to take her dainty hands in mine, and this time, the tears that cascade down my cheeks are happy ones. “Please don’t ever fuck off. And please ignore me when I tell you to. Or better yet, slap me silly. You’re a really good friend, Mari.”
She blows out a breath. “Those guys are complete assholes.”
“I know.” There’s no point in denying that, because despite my confusing feelings for all four of them, it’s the truth. They are assholes.
They’re devils.
“But,” she continues on, “I trust your judgement. If you want to be friends with Satan’s little helpers, then go for it.”
“Mariabella, you’re a fucking rock star,” I say sincerely, giving her hands a squeeze. She blushes instantly, attempting to duck her head, but I place a finger under her chin to hold her attention. “I’m being fucking serious. You’re an amazing friend, and I’m so happy to have you in my life.”
Mariabella smiles coyly at me through her fringe of lashes, but before I can comment on that strange look, she pushes herself onto her tiptoes and kisses me. For a moment, I’m struck speechless, standing there like an imbecile as her soft lips move over mine. She grabs my hands and places them underneath her sports bra until I’m touching the bare flesh of her pert boobs. I can feel her nipples grazing my palms.
For a moment, I consider kissing her back. I’ve never kissed a girl before, and I have to admit that her lips are softer than a male’s. And I’ve never touched any breasts before that weren’t my own. And fuck, I wish I could love her, truly love her in that way. I wish my damn, traitorous heart wasn’t pulling me in four different directions, towards guys I know will irrevocably hurt me.
“Mari,” I say gently, dropping my hands and stepping away. Her eyes are half-mast, glazed with lust, but at my rejection, they snap open and pain blossoms in their dark depths. “I’m so sorry.”
“I thought you were—” She begins to tremble slightly, her bra still bunched at the top of her breasts so I can see her beaded, rosy pink nipples. Feeling slightly awkward, I lean forward and rearrange her bra so everything’s covered. She lets me do it with a dumbfounded expression. “I thought you, maybe, liked me.”
“I fucking love you, Mari,” I admit. “But…”
“But not like that.” She sounds tired, defeated, and her entire body slumps as she drops onto the bench once more. “I just thought…” Another weary sigh escapes her again. “You looked at my boobs.”
“They’re really nice boobs,” I point out lightly, attempting to make her smile. When she continues staring despondently at her hands as if she’s never seen them before, I clear my throat. “Look, Mari, I had no idea you even felt this way. Especially after your recent breakup with Karsyn.”
“It’s not like we were actually dating,” Mariabella sniffs, and her words send a jolt of awareness through my system.
“What do you mean?” I whisper, stunned. I feel like I’m throwing a dart in the dark and praying it doesn’t kill anyone.
Mariabella snuffles again and brushes at her eyes with the back of her hand. I hate that I’m the one who caused her this pain. Fucking hate it.
But I can’t change my feelings.
“Karsyn has been one of my best friends since freshman year. He knew about my crush on Rebecca Dawson after I drunkenly confessed it to him. But he also knew about my parents.”
“Your parents?” I only met her mom that one time, but she seemed really cool.
“They’re super strict and…” She trails off somewhat helplessly, but I can hear what isn’t explicitly stated.
“They wouldn’t approve.” I place a hand on her shoulder before quickly dropping it, unsure if she even wants my touch right now.
“They would fucking disown me,” Mariabella confides. “Especially my dad.” She releases a choked, hollow laugh, finally glancing up from her hands to stare at the ceiling. “Karsyn and I decided to fake date last year. It was easy enough, considering the fact that we already hung out a lot. My parents didn’t ask any questions, and Karsyn wasn’t constantly hounded by girls. It was a win-win. That’s actually what you heard us fighting about. He wanted me to come clean, but I was scared, so he agreed to continue dating me. Well, fake dating me.”
“Until you broke up with him,” I muse softly, feeling a stabbing guilt in the pit of my stomach. But instead of the blade