Page 19 of Crossing the Line

I hated it.

Sitting beside her, I picked up the remote and started looking for a movie to watch. Kelsie stared at the screen impassively, giving no opinion. In the end, I chose an old comedy that we’d both seen more than once before, hoping that something familiar would help ease the tension.

When the food arrived, it was a relief. We had something to do, a distraction from the tension that kept cropping up between us, making it hard to breathe the same air.

The movie played and we got comfortable. It didn’t feel quite like before, but it was a small step in the right direction. Time passed, and when I glanced over at Kelsie, I saw she’d fallen asleep leaning against the armrest of the couch.

Turning off the TV, I scooped her up into my arms for the second time today. This time, I carried her to bed, carefully pulling back the covers before I placed her on the mattress. When I covered her with the blanket, she let out a small, sleepy sound that struck me in the chest. For one wild moment, I thought about joining her in the bed, wanting to relive the faint memory of sleeping with her in my arms a couple of nights ago. She fit against me just right, and I could imagine her curling up against me, her warm breath tickling my skin.

But that was wrong. She wouldn’t want me to sleep in her bed.

That wasn’t what friends did, anyway.

I wasn’t going to leave her alone when she could have a concussion, so I decided to take the couch. Not the most comfortable place I’d ever slept, but there was nowhere else I’d rather be.

Chapter Eight: Kelsie

Damien’s deep breathing seemed louder than it should have in the silent hotel room. It was late in the morning—we’d both missed breakfast—and he was still asleep on the couch.

I didn’t ask him to stay last night, but I wasn’t surprised that he did. Despite the recent distance between us, I knew him better than anyone. I knew he would never leave me alone if he was concerned that I might be seriously injured, even if I was sure that I was fine.

I tried to ignore the warm affection in my chest as I thought about how he picked me up off the ground and insisted on carrying me to the med room yesterday. Then, there was the way he fussed over me all evening. None of that felt like simple friendship to me, but I had to stop thinking that way.

Walking past him, I went into the bathroom. After using the toilet, I stood in front of the mirror. I didn’t even bother to look at the bruise on my temple yesterday, but after the way that Damien fretted over it, I almost expected a huge, ugly bruise. Instead, there was a small, greyish smudge at my temple that I was pretty sure I would be able to cover with makeup for the wedding. It wasn’t too bad.

But I still had a slight lingering headache. Using water from the sink, I took two Tylenol.

As I stepped out of the bathroom, my eyes shot to the couch, only to find it empty. Damien was awake now and standing by the bed, stretching his arms over his head. His T-shirt rose, showing off the taut skin on his stomach and making my core pulse with desire.

I froze in place, even though there was a constant, gravitational pull that constantly urged me to get close to him. I hated that I still felt this way. Maybe a couple of days wasn’t enough time to get over two years of unrequited love, but I had hoped that the pain of his rejection would start to fade as I put distance between us.

But that’s not really working out, is it?

I couldn’t truly avoid Damien, and not just because we were on this island for a wedding and there were events every day that put us around each other. He was a huge part of my life, and I couldn’t imagine a world where that wasn’t the case.

Maybe over time, I could handle just being friends, the way he wanted. But for now, I needed space, as much as I could possibly get.

“You should go,” I said.

Hurt flickered across his face, and guilt burned through me. He helped me yesterday, slept all night on my uncomfortable couch. That meant something, and I knew I was being ungrateful, but the problem was that actions like that were the exact reason it was so hard to get over him.

I needed to protect my heart.

“The doctor said we should look out for signs of a concussion for twenty-four hours, just to be safe.”

“She said it was unlikely, and I won’t be alone for most of the day. The women in the wedding party are going to the spa.”

“Still, I want to make sure you’re okay until you leave.”

Damien stepped closer, placing a hand on my shoulder. The touch was familiar, platonic, and devastating. I wanted to move closer and shove him away all at the same time. My mind was a mess of contradictions.

I couldn’t stand it.

“Damn it, Damien,” I snapped. “Can’t you just listen?”

He flinched like I’d slapped him, then looked at me in shock. We rarely ever fought, but this felt inevitable. Every interaction with him felt like it jabbed at an open wound in the center of my chest. The pain of it was pushing me toward frustration and made it hard not to lash out.

“Kelsie…”