Which means I need to eliminate the threat my father poses.
And as much as I hate the idea of sinking to his level, I think the only way I can do that is with threats of my own.
18
SAGE
AUGUST
Soft lips brush behind my ear as fingers run through my hair, rousing me from sleep. “Hmm.” I hum an approving sound as I arch my neck into the touch. The fingers move down my curves, skimming the side of my bare breast, teasing me as they ignore where I want them to go. I groan in complaint, turning fully onto my back to give them easier access to my peaked nipples. My eyes are still closed as a warm wet tongue teases the sensitive bud before full lips wrap around my nipple, sucking it into their mouth.
I shift my hand into their hair to hold them in place, concerned they’ll revert to teasing me again. But instead of meeting the short strands I’m expecting, my fingers tangle with long, soft curls.
I jolt awake, my eyes flying open. I sit up in my bed,disoriented that I’m alone. I blink a few times, looking around to make sure Aspen isn’t in here.It seemed so real.But obviously she isn’t.
Despite the fact that I’ve been having a lot of dreams similar to that one, Aspen wouldn’t actually be in my bed, waking me up with soft, teasing touches.
Even if the part of me that wishes she would is getting harder to ignore everyday.
“What do you want to watch?”
Aspen is staring at me expectantly from her spot next to me on the couch. We’re waiting for the guys to update us on when they’ll be done with work to order dinner. I look between her and the TV, and I know there’s a streaming service pulled up on the screen, but I can’t focus on any of the options.
“Whatever you’d like,” I say with a shrug.
It’s been almost two months.
Two months of feeling like I’m going crazy. Because I seem to be the only one who thinks that things have changed.
No. I don’tthinkthings are different now, I know they are. At least, for me, they definitely are.
The night of the truth or dare kisses changed everything for me. I’d tried to laugh it off, thinking that maybe I was drunk and overreacting to how explosive both my kiss with Aspen and the make out session between Oakley and Parker were.
But the dreams haven’t stopped, and the daydreams that pick up where the actual dreams leave off have been consuming more and more of my waking hours.
I’m smart. I’m a fucking doctor for god’s sake. I’m not afraid to face the truth of how I’m feeling, and I’m done trying to explain away what happened.
It’s time to admit that back in college, I never took the time to properly examine my feelings surrounding kissing Aspen. I was more focused on having fun and loving that I had genuine friends for the first time in my life. Aspen was the first female friend that I’d ever had who didn’t try to compete with me over who was prettier, or smarter, or dating the most popular guy. I was thrilled to feel so accepted and supported by someone who I liked and admired so much.
But it’s been over ten years since we became friends. I’ve had other friendships, people who I would consider myself to be close with.
And no one has ever compared to Aspen.
When I examine my feelings now, I know that I was wrong before. Those kisseswerea big deal. It wasn’t us putting on a show when they were the best thing I’ve everexperienced. It wasn’t casual when I would spend my entire week looking forward to going to another party, thinking of every excuse that I possibly could to kiss Aspen again.
I insisted on calling every little thing we did in Paris a date. I was hurt when Aspen laughed it off, when she questioned why I’d want to lock our initials onto a bridge symbolizing our eternal love for each other. At the time, I wasn’t focused on what type of love I felt, platonic or otherwise. I just knew I loved her, that I always will.
I’ve thought a lot about the summer we spent apart recently. How depressed I was. How jealous I’d been that she had other friends. I hated that she was spending all her time with Anna. Why would I even remember her name all these years later if my feelings for Aspen were so innocent?
It’s been almost two months, and I can’t stop thinking about how much I want to kiss her again.
I feel guilty about it, of course. I have a boyfriend. But I’ve had boyfriends who didn’t care if I kissed Aspen in the past, and Oakley obviously didn’t mind that night.
That’s what I told myself a few weeks ago—maybe Oakley wouldn’t care and we could do it again.
But the more I’ve thought about it, and of all the ways I could suggest we do it again, another question has demanded more of my attention: Maybe I shouldn’t have a boyfriend at all if I want to kiss my best friend this badly.
I should probably break up with Oakley sooner rather than later.
