Hardwood - K.M. Neuhold Page 0,36
calm down. As much as I want to push Watson back against the wall and kiss the hell out of him, I need to respect that he wants space to think. God, space fucking sucks. I want zero space. I want our naked bodies to be pressed so close together there isn’t an inch of space between us. I want our mouths fused, our legs tangled, our breathing in sync.
“Do you want to go back inside?” he asks uncertainly.
“Go ahead, I need another minute to clear my head.”
He hesitates. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’m good, I just don’t want to walk back in there like this.” I gesture to the large bulge in the front of my jeans. Watson eyes my dilemma and groans. I’m almost certain he mutters something under his breath about being an idiot before he slips back inside, leaving me all alone in the quiet alley. At least there’s a working streetlight back here.
I lean against the building, the rough brick cold and harsh against the bare skin of my back, but in a strange way, that helps. My entire body is on high alert, all of my nerve endings buzzing at once, my mind racing, and my skin crawling with an overload of sensations. I dart my tongue out and drag it over my lips in an attempt to recapture the taste of Watson’s mouth against mine.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath as too many emotions well up in my chest. How could I have spent so long denying myself something that feels this right? I’ll never regret that Val and I made a beautiful daughter together, but knowing I’ve wasted so much time pretending to be something I’m not when I could’ve had this passion…lust…the chance for real love. It all gets so big inside me that a sob tears through my throat and past my lips, echoing through the otherwise quiet night. The sob turns into a laugh as my emotions go haywire, relief and sorrow, joy and frustration, lust and loss, all mixing together inside of me and then forcing their way out as I laugh and cry all at once. The tears streaking down my cheeks and the choked sound coming from my throat are a catharsis, the ghost of Watson’s lips still lingering on mine as decades of doubt and confusion are washed away in a wave of certainty and hope.
I put a hand over my mouth, but it does nothing to stifle the sound, and I’m not sure I really want it to. My hand grows damp from the tears rolling down my cheeks, the curve of my smile pressed against my palm as my body continues to shake with emotion.
“Are you okay?” I jump at the sound of Mia’s voice. “Sorry, I thought you heard me come out.”
“It’s okay.” I lower my hands and do my best to make my face look normal, the skeptical look she gives me letting me know I’ve failed. “Did Watson send you out to check on me?”
“Nope. I told them I was going to use the bathroom and then I slipped out here.”
“I’m fine,” I assure her.
She snorts a laugh and leans against the building just like I am, tilting her head back to look up at the clear night sky overhead.
“I was engaged to a man before I realized I like women,” she says conversationally. “On paper, he was perfect, and for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why I was dreading our wedding more and more the closer it got. Then my best friend kissed me at my bachelorette party, and I was like holy shit, so that’s how it’s supposed to feel.”
My brain is too fried to form a proper response, so I settle for making a noise of agreement.
“I was happy, but it was so intense that I could’ve sworn I was about to come apart at the seams,” she goes on, and I make another sort of strangled sound of agreement. “Going back in and having another drink might help. Or, I can text the guys and tell them that I’m not feeling well, and you agreed to drive me home, and I can drop you back off at your place.”
As much good as it would probably do me to go home and get my thoughts together, the idea of sitting alone in my dark, silent house when I’m feeling like a can of shaken soda doesn’t appeal.
“I think I’m done drinking, but