Page 28 of Just Friends

Twohourslater,theend credits roll, extinguishing the light from the living room. Only the glow of the words on the screen illuminates the happy smile curving Hazel’s lips.

“So that’s what does it for you?” I ask, stretching my arms over my head.

“Alex, that’s what does it for every woman.”

I have to bite my cheek to keep from laughing, because although Hazel always says she wants men to act like they do in these movies, if we actually did, she’d think we’re crazy. “Okay,” I scoff.

Hazel’s eyes widen. “You don’t believe me?”

I lean forward until we’re almost nose to nose, so close that her individual features are blurred. My voice lowers, soft and smooth like fresh sheets or a whisper in the dark of night. “‘If I loved you any less, then I might be able to talk about it more.’”

Hazel’s intake of breath is quick, a sharp gasp that I feel in the pit of my stomach, like a cord that was tugged, begging me to close the distance between us and taste those lips that have been haunting my dreams for the last year.

I hold her gaze, taking this rare moment and memorizing it, because if this is all I ever get with her, I want it seared in my mind like a cattle brand, a permanent part of me. She smells like citrus today, like a slice of lemon cake drizzled with buttercream frosting. She can never commit to a perfume, so she has a collection under her bathroom cabinet, and she chooses which one she wants based on her mood. But I know, without a doubt, that this is my new favorite. I’ll never be able to look at lemons again without imagining the plump curve of her bottom lip, the dusting of freckles across her peachy-pink cheeks, the way her eyes dilate as they dip to my mouth and back up, so fast I’m not sure if I imagined it.

“Try that on a woman, and she’ll be putty in your hands,” Hazel breathes.

The moment dissipates like dew on morning grass, and I want to reach out for it and pull it back, hold on to it for a moment longer, but I sit back, putting space between us. “Good to know.” I clear the knot forming in my throat. “Speaking of—where are we going for our next date?”

Hazel reaches for my soda—since she’s already finished hers—and takes a long drink, her throat bobbing as she swallows. “Actually, about that…”

I cock an eyebrow, dangerous hope stirring in my chest.

“My mom called today and asked me to come home to visit this weekend.”

The hope catches flame, burning into a pile of ash.

“But she invited you too,” Hazel says quickly, and I can’t read the tone of her voice. It’s hesitant, laced with nerves, and almost desperate. And I don’t know what to make of that. Every part of me wants to read into it, to find a deeper meaning where there is likely none.

“Do you want me to go?”

I don’t know why I ask it, but maybe I’m a little desperate myself. Maybe I need a little scrap to hold on to, a lifeline to assure me that I’m moving in the right direction by trying to pursue her. Because it’s one thing to postpone our dates, but it’s another to postpone them to spend the weekend on a trip withme. And I really want her to want that.

Hazel blinks those big blue eyes, her head rearing back slightly like she’s surprised by my question. “Yeah, I’d love for you to come. Mom told me to make Cam and Ellie come too, but I doubt they will.”

“I don’t want to intrude on family time.” Even to me, the words sound like a paltry excuse, a plea to beg me to come.

“It’s not an intrusion,” she says. “I’d love to show you my hometown.”

Her eyes are sparkling like bits of stardust falling to earth, so mesmerizing I couldn’t look away if I wanted to. A pleasurable warmth spreads through me at the sight, an aching tenderness that reminds me of just how tightly she holds my heart in her hands. I am completely at her mercy and happy to be here.

“So it’s settled, then,” I say, the corners of my mouth lifting. I’ve never been so happy to cancel a date. In the past, there’s never been anything more enticing, but as the faint light from the TV illuminates Hazel curled on my couch, a blanket pulled tight around her shoulders, I can’t imagine ever wanting something more.

“What’supwithyou?”I ask Alex, nudging his shoulder. We’re standing in a truck stop off the highway, getting snacks for our road trip with Cam and Ellie, who, surprisingly, did want to tag along.

Alex is tense as he fills his cup with watermelon slush, harsh fluorescent lighting bouncing off the clear plastic domed lid. His shoulders are a tight line, and I have an overwhelming urge to slide my thumb across the creases between his brows. I shove the thought away. Ever since that night in his apartment when he looked into my eyes and quotedEmma,somehow managing to make it sound sexier than when Mr. Knightley himself said it, I’ve been having some weird urges. About Alex. My best friend.

His brow crinkles even further as he meets my eye. “Nothing.” A second later, he jumps back, watermelon slush covering his hand from where it overflowed.

Without thinking, I lean over and swipe my tongue over his thumb and up the clear lid, catching the runoff. When I glance at Alex, his mouth is hanging open, and a pained expression colors his features.

I step back, licking the last bit from my lip. “Sorry, that was gross.”

“Yeah, gross,” Alex murmurs, voice strained, wiping his cup with a napkin.

“Seriously, what’s up with you?” I ask, bumping his hip with my own.

When his eyes meet mine, a slow smile unfurls across his lips, eliciting a strange tingle deep in my belly. “Nothing’s wrong. We’ve been to this gas station before, though.”

---