“Are you my dad now?” She rolls her eyes but still makes no move to leave the car. “Even Ham doesn’t care this much, and he’s my brother.” Her voice trails off, and her lashes flutter gently, like she’s struggling.
“That’s right. He is your brother,” I say softly, studying her side profile for any reaction. “But I’m your … friend.” I stumble over the last word; it doesn’t convey the feelings I have for her. There isn’t a word to describe the weird limbo of emotions I’ve been in with her.
Her jaw twitches, tipping me off that she is, in fact, struggling, and she maintains her straightforward stare fixed on the lake. “Right, you’re my friend.”
“Aren’t I?” I level my gaze on her eyes, challenging her.
She accepts my challenge, turning her head to me. “You tell me, Ty.”
My head jolts back in shock.How dare she even ask?We’ve been friends since she was nothing but knees and elbows. Even though these last few years the chemistry between us has been palpable, I’ve never said anything to indicate my feelings toward her. We are friends. That’s what we are because she’s always kept me at arm’s length, insisting she didn’t want to date anyone. Seeing her tonight with a date clearly means she changed her rule about dating. I guess I changed my rule about grinding my molars, because it’s all I can do in the moment not to belt out my true feelings. It’s complicated because we live in different states, and our synchronization, which used to be so easy, is always off now. Even with all the recent disconnect, the one thing that’s always stayed the same is July, together here. It’s an unspoken thing, where we come together and just vibe. Well, until this year, when she ruined it by bringing Bow Tie.
Dropping my gaze to my lap, I take a deep breath. This night needs a redo. More than anything, I look forward to this weekend all year. “Hey, I didn’t mean to ruin your date or anything. I was hoping we could hang out like we always do over the Fourth. If I’d known you were bringing a date, I would have made other plans.”
“Don’t.” Her voice is so soft it’s hard to hear. “I want to hang out too, but it’s not like you own me.” Dropping her tone into a whisper, she adds, “Plus, I might have gotten nervous to see you this year.”
The skin between my brows pulls tight—I am thoroughly confused, so much so I bleep out a chuckle. “Nervous for what?”
“I don’t know.” She raises her hand, tucking a long strand of hair behind her ear, giving me a front-row seat to her side profile. Stun. Ning. Yes, it’s two words for stunning because one isn’t enough to describe the absolute natural beauty she is with those pouty lips. I bite my lip, and she goes on, “You’ve changedso much since you started playing pro hockey. Like you’re literally famous.”
“I’m not famous.” I shake my head. “And even if I was, it wouldn’t change, you know, me being your … friend.”
“I guess I just wasn’t sure. It’s been weird. It was like whenever one of us called the other, we missed it, and it’s been a year of phone tag.”
“Yeah.” I nod dramatically, because I hated that too. She’s right about this year. No matter how many times we tried to talk, we always ended up missing each other. It was actually comical. Our timing was wrong. “What was up with that?”
“I don’t know, but it was the worst.” She’s quiet as her gaze drifts down, where she finds a string at the hem of her shirt and flicks it with her thumb. In an even voice she adds, “I’m proud of you though. Not just about hockey, but you seem to be doing really well.”
I continue studying her side profile as her bottom lip rolls under her top lip. I can’t help but think that nothing feels wrong now. It’s funny how you can go months without seeing someone, but the second you’re with them again, it feels like no time has passed. That’s how it feels with Lottie.
I forgot about Bow Tie already.
Well, come on—realistically, I will probably never let her live that one down.
“I missed you,” she says softly but keeps her gaze level on her hem. She has to know the games she plays and what she does to me. I’m so over not being honest about my feelings. Frankly, tonight was a huge eye-opener for me. For years she always swore off dating, citing no need for that drama, but seeing her date right in front of me is a nightmare I don’t care to experience again. I’m not waiting for Bow Tie to return and steal her from me.
“Same.” I swallow and raise one side of my lips into a grin.
“Well, I think we were both stupid tonight. You ruined my date, but I think you were right, it was stupid for me to be there. Just please don’t butt in like that again.” Her tone is flat, as if warning me, but she slowly cuts a glance level with mine, and it quickly undoes me.
“I’ve done a lot of stupid things in my life but, Lottie, getting you away from Bow Tie wasn’t one of them.” The space between us tightens.
“There’s no way you can know that,” she snaps, glaring at me. “And besides, even if you did know, why do you care who I go out with?”
“I care because I know how guys are, and because I c-care about you.” I trip over my words, then I abruptly stop, letting my statement hang there. I pray she hears it the way it’s meant to be heard. Not that I care about her in the sense that she’s my friend’s little sister, but in the sense that whenever she’s near, it’s impossible for me to function. After a moment of the thickest silence I’ve ever felt, her eyes leave mine, dipping down to an unmissable angle that zeroes in on my lips.
And I’m dead.
I’m no longer thinking with my head, as a magnetism takes over, and before I know what’s happening I lean in. Sitting next to each other, we were already close—but now we are so close her breath brushes mine. I’ve dreamed of so many versions of this moment, waiting for the nerve to finally make a move. It’s nothing like my dreams. I’m far from relaxed. My pulse quickens as the oxygen drains from my lungs. She’s not moving, and I freeze, giving her one more chance to resist—and that pause ends up being the death of me.
It’s long enough for her to gasp, and her hand slides to the door handle as she breathes out, “Goodnight, Ty.”
She slips out of the vehicle before I can make an audible reply.
“Night, Lottie,” I say, loud enough for her to hear, though she doesn’t respond. I stare after her as she slams the car door and hurries up the walk, alone, not waiting for me—clearly a warning to keep my distance.
I get it.
Maybe I get it?
