and his breath will hitch when I turn my head like we’re finally going to seal what I’ve been too scared of.
The more I think about it, the more I want to have that connection with Carter Ford. I want to know what his lips feel like against mine, and what he tastes like. I want to feel his skin and absorb his warmth and know what it’s like to be held by him skin to skin. I just want to move on instead of holding back. To try.
But it’s fear that has always beat that want away, like I don’t deserve anything more because of what I’ve done with Danny and Easton. I chased them both away, used them in different ways. I used my best friend to try getting him to love me, and I used my roommate to forget that my best friend never could return my feelings. In the process, I lost myself in a mixture of feelings that are too tangled, too interwoven, to decipher anymore. When I see Easton on the off chance he doesn’t avoid me when we’re both home, I no longer see Daniel McCray. I see dark hair and light eyes, and something trapped in his pursed lips and dark demeaner. I see a human like me, broken to some degree and unsure if the pieces will ever fit back together.
When I think of Carter, I think of security. I think of our youth. I remember old times when the only thing I ever had to be sad about was when the boys didn’t include me in whatever they were doing—how Danny would sneak into my downstairs bedroom using the side window and bring me candy to apologize. When I see Carter, I see somebody who knows what he wants and goes after it without hesitation. He’s compassionate enough to help me and caring enough to let me have my time and space to process what we’re doing.
Two men.
Two very different situations.
In a lot of ways, I care about them both. It took one night of drinking to cross a line with Easton, and part of me wonders if that’s why I haven’t let Carter and I do more than we have. If he’s like any human, he’ll want more as we mold our relationship—kissing, sex. It isn’t like I don’t want to have sex with him, every part of me screams that I do. I’m just wary that it’ll change everything in ways I can no longer control.
Suddenly, Jenna’s question becomes second best to the thought of intimacy with the man I’ve grown close to. I think about his spicy scent and his gentle hands and his warm eyes as they comfort me with a single look. I know that I would enjoy sleeping with him if my mind would take a step back from overanalyzing it.
Just as soon as the thought of us together crosses my mind, heat blossoms between my thighs. I squirm in my seat as my phone chirps that I’m nearing my destination. Gripping the steering wheel, I twist my palms and wonder what Easton would say. Then again, he already thinks I’m sleeping with Carter.
Why should I care?
Eye twitching, I turn into the driveway of a decent-size white and brick house. Parking my car in front of the closed garage like he told me, I examine the black shutters and wooden door leading inside. A cement pathway leads from the driveway to the entrance, and green flowering bushes line the front of the house. From here, I can see the outline of a fenced-in backyard and know it’s perfect for his dog, probably a reason why he chose it in the first place. It’s quaint and exactly what I’d imagine for Carter.
My phone buzzes after I unplug it from the charger, a text from my best friend displayed on the screen.
Jenna: Stay the night ;)
Blinking, I lick my lips and power off my phone so there’s no distractions. I know she has things handled at home. Ainsley will be fine, Easton’s been staying out later and later, and all that matters in this moment is that I let myself admit what I want.
My face heats.
I want Carter Ford.
Getting out of my car, I wipe off my clammy palms on the front of my blue jeans and take a deep breath before knocking on his front door. A dog barking in the background has me stepping back as Carter scolds him, opening the door.