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And that’s why I always thought — especially after that phone call and how he refused to help me — that he must’ve told Lucas everything. That he must’ve put the blame on me because it did belong to me, and preserved his friendship.
But he didn’t.
He kept my secret.
It reminds me of the first time we’d met. When I’d lied to him and he protected me by keeping my secret.
He’s somehow always protected me, hasn’t he?
So no, I’m not giving him up.
AndI’m getting him his best friend back.
“I’m going to tell Lucas that it was me.Imade the first move. And if he wants to be mad about that then he can be mad about that. But he can’t just forgive me and not you. He has to forgive usboth. He has to take both of us back, not just me. It’s not fair to you. It’s not fair after everything that you’ve been through and after everything that you’ve done for him.”
I know that a kiss is a kiss, and that Reign did kiss me back after his initial non-participation.
But it doesn’t change the fact that I was the one who started it.
And while I’ve kept it a secret all this time, I think I need to let it out. I decided it right after his phone call. Exactly the moment when I decided that I’m not giving up Reign; although there was no decision involved there, but still.
Lucas needs to know everything and he needs to forgive his best friend. And again, if that makes me a bad girlfriend then so be it. I’ll find other ways to be good.
“You did, didn’t you?” he says in a low voice.
My nod is jerky, ashamed. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“What?”
In response, he puts his hands on me.
On my waist and holds on. Like he did when he carried me over like spoils of war. And I’m not going to lie, I love it. I also love how he’s shifting between my spread thighs, adjusting our positions so we’re even more locked together.
Good.
I wind my arms around his neck too, even more firmly and tightly, and hold on.
I don’t want him going anywhere.
Hecan’tgo anywhere.
“Why did you make the first move?”
His softly rasped question makes me come out of my happy daze and blink. “What, what do you mean?”
Keeping his eyes intent and steady, he says, “You hated me back then, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“So then,” he licks his split lip, “why did you come on to me?”
I swallow. “I… It was… It was a mistake.”
His fingers on my waist tighten for a few seconds, almost fisting my dress. “Was it?”
“Yes,” I say. “Y-you know that already. I made a mistake. We both did.”
