at least ten balls into her yard the first two weeks she lived there. Not once did she look up from her book. It didn’t matter how close anything came. She was oblivious to them.
So one day I stomped over there and stole her book.
She talked to me then all right. Yanked her book back and told me to stick it where the sun doesn’t shine.
Being the absolute dumbass I am, I did it again the next day. And the next.
I was there every day until she finally gave in to my advances, taking pity upon a bored neighbor kid and talking to me.
We’ve been inseparable since.
Through all the awkwardness of high school, first kisses, and first dates, the loss of innocence. Through first car wrecks and heartbreaks. Hell, we even survived college together for fuck’s sake.
But this? It’s a whole different kind of difficult to navigate, and it’s the exact reason we had those lines. The exact reason we stayed on our respective sides.
Thoughts like this begin to creep in, and you can’t control them. You’re suddenly thinking of ridiculous things like how soft your best friend’s hair looks while you’re trying to make your morning coffee.
The timer sounds, signaling the brew is finished, and I push off the counter, heading toward the caffeine I’m in desperate need of.
Yeah, that’s it—I just need a good dose of caffeine.
These ludicrous notions have nothing to do with last night and the thoughts that lingered in my head until the wee hours of the morning.
“Big cup,” Caroline requests quietly.
I peek over at her, surprised.
Unlike me, Caroline isn’t a caffeine-aholic. One small cup can get her through an entire day while I down at least a pot, sometimes two depending on the extent of the latest project.
“You want the big cup?”
She nods. “I need it today.”
Another blush steals up her cheeks.
“Thank fuck.” I blow out a relieved breath, so fucking glad I wasn’t the only one up all night.
“You too?” she asks, her voice full of hope as she comes to life for the first time this morning.
Nodding, I reach into the cabinet, pulling down the bigger cup she requested, and begin filling it with coffee.
“I didn’t fall asleep until like two AM.”
“Me either!” she says, nearly coming off her stool in surprise and probably relief. She clears her throat, tucking a stray hair behind her ear, settling back down into her seat. “My brain wouldn’t settle down. It was all I could think about.”
Pausing mid-pour, I raise a brow at her. “It was?”
Her eyes widen as her words reach her own ears, and then she rolls them. “Not like that. I meant all I could think was Crap, did we screw this up? Repeatedly. Stuck in my brain like a time loop.” She rubs her temples, then drags her palms down her face. “Did we screw this up, Coop?”
I can barely make her words out since she’s hiding behind her hands.
I finish pouring our coffees and replace the pot. I grab both mugs, keeping one for myself and sliding the other across the counter to her.
She doesn’t reach for it.
With a sigh, I move our cups to the side and lean across the bar until I’m just inches away.
“Care, look at me.”
“No.”
“Caroline Beatrice Reed, look at me.”
She laughs lightly. “You know that’s not my middle name. I don’t know why you change it every time you use my full name.”
“Because Agnes doesn’t fit you and we both know it.”
“And Beatrice does?”
“No, but it makes it more fun.”
“True.”
I reach out and wrap my fingers around her tiny wrists, pulling her hands away without a fight. I grin when I see her eyes are screwed tightly shut.
“You better look at me or I’ll tell your dad you snuck out of the house to make out with Bobby John in the tenth grade.”
She groans, peeling her eyes open. “Bobby John—what an awful name.”
“You kissed him knowing his name.”
“Don’t remind me.” She curls her lip, then tucks it between her teeth, looking at me with those baby blue eyes that always get me to do anything she wants.
This time they aren’t filled with a plea to watch some obnoxious teen drama, but instead, they’re begging me to reassure her our friendship is intact.
“We didn’t screw it up.”
There’s an inkling of relief creeping into the corners of her eyes, but she’s still scared.
“Promise,” I tell her. “In fact, I think it’s good we now both know how much you want my cock.”