Fortunately, she had years of practice keeping her feelings to herself.
She tiptoed into Eric’s room, which was unnecessary. He’d probably be in bed snoring for a few more hours; she could tap-dance into his room and he wouldn’t move. But surprisingly, when she pushed his door open, he sat up, smiling.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” she said, leaning against the doorframe. She fought the urge to make some smart-ass comment about him drinking more in a night than she had in her life. But Emily knew he hated hearing her lectures on drinking, so she’d stopped giving them. To be fair, he’d sat through quite a few without protesting because he knew about her father. So he’d nod and pretend to listen while she ranted about responsibility and disappointment and pain.
But eventually she realized it wasn’t Eric’s fault they had different views on partying, and that he shouldn’t be the object of her misguided anger. Not that her stance made any difference; Eric more than made up for her sobriety. Their friendship should have ended after his first binge, but you don’t leave a guy who’s been your best friend since kindergarten just because you think he drinks too much. If anything, he needed her even more because of it. And she needed him. He’d consoled her when her father died; she was there for him when his mother passed away a year later. And he found her lost dog, Sam, when she was seven, and she’d never forget that.
“Hey,” he croaked, stretching in bed.
“I didn’t expect you to be up so early,” she said a bit nervously. She was pretty sure he wouldn’t remember the night before. Damn, she was praying he wouldn’t remember the night before.
He rubbed his head. “I know. But I can’t stop thinking about last night.”
She couldn’t swallow. “Really?” she managed to say.
“I feel like a total ass.”
The blood drained from her face. “Why?”
“Because I kissed someone last night and can’t remember who.”
Thank god. She blew out a breath and ran her fingers over her lips. “Really? That’s…that’s too bad.”
He swung his feet out of bed and onto the floor, but sat there, not quite ready to get up. “I know, right? Did you see who I was with?”
She nibbled on her lip. “No. No, I didn’t see you with anyone.”
“Damn. I was counting on you.”
“Sorry.” She looked down at her feet. “So, was it…was it good?”
He laughed. “Incredible. All night, I dreamed about the way her lips felt against mine. How her silky hair slid through my fingers. And the arch of her neck. Damn—it was just a kiss. We were in a bar, so nothing more than that happened, but it was…” He scrunched his eyebrows together, thinking. “It was incredible.”
“Incredible?” Emily’s voice sounded squeaky.
“Yeah. Because of how I felt with her. Happy. I don’t know, like whole or something.”
Emily faked a laugh. “That’s probably just your pals Jimmy Beam and Johnny Walker talking.”
“No.”
“You were probably just trying to console yourself that the cute brunette picked your brother over you.”
Eric’s smile faded and he shook his head. “No, this girl was different. All the other ones always feel, I don’t know, interchangeable? Same girl, same lines, different night. No regrets when they leave. This one felt like one to keep.”
She wrapped her arms around herself like she was cold. “All that from a kiss?”
He shrugged. “Like I said, crazy. I wonder why I didn’t bring her home?”
Emily cleared her throat and shrugged. “She must’ve run off like Cinderella. Too bad you’ll never know who she was.”
He stood up and tottered for a moment. “I’m not giving up that easy. I’m going to find her. I’ll keep going back to that bar until I do.”
Emily’s heart quickened. “Do you even know what she looks like?”
He frowned. “No. But I’ll ask around and see if anyone saw me with her.”
“What if no one did?” God, she hoped no one did.
He grinned. “Maybe I’ll just have to kiss every girl who comes along until I find those lips again; kind of like Cinderella and her shoe, but more fun. Hopefully, it’ll have the same ending.”
Like that wouldn’t be pure torture to watch. She could just confess and save him the trouble—and save herself the heartbreak watching him make out with all of Boston. But how could she explain why she’d let him kiss her? Fine. Why she’d kissed him back, too. She hadn’t been drunk. She should’ve pulled away. But it felt so good with his hand wrapped around