His smile is blinding against his tanned skin. “Of course. I remembered how much you liked this place.”
I try to maintain my annoyance even as a laugh slips out. The laugh feels good, feels normal. One look at Brandon tells me I’m safe now. My lungs expand with my first full breath in twenty minutes.
He offers an arm, acting every bit the fake boyfriend. “Let’s get inside, love.”
I’m besieged by a blast of sugary-scented air, followed by the tang of bitter coffee. Brandon places a hand on my lower back, guiding me to a corner table before heading off to order for us. A tiny smile climbs my cheeks, because I’m not worried in the slightest. He knows me. Knows what I like.
That thought alone fills my chest with heat.
Sure enough, he returns with an iced matcha latte, an Americano for him, and three glazed croissants. He slides beside me in the booth, close enough that we’re almost touching.
“You remembered our order?” I take the latte and one of the croissants, leaving the other two for him.
“Yup.” Brandon’s grin is lopsided, endearing, and stirring up way too many feral butterflies. His green sweater sets the emerald hue of his eyes ablaze, leaving me fumbling for words.
“Rules,” I sputter. “You texted something about rules.” I busy myself with a long pull of my drink.
He tenses for a millisecond before he nods.
“Yeah, rules. I thought about it, and I wanna make sure we’re both comfortable in this…”
It’s like he can’t even bring himself to say “relationship.”
“Situation.” He rallies with a tight smile. “I’ll play the part in front of whoever you want, but by ourselves…we gotta stay just friends.”
I hear the strain in his voice, as if the words were physically painful for him to say. Even though I wholeheartedly agree, I can’t deny that it knocks me down a peg or two.
“That’s a good idea,” I agree. “But what about… erm… physical affection? We both know I don’t shy away from PDA.”
Brandon laughs at this. “Trust me, I remember. And I’ll do my best to sell it all, but…” His expression pulls taut again. “Kissing you is a bad idea, Kate…” He traces the rim of his coffee mug, staring deeply into it. “Not unless it’s real.”
I grow roots, but the atmosphere carries on around us.
“But, do… you…want it to be real?” My question is a breath, a whisper toward a skittish animal.
Brandon drags a hand from his sharp cheekbone to the light dusting of stubble he skipped shaving this morning.
“I don’t know,” he finally says. “Do you?”
“I…don’t know, either,” I reply.
He huffs, and I balk at the frustrated sound.
“See?” I say, angling my body to face him in the booth. “This whole thing is already causing issues. Brandon, I don’t want to make everything worse!”
“Worse? Worse than what, Kate?” Brandon rakes a hand through his hair. “Worse than us not being friends, or not being able to be civil for the last six years?”
My mind spins at the sudden turn into an argument.
“Wearefriends,” I say. “And I can be civil.”
“Prove it, then,” Brandon says. “Be civil. Show me what being friends looks like. Show me that youcare.”
A flicker of pain lances his expression, and remorse twists in my stomach. Idowant Brandon in my life, but can I maintain a complacent relationship with a man that sets my very soul on fire? Or am I only going to disappoint him by breaking his heart the second time around?
“I do care,” I say weakly.
His expression softens more with each passing second. “Then that’s all I need to know. We’ll stay friends whocareabout each other, even after this is all over.”
