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I felt like an asshole. I was pushing her. “Would you prefer not to see me again?”
“No.” She sighed. “It’s not that.”
“You haven’t returned any texts. You have never not talked to me for two weeks. We’ve never gone this long without talking. Are you mad at me?”
“No, Luke. I just needed some time.”
“Some time for what?” I asked gently.
She looked down and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have done that. It’s just that things got a little too intense for me and I got scared. I didn’t want to lose you as a friend, but I didn’t know how to deal with my feelings.”
I felt relieved to know that it wasn’t anything I had done. At the same time, I was upset that she had just disappeared without any explanation. But I understood how scary it could be to have feelings for someone and not know how to deal with them.
“Look, I understand that things got a little complicated, but I just want you to know that I value our friendship a lot. I don’t want anything to ruin it.”
She smiled and nodded. “I feel the same way. I’m sorry for running away like that. I was so embarrassed. I was humiliated by my behavior.”
“Your behavior?” I questioned. “What are you talking about?”
“I got a little carried away,” she admitted. “I’d like to blame it on the alcohol. Can we just say I was drunk?”
“I’d rather not.” I laughed. “Then I’d be the asshole taking advantage of you.”
“You didn’t take advantage of me,” she said. “If I remember correctly, I was the one who took advantage. I am so embarrassed I did that.”
“What is it you think you did?” I asked curiously.
“Uh, I kind of molested you.” She giggled. “I think, and I’m so embarrassed to even admit this, but I think I might have scratched you.”
I chuckled, touching the spot on my chest that had suffered a minor wound. Every time I saw the scratch on my chest, I thought of that night. The memory of her kiss flared to life. I was sad when it healed. I couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss. I had never felt that way before, and it scared me.
“Trust me, I wasn’t complaining,” I said.
She covered her face with her hands. “Stop. I’m so embarrassed. I’m humiliated.”
“Don’t be,” I said softly. “Just talk to me. I don’t know what this means.”
“It means I didn’t know how to act around you now that I crossed that line,” she said. “I didn’t want to lose you as a friend, but I also couldn’t ignore the way I felt. I’m embarrassed. I will get over it, but I just need to avoid you in the meantime.”
“Why?” I asked again.
“Because I don’t want you to think any less of me,” she replied. “We have never done that. You’re my best friend. I’ve never let myself think about you like that.”
“Like what?” I asked.
“Stop,” she groaned. “Don’t make me say it.”
“You have to say it, or I might not know what you’re saying,” I said.
She shook her head. “It’s just, well, lately I’ve been thinking about things.”
“Things? Me?” I asked hopefully.
“Yes.” She nodded. “I’m sure it’s just projection or the closeness of our friendship. The feelings got mixed up in my head and I thought they meant something else.”
I nodded enthusiastically. “Me too.”
“What?” she finally looked at me.
