I swallow, my lips brushing against her leg with the movement.
“We should go to bed.”
I look up at her, and her face flushes with embarrassment. “Not together,” she rushes out. “Separately.”
With a whole lot of willpower, I pull away from her and tilt my head back.
“About Friday…” She darts her tongue out to wet her lips, and I remember just how good that same tongue felt against my own just three nights ago. “We can’t.”
Two words.
Whispered.
Yet so fucking loud.
She doesn’t want this.
She doesn’t want me.
I push to my full height, putting distance between us because I really fucking need it.
She stands there, wringing her hands together, lip tucked between her teeth.
“It’s just…we’re best friends, you know? We can’t go there. It’s just not something you can come back from.”
She’s right. I know she’s right.
Doesn’t mean I want her to be right.
I want her to be anything but right.
“You understand, don’t you? Friday was just a fluke. We were drunk.”
I was sober.
She’s a lightweight, but not that big of one.
And it wasn’t just a fluke.
At least I don’t think it was.
But maybe I’ve read this all wrong. Maybe she hasn’t been feeling anything happening between us. Maybe I’m just a moron and almost screwed everything up just like I tried to do when we were teens and I kissed her.
We’re perfect as friends.
No reason to screw that up, right?
“Right.” I clear my throat when the word comes out hoarse. “You’re right. It was just a one-off thing. A mistake. It won’t happen again.”
“Because we’d be fools to ruin this great friendship we have.”
“Exactly,” I agree.
“Besides, I know you slept with a teddy bear until you were twenty-one. That’s not something you should know about someone you’re sleeping with.”
“True.” I laugh lightly. “You know what happens if you ever tell anyone about that, right?”
“You’ll post pictures of me with my underwear on my head on the internet, from that time I was super drunk.”
I nod. “Precisely.”
“Even though that’s totally not a fair playing field. I was drunk—you knew exactly what you were doing.”
“I’ll deny it until I die.”
She grins, shaking her head at me. She looks down at the mess on the floor, then drops her head back on a groan. “Ugh. I really hate steam cleaning too.”
“I’ll worry about cleaning the rug. Tomorrow. Tonight, let’s just watch a movie, huh?”
“You still want to watch a movie?”
“Yeah. We’ve kind of been ignoring each other for the last few days. And, well, you better not tell anyone this, but I sort of missed you.”
She laughs. “I sort of missed you too.”
She peeks up, her blue eyes studying me probably harder than they ever have.
I will myself not to react. Will myself to remain cool. Neutral. To not let her know there’s a whole shitstorm of emotions whirling inside.
Sadness. Regret. Confusion.
Disappointment.
“Are we good?” she asks.
“Of course. Come on. I’m fucking starving.”
8
Caroline
We can’t.
Those two words have been haunting me for days now.
For the most part, things with Cooper have gone back to normal. Or as normal as things can be between two best friends who kissed.
It’s as if there’s a thin cloud of uncertainty just floating above us, waiting to crack open and shake everything up again.
Part of me wanted to tell Cooper to keep going, wanted to see how far we’d take it.
But the other, more logical part of my brain said to stop.
Crossing that line would be a bad idea. He’s too important to me to lose over something like sex. I don’t want to risk my friendship with him all for a good lay.
And I know it would be a good lay too.
If Cooper can fuck half as good as he can kiss…
“Earth to Caroline.” River waves her hand in front of my face. “Company meeting here.”
I give myself a shake, dragging my attention back to the task at hand.
It’s Wednesday morning and we’re discussing the big event we have in a month.
Every year our community throws the Harristown Jubilee, a big gathering of food trucks, music, and whatever else anyone wants to sell. Homemade pastries, home goods, clothes—anything goes. The event is huge, and sellers tend to make their booth fees back within the hour, not to mention the foot traffic and getting your name out there is priceless.
I should probably be paying attention since we’ll all be there running the food truck we turned into the mobile closet this year.
“Sorry,” I say. “I’m listening.”
A frown pulls at her lips. “You okay?”
“Fine, fine.” I nod, waving off her concern, reaching across