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“For trusting me enough to open up to me.” I stare at where my hand is still pressed against his chest, his hand on top of mine, and for a brief moment, I have the overwhelming urge to do the same.
I want to open up to him so badly I can taste it. I want to scream it from the top of my lungs, let it seep from every pore, cleanse myself of the poison that still flows through my veins every single day. Only I can’t make myself utter one single word.
“One of these days maybe you’ll trust me enough too,” he says, tipping my chin upward so that I’m forced to meet his gaze.
I open my mouth to respond, but before I can get a single word out, his lips are pressed gently against mine. It’s not the tear our clothes off kind of kiss we experienced that first time. It’s gentle, slow, and seemingly without real purpose. He’s kissing me simply to kiss me.
His lips move against mine so softly that when he pulls back seconds later it’s like the kiss never happened to begin with. Well, other than the sudden rush of emotion that threatens to knock me clean off my feet.
“There I go again.” He sighs, dropping his forehead to mine. “I keep kissing you when I know I shouldn’t.”
“Then maybe you should think before you act,” I attempt to tease, but it comes out too weakly to do anything other than give away just how affected I am by the feel of his mouth against mine.
“Where’s the fun in that.” I can feel his smile, even though I can’t see it, and it warms my entire body.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do with you, Anthony Treadway.” I finally pull back, happy to see his earlier turmoil has passed.
“I can think of a few things.” He winks.
“Such as…” I cock my head to the side, expecting some smart ass sexy comment to leave his mouth.
“We can catch up on the new season of Game of Thrones.” He gives me the biggest pretty please smile.
“That’s what you want to do right now? Watch Game of Thrones?” I look at him like he has five heads.
Even though the heaviness of the kiss still lingers in the air, I let it go. I don’t think either of us is really up for discussing what I think we both know is happening between us. We can tell each other we don’t want to risk our friendship until we’re blue in the face, but deep down I think we’re both a little scared of how we’re feeling. Or at least I know I am.
“I still don’t understand why you love that show so much,” I add.
“Are you kidding me, it’s only the best show ever,” he says dramatically.
“I think you just want to snuggle,” I tease, knowing that when we sit down to watch something we usually end up cuddling. Purely platonic, of course, or at least that’s what I tell myself.
“What?” He smiles innocently. “I can’t help it if you’re the best snuggle buddy around. I could use a good cuddle right now.”
“Now how can I say no to that face?” I laugh, squeezing his cheeks in a way that makes his lips pucker together.
