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That kiss disarmed me completely.
Usually, I would have been able to come up with something snappy to say and put him in his place.
Friend zone him for the safety of my heart.
But as I looked into his eyes, I could see the rawness and vulnerability, and the connection between us had been a shockwave to my system.
When I looked at him, all I wanted to do was write poetry.
Right… I might be leaving for three months.
“I don’t know what to say,” I said, feeling my cheeks flush with longing.
He straightened up and nodded. “When I saw you with Rick today, I knew I needed to let the idea of you go. That was what I was going to tell you. That I don’t want to stand in the way of your happiness with someone else. If you want Rick, you should explore that.” He shook his head and wiped the palm of his hand over his face in an aggravated sigh. “But just being near you pushes me over the edge, Emily. I just… I just needed you to know how I truly felt.”
A tidal wave of emotion rushed through me. With every blink, I felt closer to the edge of something, but I didn’t know what.
Tears?
Happiness?
Joy?
Fear?
I shook my head, and Lucas’s expression fell. My breath hitched when I realized he thought that was my answer.
I had no answer.
He started toward the room with the boxes, but I grabbed his wrist. “No, Lucas. That wasn’t it.”
Lucas turned toward me, and I could feel his gaze etching into my soul, waiting for me to say something.
“I had no idea,” I said softly.
He rubbed the back of his neck and shoulder and let out a gust of air, nodding. “I thought you had some inkling. I’ve tried asking you out a million times.”
“I thought you were kidding. We’re complete opposites. I like the country. You like the city. I like staying in. You like being out. I read. You don’t.”
His lips rolled into a smile, and he laughed.
For a second, I let myself imagine what it would be like to be in a relationship with Lucas.
But I couldn’t.
I could only see the end, where my heart got broken because he got bored.
“You get easily bored,” I said softly. “What if you get tired of me?”
“I could never get tired of you.”
“You don’t know that. I’m really annoying. High-maintenance.”
“Anyone who has food as old as you do in the kitchen can’t be that high-maintenance,” he teased, and I let out the breath I’d been holding in.
That right there was what was so special between us. We could tease one another and talk about anything and everything.
Except us.
