AllFreeNovel
Share Us
They reached the edge of her father’s back porch. Eddie slowed her steps and adjusted her trucker hat back further on her head so that her eyes were fully visible.
“I had a crush on you in middle school,” she said.
“You did?” He was surprised. But then again, maybe not. It wasn’t like he’d been a master of social cues at thirteen. He’d barely even noticed girls his own age. He’d mostly been fascinated by twenty-something pop stars in very little clothing.
“Yes. Bad. So bad.” She said it emphatically.
“You had a funny way of showing it, damn. You were my number one heckler on the ice.”
“All is fair in love and hockey.”
He grinned. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“Are you crazy? No.” She wagged her finger. “No way. Nope. I’m glad I saved myself that humiliation.”
That finger reminded him how she had been demonstrating crotchless underwear. He wanted to groan. She had no idea what she did to him.
“You know what’s ironic then? I have a crush on you now. You turned that shit around on me.”
“I did? You do?” She blinked at him like an owl, her brown eyes glassy from the alcohol.
Even swaying a little on her feet, Eddie was so beautiful she took his breath away.
But not only was she gorgeous, she was sweet and smart and athletic.
It was all so wrong and unfair.
Not one minute since Kendra had died had he imagined he could ever feel genuine interest and affection for a woman again. A relationship had seemed impossible. Until now. That he would meet Eddie again now and she would feel so perfect for him, and make him feel emotions he’d thought he was no longer capable of, was amazing and overwhelming in the best way possible. But the fact that she did not return those feelings, or couldn’t return those feelings because of her relationship, just fucking sucked.
“I did. I do.” It was more than a crush. He was falling in love with her, as crazy as that sounded. He’d been trying to convince Eddie that no one fell in love that quickly, all while he was going and doing it himself.
“That’s so weird,” she said.
If it wasn’t such a serious subject he would have laughed at her words. She sounded genuinely in awe.
He couldn’t resist touching her, so he reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Why is that weird?” he murmured.
“Because you’re you and I’m me.”
He had no idea what that meant. “What am I?”
“Not what you think you are. You’re not the party guy degenerate manwhore you pretend to be. Or maybe what people say you are. Whatever. Anyway. That’s not you. You’re an amazing father and a good friend and just a nice guy, Sullivan. A very nice guy.” She punctuated each of the last words by poking him in the chest.
His very chest that felt tight from her compliment. “I’m glad you don’t think I’m a degenerate manwhore.”
“I want you to kiss me,” she said. “I’ve always wanted you to kiss me. For seventeen years I’ve wanted you to kiss me.”
He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to kiss her lips, sucking the warm flesh into his own mouth. He wanted to kiss the narrow hollow of her elegant neck and kiss the sensitive flesh behind her ear. He wanted to cup her cheek with the palm of his hand and kiss her with passion and promise and every fucking thing inside him.
Except she was drunk and she had a boyfriend.
He studied her lips. “I want to kiss you,” he said, and his voice was low, raw.
She leaned in ever so slightly, questing.
He was in agony. He couldn’t let her do this, knowing full well she’d regret it sober.
But dammit if he wasn’t going to do it anyway.
