“You were in a fragile state and not eating them.”
“Twenty-three, we saw Garth.”
“I still have my ticket stub. That was one of the best concerts ever.”
“Twenty-five, you called me at midnight.”
“You were alone in Denver.”
“Twenty-eight, lo mein cake.”
She throws her head back and laughs. “That was innovative.”
“It was creative—that’s for sure.”
“Well, I’m just glad I’ve gotten to share all these birthdays with my best friend.”
Here’s that word again.Best friend.
It’s the safest lie we tell.
“Yeah,” I say. “Me too.”
Her gaze holds mine for a minute, and I wonder if she’s thinking about thirty and the pact.
Neither of us has said anything because it wasn’t supposed to matter.
And I won’t say it now.
Instead, I step closer and wrap my arms around her.
She melts into me, like she always does, but she never lets herself hang on too long. Her arms slide around my waist, and her cheek rests against my chest.
I close my eyes for a minute and breathe her in.
She tilts her face up, and I press my lips to her cheek. It’s simple and barely anything. But I feel her still. Feel the catch in her breath against my neck.
I’ve kissed her cheek before. Usually quick and teasing.
This isn’t teasing. This is slower.
And maybe a little too close to the corner of her mouth.
When I pull back, her eyes are on mine.
I can see the heat in her stare, and I know she’s as affected as I am. Then I see the shield slip into place.
“Happy birthday,” she says, calmly.
I smile in response and step back before I lose control and ruin everything.
“Thanks. Lock the door behind you.”
“I always do,” she says, rolling her eyes.
She unlocks the door and steps inside, then turns to face me again.
“Night, Saint.”
