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Ben’s quiet behind me, but Zamboni seems to have run himself out and is sort of swaying on his couch perch, so I pick him up and give him a cuddle.
Sigh.
And the way he snuggles against me, those big, really big, not-quite-right eyes giving me a look that melts my heart.
“How in the world did no one want him? How could anyone resist? He’s got so much spirit and?—”
And Ben’s hand closes around my waist, turning me to where he’s stepped in close.
“Oh.”
“Lara,” he says, voice gruff, brows drawn low over eyes that search mine. Eyes that look almost pained and pull at something deep in my chest I’ve been trying to ignore.
I open my mouth to ask what’s wrong, but before I can make a sound, he pulls me in and kisses me.
18
Ben
This wasn’t part of the plan. It wasn’t something I thought through. Obviously.
This wasn’t me making a move for that relationship we already agreed wasn’t a good idea. It wasn’t even a play for another night of no-strings fun.
It was my emotions, besting me in one vulnerable moment.
It was Lara looking at my new dog and instantly seeing the very best in him when no one else could. And then it was my emotions blowing the hinges off the door to my heart, and from one instant to the next, the need to kiss Lara— feel the press of her mouth beneath mine for one second, two, and then three —becoming more critical than breathing.
And now, it’s me wrestling back control from that rogue fucker in my chest.
It’s me, reminding myself that I’m in control of my actions. It’s me stepping back, removing my hand from her side, and taking a breath before lifting my eyes to meet the stunned confusion in hers.
And Zamboni’s. He’s still tucked in her arms, looking from one of us to the other and back.
“Sorry.” It’s lame. Not enough. But somehow I get the sense that Lara understands anyway. “I know I shouldn’t do that. It’s just—” If she’s my friend, I need to be honest with her about this. “Sometimes I want things I’m not supposed to want with you. My rational brain knows it’s not part of the deal, that it would probably be a mistake. That we already agreed it wasn’t happening…”
She blinks, looking away. Then back with a small nod and a tiny furrow between her brows.
“It won’t happen again. Promise.” And then because I can’t stand the idea of rolling through any more of the reasons I somehow stopped believing, I retreat. “Look, I really need a shower. You can hang on to Zamboni or put him in his crate in my room if you don’t want to. If he’s tired, there’s a bed and a blanket and… whatever you want.”
I make a beeline for my room, grabbing some clean clothes on my way to the bathroom where I strip, muttering to myself about being stupid, needing to have more respect for Lara and her choices, and knocking my shit off if I want to have any chance of hanging on to this girl as my friend.
In the shower, it doesn’t get any better. What the fuck was I thinking? Yeah, it felt right in the moment. It felt amazing. It felt like?—
Like she hadn’t gotten her thoughts straight enough to haul off and slap me yet like she probably should have. Hell, like she probably would have if I hadn’t pulled back when I did.
I rub my hands over my face, trying to clear that troubled look she was wearing from my mind. Only it’s not going anywhere.
And worse, the more I think about it, the more I realize what an epic asshole I am. I need to go back and talk to her. Make sure she’s okay. And if she’s not— “Fuck.”
“Ben.”
My head snaps up, and I rub the water from my eyes, not quite understanding what I’m seeing on the other side of the glass. “Lara, you okay?”
“No,” she whispers.
And something inside me dies. She’s telling me she’s moving out. That kiss crossed the line and now I’ve lost her again. I feel the panic welling fast, am reaching for the glass door as I scramble for what to say to fix this, to convince her I won’t fuck up again.
I always fuck up.
