Page 11 of Why Not Me?

Me:No, I couldn’t sleep—if you didn’t want to wake me, why did you text me at one in the morning?

Landon:I was watching a movie with my brothers. I started thinking about earlier and sent it before I thought about how late it was.

Me:What movie?

Landon:They wanted to watchJohn Wick.

Me:I haven’t seen it.

Landon:It’s pretty decent. We just switched off the TV and they went to bed.

Wrapping the blanket from the back of the couch around me, I smile as we continue to text back and forth, falling into the easy conversation that we enjoyed before he ended things.

Landon:Are you still coming for your appointment tomorrow after you’re done work?

Me:Yeah, my neck is killing me. Especially after ax throwing this evening.

Landon:You went ax throwing?!

Me:Yeah, Brendan surprised me with a date night.

Unlike my previous texts, Landon doesn’t text back right away. It’s a splash of cold water, one that I think I needed. It’s totally inappropriate to be talking to the man I used to love when Brendan is sleeping in the next room, especially when I’m sitting here like a giddy teenager talking to the boy she likes. A sick feeling replaces the butterflies in my stomach.

This is a slippery slope, one we’ve been on before, and I need to draw the line in the sand. My attraction for Landon is still there, so I need to be cautious and create firm boundaries if we are going to proceed with this friendship. A friendship I know I should probably say no to, but when my phone pings again, I eagerly look to see what he wrote.

Landon:That sounds fun. I’d like to see you throw an ax.

Me:I kicked ass.

Landon:So—you’re my last appointment of the day tomorrow. Maybe we can go for a drink after.

Me:Okay.

Staring at my phone, I quickly type out a goodnight and shut it off. Rubbing my forehead, I shove up from the couch and rush back to bed.

Guilt fills me as I take in Brendan’s peaceful form. He has a small smile on his face and his lips are moving, almost like he’s having a conversation in his dream.

I feel one foot slip out from under me. If I’m not careful, my happy life is going to go up in flames.

Chimes announce my arrival at Landon’s clinic. Locking the door behind me as he requested, I tuck my shoes under the rack and hang my stuff on the hooks. As I round the corner of the wall that separates the entryway from the rest of the clinic, I freeze at the sight before me. My mouth goes dry as I take in Landon, shirtless and doing pull-ups at a bar I didn’t notice the last time I was here.

Landon as a nineteen-year-old was attractive. Landon as a twenty-six-year-old man is a work of art. His muscles flex as he lifts himself up before lowering back down at such a slow pace my own muscles ache in response.

Licking my lips, I tear my eyes away. My body feels too warm, energy pulsing through me as I fidget with the sleeves of my sweater until I hear his feet hit the floor with a thud.

This physical reaction to him is what lead us down the path of sneaking around. There is something irresistible about our connection.

Switching the song over, I laugh at the story Landon is telling me. My fingers are weaving their way through my hair as he locks eyes with me. We’ve been hanging out for several weeks now, but here in the confined space of my car, the tension is palpable.

By the time he finishes telling the story, I’m laughing so hard I can’t seem to stop. He smiles at me, his eyes twinkling.

“Oh my God, just shut me up.” Turning my head toward him, I gasp when his breath caresses my lips.

“Okay,” he whispers, before crushing his lips to mine.

Taking a deep breath, I slowly turn to look at him again, still lost in the memory of our first kiss. Shoving away the memory, I meet his eyes. “Sorry, I’m a little early.”

He gives me a wicked grin, his eyes locked on mine as he bends to nab his t-shirt from where it rests on a bench. Crossing my arms over my chest when he breaks eye contact to pull the shirt over his head, I grasp my elbows and hold on tight.

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