Swiping doesn’t mean we’ll match, I decide. And matching with him in and of itself is not technically doing anything wrong. He’s Miranda’s brother first and foremost, I remind myself, and I respect that. She’s my best friend and he's Will, and Will and I don’t have that kind of relationship.Youwere dry humping on the couch yesterday. Okay so maybe we do have that kind of relationship.
I hold my breath as my thumb moves on its own, waiting to see if we match right away.
Chapter Fourteen
Will
It's a Match!pops up on my screen.
I just matched with Kennedy Brooks on a hook up app at 12:30 am.
I don’t know if I could even articulate why I swiped right on her.Because you like her.Okay, I do know why I swiped right on her. But, I mean this is Kenny, it's not like this match is real, right? She’s objectively stunning, I know this, everyone with eyes knows this. And a not so secret part of me is very attracted to her. But she made it extremely obvious she’s not into me by agreeing to go on a date with another guy right in front of me, then asking me to take her home instead of dancing with me for even one song.
Not to mention the fact that I made a promise with Miranda in middle school that I would never date Kennedy.
Some might argue that promises made in seventh grade about who I am and am not allowed to like don’t hold up ten years later in college though.
At the time it felt like the biggest deal ever. Miranda caught Kennedy and me wrestling in the living room. Miranda had been in the shower at the time. I’m not sure how it started or why I was wrestling her, but when a boy in the grips of puberty hormones has the opportunity to wrestle a pretty girl, he doesn’t say no, no matter who it is. But when Miranda saw us, she freaked out. That night she literally cried, as in cried real tears, about how she doesn’t want to lose her best friend and she’d never forgive me if they stopped being friends because of me. It's hard to look your twin in the face and say “No, Iamgoing to try and date your best friend,” while she’s got tears streaming down her face.
Over the years, I’ve been tempted to try and hook up with Kennedy, sure, but that's just because she’s objectively beautiful and really smart, and very funny, and super fun to be around. I think any guy would’ve had a fleeting thought or ten about her if they were going through puberty and then high school with Kennedy Brooks practically living at their house.
I’ve never been truly interested in her. I mean, I care about her a lot. But not in a romantic way.Liar, I think, I definitely think about Kennedy in a romantic way.
Not just romantic or sexual either, there’s a strange yearning in my chest when I think about us doing really domestic shit together. God, I want to take her on a date so badly. I want her laughing at me being stupid. I want her smiling at me from the passenger seat of my car. I want to bring her coffee while she’s studying and kiss her hello. I want my hands on her hips as she sways with the music against me and Ireallywant her in my bed.
I keep staring at theIt’s a Match!screen, warmth threatening to spread out as I think about the implications of matching with her. I tap on her profile and start scrolling through it. Her first picture is of her and, I think, Miranda at SixtyForty. She covers the other person’s head with a giant black box so the only face in the picture is hers, which I think is really funny. Her next picture is her and her family dog. The next is her wearing a pink and white sundress with an open book in her lap. I look at this picture for a while and find myself grinning as I gaze at her photo on my screen. She’s sitting on a wooden chair outside, flowers are blooming in the background and she’s smiling at the camera like someone told her a genuinely funny joke.
She looks so kissable in that picture. I feel my dick starting to get hard thinking about kissing her again. I can almost feel her body pressed up against mine.
I debate in my head about what to say to her. I can’t match with her and then say nothing, I need to know if this is for real or not. Maybe I should open with an apology for the other night? I type it out and immediately erase it. That’s a horrible idea. I tap out a new message then erase it, type another message and I erase that one too. Why is this so hard? Kennedy is easy to talk to, I remind myself. Yeah, but if I send this message it might ruin our friendship. Forever.
Fuck it. I type out a message and hit send. The message shows read almost instantly. My stomach clenches waiting for her response.
Instead of responding to my hello in the app, my phone lights up with a call from Kennedy Brooks. Nerves erupt in my chest. I look at the phone vibrating in my hand for a few seconds before answering.
“Hello?” I answer with a whisper.
“Hi,” she says. Her voice low and breathy, sending a pulse straight to my groin. I have no idea what to say. This is crazy.
I must be silent for a little too long because she whispers, “Will? Are you there?”
“Yes, I’m here.” I feel my cheeks heating up, my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. “I’m sorry for the other night,” I blurt out, deciding that if i’m going to shoot my shot and potentially ruin the friendship, then I’m going to shoot my fucking shot. “I was being a dick because I was jealous of that guy hitting on you and asking you out right in front of me. You were there withme,” I say. I take another breath and continue, “but I was being a dick and I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that.”
We’re both silent for a few more seconds. My stomach is in my throat, my hands are sweating, and I feel itchy all over. “I’m sorry too, I think I might have over reacted a little bit.”
I let out a nervous chuckle. Tonight's game seems to be from weeks ago, not hours. I listen to Kennedy take a deep inhale and then exhale through the phone.
“What about Miranda?”
“What about Miranda?” I say, “We don’t need to tell her anything right now. Right now, there’s nothing to even tell her.”
There’s a beat of silence before she responds, “Yeah you’re right. You think you can keep a secret from her?” I can hear her breath on the other side of the line. I should say no. I should tell her that it’s not worth the risk with Miranda and their friendship. I open my mouth to tell her that this might not be a good idea after all. But instead, I say, “Yes, I can keep anything that happens between us a secret from Miranda if that’s what you want.”
I hear her breath hitch. “Okay,” she murmurs and I swear I can feel her breath on my neck. I’m rock hard right now imagining all the secrets we’re about to have.
“Will?”
“Yeah?” I whisper, heart thumping in the hollow of my throat.
