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He sits down and takes his shoes off. “Let’s get out of here and go for a walk.”
“Um, okay.” I take off my bowling shoes and put my other ones on, all the while questioning the weird tension between us. Tonight has not been our smoothest interaction.
After we turn in our shoes, Jamie leads the way outside. He keeps walking until he’s across the street from the bowling alley on the perimeter of the park. “Thanks for all of your help with Sammy today,” he says before pointing at a park bench and sitting down. I join him.
“You’re welcome. I think I’ve mentioned it before, but I like Sammy a lot. She reminds me of myself at that age.”
He doesn’t say anything else, and the silence starts to get awkward. “What did you want to talk to me about?” I finally ask.
“I don’t want you doing that television show.”
This man is hellbent on making me crazy. “You don’t have any say,” I remind him.
“Maybe not, but I don’t think it’s the right thing for you to do.”
“Because I might meet the man of my dreams and live happily ever after?”
“Because I don’t want you to get hurt,” he says.
I shift on the bench so that I’m facing him. “You have a funny way of acting if that’s your motivation.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He has the audacity to sound offended.
“It means that if you were really worried about me getting hurt, you’d stop kissing me all the time.”
His face turns even more serious. “You said you were okay with us doing that.”
“I did,” I tell him. “But I’ve changed my mind.”
“You don’t want us to kiss anymore?” He sounds as surprised as I am to have said such a thing. Because the truth is, kissing him is all I want to do.
I confirm, “I don’t want to kiss you anymore.”
“Because you’ve stopped liking me?” Could he be any denser? The reason is clearly because I like him more than ever and I need to protect my heart.
“Because I’m starting to look for a serious relationship and I need all my attention trained on that task.”
“Melissa.” He reaches over and takes my hand. “Are you saying you want to stop being friends?”
I shake my head. As much as I should avoid him at all costs, I can’t imagine not seeing him. “We can still be friends, but that’s all we can be.”
“That’s all we are,” he reminds me.
I remind him, “I don’t kiss my friends the way I kiss you.”
“I don’t kiss my friends like that either,” he says.
“So, you understand?”
Instead of answering my question, he says, “You still need to pay off our bet. My team won the bowling match.”
“Fine. What do you want? Dinner out? A trip to Disneyland?”
He leans ever the slightest bit closer to me, while piercing me with his gaze. Then he gently strokes the side of my cheek. “I only want one thing, Melissa.” My insides turn into a pool of molten lava when he says, “I want one last kiss.”
CHAPTERTHIRTY-EIGHT
JAMIE
