Page 96 of Just Friends

“I wanted to say some things of my own, but I got distracted.” The corners of her lips twitch before settling back down. “You said I’m everything,” she says, her voice cracking.

Again, all I can do is nod. I’m worried that if I try to speak, the words will tumble out again, not making any sense, an outpouring of love that’s been locked behind a cracking dam for too long.

“You saidI’meverything,” she says again, enunciating the word. “But to me, it’s you who’s everything. You’re safety and friendship. Forcing me to get sunshine when my mind goes dark. Always having a scrunchie and ordering me a drink because you know I’ll end up wanting one. You’re movie marathons and reading to me until I fall asleep. Taking care of me when I’m hurt and calling me when you have a feeling I might need you.”

She stops, her words choked with tears, and I reach up, trailing my thumb across her cheek to catch them.

“You’re everything, Alex, and I love you so much it hurts.”

My heart careens to a stop in my chest, wheels squealing on pavement. “What did you say?”

A bright, dazzling smile crests over her face like a sunrise, and she lets out a wet laugh. “I said I love you, Alex.”

I want to close the distance, taste her and touch her until we’re both bleary-eyed and not thinking clearly. But I don’t. Not yet. There’s one more thing I need to know.

“And you’ll be with me?” I ask, scared of the answer.

Her eyes shutter for just a second, but she doesn’t try to hide it from me, doesn’t pull back and disappear. “I’m still scared,” she says, and my pulse skitters. “I’m scared of losing you, but I’m more scared of not trying.” Her eyes hold mine, fire dancing behind them, and I can feel the flames licking at my soul, threatening to set me ablaze. “Yes, Alex. I want to be with you. Be with me. Let’s be brave together.”

I don’t need further encouragement.

If the last kiss was tentative and testing, this one is bruising and accepting. A clash of teeth and tongues, hands against skin and bodies fusing together. It feels like lighting a match against tinder and watching it go up in flames.

Hazel’s hand slides into the collar of my shirt, and my eyes roll to the back of my head. Her skin against mine is the stuff of dreams, ones I never imagined would come true. She sighs against my mouth, and I take advantage, kissing her harder, until we’re both gasping.

My lips trail across her jawline, learning all the places that make her gasp or squirm, saving them away for later. When my tongue traces a line down the slope of her throat, she moans my name, and I have to let go of her hips and bury my hands in the couch cushions.

I let my mouth slide along her collarbone. Not kissing, but just feeling, memorizing. When I get to that tiny strap, I nudge it down with my nose, pressing a kiss to the little indentation where it used to be. Hazel’s breath comes in loud, panting gasps, and when I look up at her, I think I’m coming undone. I don’t know how I ended up here, but I never want it to end.

“Say it again,” I rasp, my voice like sandpaper.

Hazel’s face softens, her eyes lightening like the last tinges of night fading into the sunrise. Her hands come up around my face once more, thumbs swiping over my cheekbones. She’s got a beard burn on her neck, and it sends a pulse of desire straight through me, a want so visceral I think I’ll die if I don’t touch her again.

I let my hands settle back on her hips, tugging her closer until she’s blurred around the edges. Until the only thing I can see is Hazel. My Hazel.

“I love you, Alex,” she says and presses her lips to mine once more.

This kiss is slow, our lips swollen, our tongues tasting. I think I could do this forever and never get sick of it. Kissing Hazel feels like stealing magic that never belonged to me. A wish on butterfly wings that was never meant to come true.

But it did, and my chest aches from the force of it.

I grip her tighter, deepening the kiss, and I see stars when she rocks against me.

A knock on the door jars us apart. We stare at each other with wide eyes, our lips bruised, and our clothes rumpled. It takes a minute for me to figure out who’s here, to remember the dinner order we placed.

“Dinner,” I pant, and Hazel’s head hangs, her shoulders sagging.

I push to my feet, carrying her with me toward the door, and she squeals. “Let me go!”

“Not a chance,” I say, holding her tighter, and her thighs squeeze against my hips. She’s laughing into my shoulder when I swing open the door. The delivery driver, for his part, doesn’t comment on the woman wrapped around me, clinging like a barnacle on the bottom of a ship.

“Thanks, man,” I say, and he nods, not even acknowledging the situation.

When the door snicks shut, I set Hazel down, propping one hand on the wall beside her head.

“I hate you,” Hazel says, but her eyes are sparkling.

“No, you don’t,” I say and dip my lips to that spot on her neck that I now know makes her shiver.

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