Hooking up with my only in-person friend would mean I had no friends again. I’d have a friend with benefits. Or even stranger, a boyfriend.
And he probably didn’t even think of me like that. He was reeling from his breakup with Janice. For all I knew, he’d call one of the girls from the bar tomorrow for that ‘rain check.’
I squirmed, pushing my toes against his leg.
“You cold?” He tossed a throw blanket over my legs, then tucked me in.
“You’re so nice.” I frowned, straightening out the hem. Either one of those bar girls could swoop in and take advantage of him. His loneliness. His kindness. He’d be desperate, afraid the next girl would leave him. Or maybe I was projecting after too many psych evaluations from my parents. I might as well ask him.
I nudged him with my feet. “You’re not looking for a new relationship, right?”
“I…what?” He cracked a semi-hysterical smile.
“You said you wanted to preserve your friendship with Janice by not jumping into anything right away. Does that include dates?” I scrambled to fit my glasses over my nose so I could read his expressions better.
“I guess. I don’t know, yet.” He hugged a pillow and trained his gaze on the TV, his brow furrowed. Classic avoidance.
He’d know if he worked through it. Processed. For now, I’d be here for him. Maybe my staring was too intense, but I found it hard to focus on the show when my friend was in distress. “Is it because of Janice?”
He chuckled and vaguely gestured to me. “I’m sure it seems kinda stupid that I’m that concerned about staying friends with my ex.”
It was. But his feelings mattered, as did his relationships.
“Are you hoping to get back together?” I asked.
“No.” He smiled ruefully and stroked the pillow. “I don’t think so.”
I scooted toward him. “I’m sorry if this is a painful topic. Maybe it’s none of my business, even though we did just kiss.”
He gave me a bizarre look, like I’d just told a weird joke or stated the obvious. But which was it?
“Not that I think that means you’d want to date me,” I hurried to say. “Plenty of people kiss for the fun of it. Or fondness. And we are friends.”
Great. I was digging the hole deeper.
I sighed and rubbed my temples. “What I mean to say is, I care about you and your happiness.”
“Thanks?” He tilted his head.
Again, was this obvious? I reached for his hand, then drew back before I could touch him. “I’m sorry if this is weird. I’m not good at relationships. Or friendships. I have a hard time recognizing what people want or need or how I’m impacting their feelings.”
“I kinda got that.” He glanced pointedly at my hand, then threaded our fingers together. “Does this feel okay?”
“Yes.” More than okay. Although I might have a heart attack in five minutes. “I’m just not sure you’re ready to date again so soon after a breakup. I don’t want to see you get hurt, and I certainly don’t want to be someone who hurts you.”
“I won’t get hurt by some kisses and hand-holding. Not unless you bite me,” he teased.
I rolled my eyes and smiled. “Does that mean we can keep kissing?”
“Do you want to?” He raised his brows.
Was that so surprising?
“I don’t know,” I admitted, pushing my glasses up and studying our linked hands. For once, he couldn’t gesture with both of his hands when he talked.
Was it worth it?
“I think so,” I said. “But I don’t want to take advantage of your situation. Do you want to kiss again?”
