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I couldn’t keep him hanging in the balance anymore.
“Landon, I… I love you, too.”
28
Landon
Itsoundedsotackyand cliché, but I could have sworn my heart stopped beating. There was no way that this perfect, beautiful woman could love me like I loved her. That we had allowed each other to date people, set each other up on dates, when we both were in love with each other.
I stared at Belle, my mouth open like a fish out of water, gulping for life-saving air.
“You do?” I just had to hear her say it again. And again. And again and again and again. Forever. I needed to hear those words from her mouth.
She nodded fervently. “Yes, Landon. I love you.”
I couldn’t help what I did next. Arms wrapping around her waist, I swept her up into an embrace and planted my lips on hers.
We had done everything together in our eight years of close friendship. But never had we done this. Never had I felt her perfect lips on mine, reciprocating an emotion that I couldn’t put into words. I loved this girl more than I’d ever loved anyone, and I knew that would never end. No one would ever be able to come after her.
Belle kissed me back with the same desperation to feel the bond between us. To ensure that this was real, that we were real. That the feelings we’d developed were as intense as we thought they were. And they were.
“I love you,” I whispered against her lips between kisses, pulling her body tighter to mine.
I felt her grin against my mouth, accompanied by a giggle. But I didn’t stop kissing her. I moved to her cheeks, her eyes, her forehead. There wasn’t an inch of her face that I didn’t press kisses to, all while she laughed at me. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” I said repeatedly while I kissed her.
Through her laughter, she replied, “I love you, Landon.”
“Why did it take us so long?” I asked her, moving kisses down her neck.
She just laughed some more. “Because we needed to see that there was no one better for us than each other.”
Her words struck me in the chest and I stood straighter, looking into her eyes. There was something so perfectly poetic about her words, about this, about us. And I couldn’t get enough.
Shaking my head, it was my turn to laugh.
“What?” She asked, her hands still holding onto my biceps.
“I just can't believe we played a game… to try to match each other with the perfect date. But the perfect date was right in front of us the entire time,” I said, pushing a wet strand of her hair behind her ear. We were both rain-soaked and shivering, but I barely felt the chill. All I could feel was the blazing love I felt for my best friend.
Belle joined in my laughter, and I finally pushed open our front door so that we could get dried off.
“Go shower and get warm. I’ll be ready with a movie and snacks when you get done,” I told her, walking with her to the hallway with our rooms.
She turned, jumping up and wrapping her delicate arms around my neck and planting another kiss on my lips. I groaned, pulling her further into the embrace and enjoying every second of it. When she pulled away, it was too soon. Honestly, I don’t think any amount of kissing her would ever be enough because I’d wasted so much time with her that I’ll have to make up for.
Then, Belle pranced to her room, and I went to mine to shower as well.
When I was done and wearing sweats and a t-shirt, I moved to the kitchen to get chips and salsa ready. This was the last jar of Belle’s favorite salsa, and I knew I’d be going into town to buy ten more tomorrow. I wanted to. I had to for Belle. I would do anything for her, including driving great distances for her favorite salsa.
I pulled up one of our all-time favorite movies because it felt appropriate.
Still, I couldn’t believe that any of this was real. I couldn’t comprehend that this whole time, we’d avoided each other and yet had feelings for each other. I shook my head at myself, wondering if I could have made my truth known sooner.
No, this was the perfect time for us. Which was why it happened when it did. This was our moment that we would remember forever, and every relationship before this had prepared us for this.
When Belle finally emerged, she was in fuzzy pajama pants, and my sweatshirt. My sweatshirt. Which I am fairly certain was only just in my closet ten minutes ago.
“I helped myself,” she explained when she caught me staring. But I wasn’t staring because I was upset that she was wearing it. I was staring because there was nothing better than seeing her in my clothes. It made me feral.
