last step that leads to his lips on mine.

And it’s everything I always thought it would be.

Magnus dips his head down and our lips connect akin to a storm that washes over the both of us. It doesn’t surprise me that I feel little electric bolts coursing through my body. It’s just a simple brush of our lips, but my fingers dig into his t-shirt because I don’t want this to end. Even this tiny, brief contact is everything I’ve ever wanted from him.

Our bodies keep a respectable but irritating distance until I take a leap and gently run my tongue along his bottom lip. This does something to him because he immediately lets me in with a growl, his fingers digging into my hair and bringing me closer.

It’s too hot. I’m too hot. Even the autumn breeze can’t cool me down. He latches one hand on my lower back as the other wraps around the nape of my neck. I take this chance and run my fingers through his hair. Oh, shit. It’s so fucking soft. I want nothing but to be able to touch it whenever I want.

We’re breathing each other in and I should put an end to this. He gave me my first kiss, that’s all he wanted to do, but I can’t stop now.

I force my hands to his chest because they’re dying to dive under his shirt and feel all those muscles I dream about. I want to lick my way up his neck, inhale him, and stay in this moment forever.

But forever isn’t a real thing. Dreams are fleeting. Reality is always in the background ready to bring you back down.

He pulls away and his face and neck are flushed. Beautifully flushed. His full, red lips are all puffy and wet. His cheeks are bright pink under his tan skin. His hair is mussed up, even though I barely touched him.

“So…” he begins, licking his lips, looking too eager for my liking. “Special?”

“Special,” I breathe, dropping my forehead against his.

“So, am I forgiven for prying into your sex life?”

“Forgiven.”

“So, can I get more than one-word answers?”

“I love you.”

Because I do. I love him so much that it hurts. I know that he won’t take my words the way I mean them. I know that we have the type of friendship where we tell each other that we love the other constantly. That’s what happens when you’ve known someone since birth. Declarations like this aren’t shocking, they aren’t surprising, and they don’t change your perspective on things.

“I love you too.”

Just like I know he doesn’t mean it the way I do. Not the way I want him to. He kisses my cheek, then my forehead, but it doesn’t feel like all the other times. No, this kiss has changed me.

It’s made me realize that I really can’t do this anymore. I just can’t. I’ve had him, I’ve tasted him, I’ve felt him, and I can’t come back from that. I can’t and my heart can’t.

This is it for me. I have to separate myself from him. I have to remind myself that all we’ll ever be is friends.

After this, I’m done. Say goodbye, crush, because this was the final straw.

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