“No. I insist,” Casey says. “What’re you having?”
Remi glances at me, and I know I should be participating in this conversation, but I can’t get my mouth to move.
“I’ll take a raspberry ale and Dakota?—”
“I know what my best friend drinks, thanks though,” Casey interrupts, and … what is that?Casey isn’t a rude person. It’s probably all the stress from work. A lack of sleep and not eating enough can make the kindest person a grouch.
“One raspberry ale and one Angry Orchard, coming right up.” Casey smiles then flounces off.
Remi looks at me, and I take a deep breath. I’m not sure what to say, so I give her an uncomfortable smile. Remi grabs her darts and lines up her next shot even though it’s my turn.
Remi and I play two more games of darts, and halfway through our third round of drinks, the awkward tension dissipates and we’re back to joking. We don’t kiss again, but Remi is still flirty. I know the bar is crowdedwith limited options to sit, but how is it that Casey andJoshsit at the one high-top table that’s in my direct line of sight?
I do my best to focus on Remi and darts, but I can’t miss how often Casey’s head falls back in laughter. What is he? A fucking stand-up comedian? I roll my eyes and take another swig of my drink.
As we finish our final game—Remi beats me three to one—she turns to me expectantly. “Want to call it a night or …?”
Out of the corner of my eye, Josh leans forward to whisper in Casey’s ear, and she smiles all wistfully. I blink and focus on Remi’s face.
“Want to get out of here?” I ask.
Remi’s apartment is small but cozy. She’s mentioned her roommate, who thankfully isn’t home. Butterflies wreak havoc in my stomach as Remi stops beside the counter that divides her living room from her kitchen.
“Do you want any water or anything?” she asks.
With a shake of my head, I look between the two bedroom doors. One is firmly shut, and the other is slightly cracked. Remi follows my gaze and asks, “Do you want to see my room?”
I tear my gaze away from the doors. Remi has this soft smile on her lips and this light twinkle in her eyes. She really is attractive.
Taking a deep, calming breath, I say, “Yes.”
Remi brightens and leads me through the cracked door. She doesn’t bother with switching on the light. I don’t have a chance to look around because the second I cross the threshold, she’s pulling me into a kiss. Her lips are soft and gentle. Remi rests her hands on my hips as she deepens the kiss. I’m stiff at first, but slowly relax into her touch. And okay. This isn’t toobad.
Remi’s hand moves up my side and under my shirt. The touch of her fingers against my bare skin sends a chill up my body.
Remi pauses. “Is this okay?”
“Yeah. Um. Yes.”
She smiles and kisses me again. This time there’s more heat. Her kiss grows hungrier, her tongue dancing with mine. I fist the material of her shirt in my hands as she presses her body into mine. She guides me by the hips until we’re spun around, and she leads me backward. The back of my knees hit her mattress, and I allow myself to fall backward onto it.
Remi follows me, never breaking the kiss. Her hands roam my body. My shirt pulled up my stomach when I fell back, and she runs her fingers along my bare skin. She tastes like raspberries. I wait for the heat of desire to burn through me. For the desperate want to be touched between my thighs to flood me. But as her lips break from mine, and she starts kissing down my jaw to my neck, all I can think is that this is wrong.
The weight of her—despite her short height and lean frame—feels suffocating on top of me. Her palms are rough and calloused from hours and hours of rock climbing, and the touch feels strange and unfamiliar. Her mouth is too warm, and I can’t do this.
“Stop,” I say and push back against Remi’s chest.
Remi immediately freezes, her forehead scrunched in worry. “Are you okay?”
“No.” I slide backward, and she takes the hint, climbing back and off me. “Yes,” I correct. “I’m okay. I just. I’m sorry. I think I need to go home.”
“Yeah. Sure. Of course.” Remi scratches her head. Herexpression pulled down into a mix of worry and sadness. “I’m sorry. Was this too fast? I thought?—”
“It’s not you!” I rush to say. “I’m sorry. You’re great. It’s just … I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
I feel like total shit. Remi is a great person. I’ve enjoyed every time we’ve hung out. I should be into this, but I’m just not.
“It’s Casey, isn’t it?” Remi asks softly, and I freeze.
