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“You barely would come around if I was there, Tillie,” I point out. “I once asked Emily why you always seemed to disappear whenever I came around.”
She grimaces. “What did she tell you?”
“She said you didn't like me because I took her away from you, and you didn't like having to share her time.”
“That sounds like her,” she gripes.
“I kind of thought you were probably into chicks, but after a while, I realized that wasn't true.”
“So instead, you thought I was the pathetic girl who couldn't handle being without my best friend every minute of every day?”
“I never thought you were pathetic, Buttons.”
“Seriously, I hate that nickname.”
Confession time.
I reach out to touch her hand. “I love that name. It reminds me of the day I caught a glimpse of that sexy pink lace bra you were wearing. I knew it was wrong, but I would have given anything to see you stripped down into nothing but that bra that day, Tillie,” I admit.
She gasps. “What?”
I moan. “I wanted it so fucking bad. I wondered for days if you had on the matching panties. It drove me crazy.”
“Ryder…” she breathes, the sound whooshing out of her perfect lips.
“I need to know, Tillie. Did you?” Her cheeks heat with color, but she stays quiet. Slowly, her head drops down to look at her feet. I use my finger to tilt her chin up until her eyes meet mine.
“Were you wearing some pretty pink lacy panties that would hide that sweet pussy from me, Tillie?” I damn near groan, my cock practically throbbing.
“No,” she confesses, her answer is barely a whisper.
"Damn, that's a shame," I tell her with a smirk as she clears her throat.
“I was wearing a matching thong because Emmie laughed at me for wearing boy shorts one time when I stayed at her house. She told me guys don't look at girls who wear them.”
I sit back, taking that in. There's a lot there. Hurt, sadness, shame, and even a tinge of anger. I still don't know what happened between them, but I’m starting to think Emily fucked with her head as much as she did mine. For now, I push those thoughts away and keep my focus on the woman in front of me.
“That’s bullshit. That day was torture for me, baby.”
“It was?”
“Tillie, I wanted to touch you so fucking much that my hands were shaking.”
“But you were dating—” I lean over, catching her lips, thrusting my tongue into her mouth. Right now, I want to feel Tillie. Talking about anyone but her feels like an intrusion, and I don't want that. It's the past, and the more time I spend with Tillie, the more I am certain that she is my future.
When we break apart, I press my forehead against hers, then pull away slowly. I look into her eyes, wanting her to see the truth. “After that incident, I made the decision to try and avoid you. The feelings I had were so strong, I wasn’t sure I could control them. I also knew that I didn't have a right to feel that way toward you. Still, it doesn’t make the way I reacted to you—the waymy bodyreacted to you any less true, Buttons. I wanted you then, and I sure as fuck want you now.”
Tillie stares back at me. I can see the conflict written clearly on her face. My future is with her and she’s sitting there, deciding whether or not to believe me. I lean down, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. She closes her eyes and I kiss her closed eyelids for good measure.
“Let's get you home,” I whisper.
She lets out a shaky breath. “I'm not sure what's happening between us, Ryder.”
“I think you do,” I argue softly.
“What do you want from me?”
“Are you sure you want that answer?” I ask.
