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I don’t like that thought at all. Because if I’m not spoiling Lizzie, it means that some other asshole will be. Spoiling Lizzie is my favorite pastime and something I’ve been doing since her parents moved next door to mine when we were six.
“I’ll always spoil you.”
“My future husband might get jealous.”
I give her a look that says he can go fuck himself. The asshole doesn’t exist, and I already hate him. I don’t care if she ends up marrying a prince, no one will take her from me.
Most people think that a man and woman can’t be friends, but I call bullshit, and our relationship proves it.
Sure, there are times when I have to remind myself not to stare at the swells of her breasts, or the soft curve of her hip, and every once in a while, I have to force myself to think of pink bunnies or some other froufrou shit to keep from daydreaming about her naked body, but who can blame me? I’m only human, and she’s beautiful. But I can control my feelings; I’ve done it for this long. What’s another sixty or seventy years?
My gaze falls to her left hand resting on my leg. I try to picture a ring sitting there—one given to her by a nameless, faceless guy—and I frown. When that day comes, it’ll obliterate me.
Maybe I’m the one who should be dating more.
“Aiden?”
“Hmm?” I take the spoon from Lizzie, grab a bite for myself, and hand it back.
“I know we said we’d talk about my date tonight, but I kind of just want to forget that it happened.”
“Did he hurt you?” Because if he laid a finger on her, I would kill him.
“No, nothing like that. But I just…” Her words hang in the air, the dejected tone of her voice has me wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close.
“We don’t have to talk about it.”
“Thank you.”
We sit for several minutes, eating ice cream and just existing. These are the moments I want in life. Quiet nights with my girl—a far cry from the things I wanted a few short years ago.
“Lizzie?”
“Yes?” She blinks and looks up.
My mouth goes dry. Do it, Aiden. “Let me take you out.”
“Right now?” She frowns at her shirt and bare legs. “I’m not wearing pants.”
“No, not right now,” I say, laughing. “Next weekend.”
“Like…on a date?”
“Yeah, on a date.”
Her breath hitches, and for a split second, a light flickers in her eyes.
That, right there. It’s the same spark I’ve seen each time I’ve asked her out or made a comment about the two of us dating. I know she wants to say “yes,” but like every other time, the light fades as quickly as it appears.
“Aiden…” Lizzie’s gaze falls to the floor, and ever so gently, she shakes her head. “You’re my best friend…” Her soft-spoken words trail off, but the meaning of what she’s saying hangs heavily in the air.
She doesn’t think of me like that.
She doesn’t want to lose our friendship.
Fuck, this hurts.
Seconds tick by. Eventually, she looks up at me, a sheen of moisture in her eyes. “One of these days, you’re going to make someone very happy, and she’ll be a lucky woman.”
