“It’s just a trend,” she says, voice bright, as if that explains everything. “Hashtag: KissingMyBestFriend. It’s huge on social media these days.” She shrugs. “Chill, Nate.”
My heart slams against my ribcage. “Are you saying that’s live? Tessa, what the fuck? You know I have a girlfriend. Robyn’s going to lose her?—”
“Jeez, relax.” She huffs, swiping at the phone with one hand, the other brushing my shoulder. “I didn’t post it!” Her laugh bubbles up like the whole thing is ridiculous. “It’s harmless. Has a million tags. I thought it’d be funny. No harm, no foul, right?”
I shove myself back against the door, chest tightening. Suddenly, the small cabin of my sedan feels suffocating. It smells of some citrus scent that isn’t mine or Robyn’s. My pulse is all wonky, my thoughts scattered.
I stare at her for a long second, trying to decide if I imagined that flicker of annoyance behind her smile. She tucks her phone into her bag and gives me the same soft look from before, then slides back onto the passenger seat, gathering her purse and phone. Her shoulder brushes mine enough to make me aware of the warmth. She seems unbothered, but how do I tell Robyn that my best friend kissed me and I didn’t push her away? That’s not nothing.
“Look, Nate.” Her gaze lands on me—bright, uncomplicated green, no hint of the darker shade from before. “It’s a joke. I didn’t think it through. I’ll talk to your girl if you want me to.”
Would Robyn even think that’s better? They’ve met only twice in passing, and there wasn’t animosity, but they never clicked.
“Or…” She tilts her head when my phone vibrates with a text, a faint smile tugging at her lips, and a loose strand of hair brushes my arm as she shifts. “You know, what she doesn’t know, can’t hurt her.” She pushes the door open, leaving the ball in my court, like she couldn’t care less what I do next.
And she can’t care the way I do.
She disappears up the stairs, and the scent of her hair and the faint warmth of where she sat lingers. I grip the steering wheel until my knuckles ache, pulse hammering in my throat. The cabin is too small, too quiet. Nothing happened. It’s better this way.
But the memory of her mouth—the press of her lips, the subtle warmth of her proximity— remains. It sticks in my chest, and more than the guilt or the cursing or worrying about Robyn, I want to shake the taste off, yet I can’t.
CHAPTER 4
The Change
Nate
Every timeI close my eyes, it’s there again: her eyes, that deep green I’d never seen before; the heat of her mouth pressed against mine; the slick sweep of her tongue. And menotstopping her.
I roll over, arm hitting the cold sheets on Robyn’s empty side. We still live separately, but we’re solid. Serious. She doesn’t just have a side here. She has a drawer, a shelf, the snacks she likes. A key. Just as I do at her place. We’re always together, one bed or the other.
Except last night. It was late when I got back, later than I’d planned, so I decided to go home. It felt like I owed her that. Not showing up in her bed with guilt and someone else’s taste. I’d sleep alone, get my head on straight, then face the new day.
It didn’t help.
When I reach for my phone, the screen lights up with unread texts. A photo of Robyn’s half-empty coffee mug from the hospital lounge. Her name scribbled on the board. A selfieof her tired smile. Long raven curls in a high ponytail, blue eyes dimmed with exhaustion, full and lush lips shining from lip balm. Lips that aren’t the last ones I kissed.Fuck.
She’s in the final stretch of this damn program—rounds, consults, case notes, repeat. Once she’s through, she’ll finally be able to breathe again. And I’ll breathe with her. I want her to get everything she’s ever worked for. She doesn’t need this meaningless distraction.
Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I rub the heel of my palm against my eyes. Feeling off-balance, I move through the apartment in the half dark and step over a sweatshirt Robyn left. The smell of her shampoo is still faint on it, and my stomach twists.
It was nothing. Just a stupid, impulsive joke—Tessa’s words.
A kiss that meant less than the thought behind it. And it’s not like I kissed her back. Notreally.
I crank the shower until the pipes groan, and let water scorch my skin until it goes cold. With my palms against the tile and chest tight, I breathe through the memory as it flickers behind my eyelids again. The scrape of her nails on my neck. Her smile against my mouth.
It’s fine. Like Tessa said, what Robyn doesn’t know can’t hurt her. My girl doesn’t need that image in her head. She doesn’t need to feel betrayed when she wasn’t. There’s no need for her to doubt us. Not when we’re solid. So fucking solid.
By the timeI’m dressed and out the door, I’ve almost talked myself down. I just need to see Robyn. That’s all. To kiss her—really kiss her. Deep and unhurried until we’re both breathless, with her laughing against my mouth. Until she’spulling me by my shirt, her fingers raking through my hair and her thigh hooked over my hips. I want to feelconsumedby her until the world narrows to the brush of her lips, the soft catch of her breath, the tangle of us.
I focus on my work, answering emails, reviewing proposals and floor plans, but by eleven, I’m restless. If I take a long lunch, we could eat together when her break starts. And when I kiss her, the love and desire between us will bloom inside me until I’m hard with the need to keep her close and have no room for anything else, certainly not the ghost of another kiss.
On a whim, I decide to rush out. Jogging across Dearborn Street, I slide one arm into my coat. By the time I’m standing outside Robyn’s hospital staff entrance, I’m sweating at the collar, pulse jumping. But I’m on time for her lunch break, and I’ve got boba tea and her favorite sushi order. Any second, she’s going to come out these doors, and we’ll have lunch together on the bench in the hospital garden overlooking the lake.
Now that it’s almost March, in four months and two weeks, her program will be done and we’ll move in together. She’ll finally get the sleep she deserves, and I’ll finally ask her. Grandma’s ring is still hidden in a shoebox inside a suitcase, behind a pile of old board games in the hall closet. That kiss isn’t anything unless I make it out to be.
Fifteen minutes passes without Robyn taking her lunch break, so I text her. A selfie outside her hospital, holding the goods. Her response is quick.
