I feel like I’m going to be sick waiting for him to speak. Luckily, he doesn't make me wait long.
“This is stupid,” he says and puts one hand on my knee. His other hand goes to my cheek.
His touch escalates my heart rate and my breathing at the same time.
“Dove, I want to kiss you. I want to do more than kiss you.”
His confession ignites something inside me. My body itches to climb into his lap and do exactly what he wants.
But the dread of how this could end badly pierces my heart and wins.
“I want that too,” I say softly, swallowing the lump in my throat and closing my eyes. “But I don’t want to lose you more.”
When I open them, the chocolate eyes that have seen me and been there for me for the last decade are gazing back.
“What do we do now?” I ask.
He kisses my forehead and then leans back, his arm resting over my shoulders as he holds me close.
“We do nothing,” he says. “We just keep being us.”
Just keep being us?
He makes it sound so easy, but why do I feel like it isn’t?
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
TOBIAS
I can’t remember the last time I slept on a couch, let alone on a sofa with another person.
Natalie is lying directly on top of me, her head just barely touching my chin as she sleeps soundly.
Fuck.
We almost kissed yesterday. We almost kissed last night. Hell, I told her I wanted to kiss her and more, and she said she wanted that too.
But she’s the smart one and reminded me of the consequences. Kissing your best friend doesn't always work out the way you want it to, but every once in a while, it’s the perfect match. I wanted to argue that that could be us, but her voice was so soft and full of worry when she said she didn’t want to lose me. The reality of our situation came crashing down, and there is no way I can guarantee things will work for us.
Natalie and I will be just friends.
Even as I say it, the words hurt my heart.
This, right here. I look down at her small nose and her beautiful long, thick lashes. This woman is so much more to me than a friend.
Fuck. What am I going to do?
The front door shuts with a loud bang, followed by adammit.
Natalie stirs, lifting her head as we both look over the side of the couch to see my sister sneaking in, carrying her shoes.
“What the hell, Quinn? Are you just coming home?”
She freezes, eyes wide.
Natalie pushes off me so that we can sit up, but it’s cold without her.
Just when I think I have no idea how to navigate the women in my life, Grandma Betty walks in, whistling.
