isn’t going to hurt me.”
“Still, if you need me to rescue you, call me.” She scooted closer to me on the couch, and when our knees brushed, my gaze flew to her legs.
She was wearing shorts, something she rarely did and something I had more than fully noticed when she’d showed up at my house. Her legs were so long, and her skin looked so soft. She was gorgeous. I swear to God, some days, it drove me crazy. I thought about touching her all the time, running my fingers up the sides of her legs, maybe even the inside of her thighs. I often wondered, if I did, would she shudder? I imagined she would. Of course, that might have been because I wanted her so badly.
“You’re okay, though, right?” Her voice was crammed with concern as she placed her hand on my leg, drawing my attention away from her legs. “You know what he said wasn’t true, right?”
I blinked the desire away, knowing she’d probably run the hell out of here if she knew my thoughts. Well, either that or kick my ass.
“Yeah … I’m used to his shit by now.” My miserable tone suggested otherwise. I wasn’t even sure my miserableness was because of my dad or from how much I wanted her without having the nerve to make a move.
She poked me in the side, and I flinched but laughed.
“Don’t let him turn you into a wallower. That’s not you. Don’t let him take away who you are.”
“It might be better if he did. I mean, everything he said was kind of true. I don’t really have any direction or goals or anything.” I was being overdramatic. At the same time, I kind of liked hearing her defend me. It made me feel all good inside. I wanted to hug her … kiss her … run my finger up the inside of her thigh …
See? There I went again.
“You have direction and goals,” she said. “They’re just different from his.”
I forced myself to focus on the conversation, carrying her gaze. “And yours.”
“Yeah, so? My goals are boring. You’re so much more fun than I am. Sometimes, I wish I could be more like you.” She twisted a strand of her hair around her finger and chewed on her bottom lip, drawing all of my attention to her mouth.
Unable to control myself any longer, I started to lean in to do just that.
Her eyes snapped wide. “What are you doing?” she sputtered, slanting back.
Holy fucking shit, this is getting out of hand.
I tried to settle the hell down. Moving away damn near killed me. It went against everything I wanted.
That’s when I realized how much I liked her. And not just because she was hot. I liked her for everything she was, for everything she did for me, for everything that we were. Some of my favorite life moments were experienced with her.
She made me laugh. She told me things I tried to convince myself I didn’t need to hear. She got me. And I got her. I got her so much that I knew I could never act on my feelings because it would break her rule to never date anyone, at least until she finished college. She created the rule over the belief that it would help her not end up like her mom. I knew she never would. But when Willow made up her mind about something, she threw all of her effort into it, which meant there was a slim to none chance that me acting on my feelings would end well.
And so began the last three years of my self-torment, of wanting something I couldn’t have. Something that was always right in front of me, reminding me how perfect life could be.
And, for a while, my self-torment was working.
Until the day I broke.
We were up in my room on my bed during a party, a little drunk and alone . I kept picturing myself laying her back, kissing her while exploring her body. I knew I couldn’t act on my desires. At least, I did until she told me I was making her nervous, staring at my mouth like she wanted to taste me as badly as I wanted to taste her.
Hope rose inside me, and I went in for the kiss.
For a microsecond, everything was perfect as our lips connected for the first
“Still, if you need me to rescue you, call me.” She scooted closer to me on the couch, and when our knees brushed, my gaze flew to her legs.
She was wearing shorts, something she rarely did and something I had more than fully noticed when she’d showed up at my house. Her legs were so long, and her skin looked so soft. She was gorgeous. I swear to God, some days, it drove me crazy. I thought about touching her all the time, running my fingers up the sides of her legs, maybe even the inside of her thighs. I often wondered, if I did, would she shudder? I imagined she would. Of course, that might have been because I wanted her so badly.
“You’re okay, though, right?” Her voice was crammed with concern as she placed her hand on my leg, drawing my attention away from her legs. “You know what he said wasn’t true, right?”
I blinked the desire away, knowing she’d probably run the hell out of here if she knew my thoughts. Well, either that or kick my ass.
“Yeah … I’m used to his shit by now.” My miserable tone suggested otherwise. I wasn’t even sure my miserableness was because of my dad or from how much I wanted her without having the nerve to make a move.
She poked me in the side, and I flinched but laughed.
“Don’t let him turn you into a wallower. That’s not you. Don’t let him take away who you are.”
“It might be better if he did. I mean, everything he said was kind of true. I don’t really have any direction or goals or anything.” I was being overdramatic. At the same time, I kind of liked hearing her defend me. It made me feel all good inside. I wanted to hug her … kiss her … run my finger up the inside of her thigh …
See? There I went again.
“You have direction and goals,” she said. “They’re just different from his.”
I forced myself to focus on the conversation, carrying her gaze. “And yours.”
“Yeah, so? My goals are boring. You’re so much more fun than I am. Sometimes, I wish I could be more like you.” She twisted a strand of her hair around her finger and chewed on her bottom lip, drawing all of my attention to her mouth.
Unable to control myself any longer, I started to lean in to do just that.
Her eyes snapped wide. “What are you doing?” she sputtered, slanting back.
Holy fucking shit, this is getting out of hand.
I tried to settle the hell down. Moving away damn near killed me. It went against everything I wanted.
That’s when I realized how much I liked her. And not just because she was hot. I liked her for everything she was, for everything she did for me, for everything that we were. Some of my favorite life moments were experienced with her.
She made me laugh. She told me things I tried to convince myself I didn’t need to hear. She got me. And I got her. I got her so much that I knew I could never act on my feelings because it would break her rule to never date anyone, at least until she finished college. She created the rule over the belief that it would help her not end up like her mom. I knew she never would. But when Willow made up her mind about something, she threw all of her effort into it, which meant there was a slim to none chance that me acting on my feelings would end well.
And so began the last three years of my self-torment, of wanting something I couldn’t have. Something that was always right in front of me, reminding me how perfect life could be.
And, for a while, my self-torment was working.
Until the day I broke.
We were up in my room on my bed during a party, a little drunk and alone . I kept picturing myself laying her back, kissing her while exploring her body. I knew I couldn’t act on my desires. At least, I did until she told me I was making her nervous, staring at my mouth like she wanted to taste me as badly as I wanted to taste her.
Hope rose inside me, and I went in for the kiss.
For a microsecond, everything was perfect as our lips connected for the first
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