As the knot in my stomach the past sixteen-plus hours untwists, I smile. My unusual peacocking causes Melody to shake her head in mock disgust, but instead of deflating my inflated chest with a stab to my ego, she pumps more air into the catastrophe.
“I didn’t give Connor my number because I don’t want to date him.” I almost jig on the spot when she quickly adds on, “I don’t find him attractive. His nose is crooked thanks to too many bad tackles, and his breath reeked of energy drinks.” Something on her face shifts. It switches from the face of my best friend to the woman I plan to love for eternity. “He is also too rugged looking for me. I like my men with softer edges…” She drags her index finger down my round and embarrassingly inflamed cheek before tracking it across my quirked lips. “… and perfectly wonky grins.” I give her my best crooked smile when her eyes lift from my mouth to my eyes. “I want someone who will tell me I am brave even when I am sobbing, and who still thinks I am pretty when I am ugly crying.”
“You don’t ugly cry.” A small bout of laughter makes it hard for her to lip-read my next set of words. “You just look like you are vying for the part of Rudolph in the Christmas play at church.”
Her miffed expression relaxes when I squeeze her hand with mine, then it completely disappears when I tug her two steps closer to me. “Joey said you brought Connor over to make me jealous.” They weren’t his exact words, but with the tension between us the highest it’s ever been, I’m happy to summarize if it gets us to point A quicker. “That you purposely used the round yard so I would see you with him. Is that true?”
I realize courage comes in many forms when Melody dips her chin without the slightest pause for consideration. She doesn’t need to lie to me because she knows no matter how bad the crime, I’ll always forgive her.
“You wanted to make me jealous.”
I’m not asking a question, but she nods anyway.
“Because you don’t want to date Connor Eckhart.”
She keeps nodding, her head bobbing up and down as frantically as the little vein in her neck.
“You want to date me.”
It’s a little harder for her to nod this time around. Not because she needs time to consider a response, but because she needs to be cautious that we don’t knock heads since I’m narrowing my mouth down toward hers.
Our noses are touching, our lips are aligned, and for once in my life, the odds work in my favor. We’re alone and not undertaking a drill, which means I’m about to kiss the girl I’ve loved for more than half my life without any interruptions.
The plea for me not to make her wait another eleven years fades from Melody’s eyes when I press our lips together for the very first time. It sends a growling groan rolling up her throat before it’s trapped in my mouth along with her relieved sigh. We’ve touched, cuddled, and fondled a little more than average friends do, but this is the first time our mouths have been attached, and it’s even better than I imagined.
Her mouth is as soft, moist, and ten times tastier than predicated. It truly has me convinced she’s perfect in every way—kind, beautiful, and scrumptious—a banquet I could easily become addicted to.
Our kiss starts out soft and delicate before the teasing movements of Melody’s lips demand a more vigorous response. While relishing the little noises escaping from her throat, I kiss how I’ve forever dreamed to kiss her. It’s one of those kisses that sends sparks shooting down my spine, hardens my cock, and has Melody moaning.
9
BRANDON
W e’ve laughed, cried, and commiserated together the past twelve years, yet not once have I heard Melody moan like this. This isn’t a moan of appreciation when the gooey insides of a freshly baked cookie hit her tastebuds, or the one she tries to keep on the down-low when our movie marathons get more adventure off-screen than on.
This is one of pure delight.
One of need.
“Please don’t stop,” Melody begs when I kiss the corner of her kiss-swollen lips before inching back. “I have been waiting for this day for years, and it is even better than I expected, so I don’t want you to stop.”
Nothing but pure smugness beams out of me when I reply, “I am not going anywhere. I just need to close my bedroom door. Madden and Phoenix are home.” I don’t need to say anymore. Melody is as untrusting of them as I am.
When I lodge a wooden chair under the door handle, the rise and fall of Melody’s chest is heard more than seen. Even with my stomach being a bundle of nerves, I hate that’s she nervous. She’s never been uncomfortable with me before, and I’d hate for today to be the beginning of that.
“We don’t have to do any more than we already have. I just value privacy—”
I stop signing when Melody raises her hands to the tiny pearl buttons on her shirt. While peering straight at me, she unclasps the first button before quickly moving onto the second one.
“Melody.”
She signals for me to be quiet before her eyes reveal we’re not doing anything she doesn’t want to do.
When she unclips the third button, her breathing grows faster. If I believed her increased breaths were because of nerves, I’d stop this right now. But since I know her better than I know myself, I watch her like a hawk, incapable of tearing away my gaze. She’s always been beautiful, but the confidence beaming out of her right now takes her beauty to an impossibly new high. There are no blankets hiding her and no shelter. She’s open and exposed.
She undoes the fifth button on her shirt, then the sixth before lifting her eyes to mine. “I don’t just want to be your best friend either, BJ. I want to be your everything.”
Before I can tell her she already is, her blouse falls to the floor, and my eyes go wild.
