When he finally pulls away, I’m lightheaded and woozy from the rush. He looks at me like he’s just caught himself doing something he promised never to do. I want him to kiss me again, but he hesitates, searching my face for something, trying to read me.
“Did that make you feel better?” His voice is low and scratchy, but there’s a hint of shakiness underneath.
My nerves prickle against my skin. How do I answer this question? Did it make me feel better? More than better. “It made me feel something,” I gasp, forcing another wobbly laugh. “Does that get me a starting spot on your roster?” I joke, humiliated that I kissed him.
My hand moves before I can think, brushing over the heat of him, the unmistakable hardness straining against his jeans. Electricity snaps up my arm. My mind goes blank for half a second. Matt inhales sharply, his eyes going wide. He grabs my wrist, gentle but firm, and I pull back, my cheeks burning.
“Sorry,” he says, soft but urgent. “I just wanted to comfort you, and I crossed the line.”
“Oh God, I’m so stupid. What was I thinking?” I spring from the couch, putting as much distance between us as possible. Standing in front of a picture of Greyson’s family reminds me that all I’ve ever wanted was to have someone love me back the way my brothers love their wives.
Suddenly, I feel Matt’s presence behind me, and allthose feelings I’ve had for him over the past year flood my synapses. It was a crush that I never planned to act on. A schoolgirl pining after her brother’s best friend. But now that I know what his lips can do, I’m incapable of stuffing my feelings back into a bottle and corking it as if I’ve never had a taste.
“Noelle, you’re not stupid. If you hadn’t kissed me, I probably would have kissed you. It felt right in the moment… but it’s not. Kissing you was wrong in every way. You’re in pain and… you were trying to ease it. I hope it did. Because you’re beautiful, intelligent, athletic, and…” he pauses, seemingly searching for the perfect words. “You’re the perfect woman for someone.”
Without facing him, I see his reflection in the glass frame. “But not for you,” I huff. “Not for Brooks, obviously. Who am I perfect for? I’m pathetic, hanging on to Brooks, and for what? Why didn’t he break up with me? He says he loves me. He took my virginity.” My chin falls to my chest as I close my eyes, wishing I hadn’t overheard Bree and Renee in the bathroom. Wishing I hadn’t embarrassed myself by kissing Matt.
His palms fold over my shoulders and his thumbs press into the base of my neck, rubbing up and down. “He’s young. That’s not an excuse for his behavior, but in my opinion, you never challenge him or talk to him about what he’s doing to you or how he makes you feel. Like at your brother’s wedding… when he was ignoring you, you didn’t talk to him. You pulled me onto the dance floor.”
“You seem to be my fall guy,” I say, sniffling. “You know, like my stunt partner does. Catching me when I fall.”
“Go to him. Talk to him and decide: either a clean breakor figure out if your relationship is worth repairing. I’ll always be here for you… as a friend.”
“I broke up with him over voicemail. But you’re right, I need to give him a piece of my mind.”
He kisses the crown of my head as his hands slowly skim down my arms, silently erasing the kiss we shared just minutes ago. He turns and begins walking up the staircase.
“Matt. Wait. Can you at least tell me if you liked the kiss? Brooks has a rule against kissing.”
His head snaps toward me. “No kissing? Not even his girlfriend?”
“He gives me pecks, but not ones with emotion or… desire.” I’m ashamed to even use that word. I’ve never felt desired.
Matt rubs the stubble on his jaw, his brows curling to meet in the middle. “Noelle, you’re a perfect ten. And that kiss may have been an eleven.”
He stares at me for a few seconds, flooding my body with warmth. “Thank you,” I whisper.
FOUR
NOELLE
Privacy.
Brooks shows up at my house over the weekend and asks my roommates for privacy. Of course, they do what he asks; they’re starry-eyed over the first-round draft pick. We had exchanged a few texts, and he badgered me into giving him one hour when he got back into town from New Orleans.
The guys leave, shooting me a hopeful look over their shoulders as they walk out.
Leaning my butt against the couch with my arms crossed, not daring to look into his eyes, I say, “So, what do you have to say for yourself?”
His body nears mine, and the ache in my chest grows stronger. He slides his palms up my arms and back down, lulling me into his embrace. He pulls me to his chest, and I can’t help but cry.
“Shh… I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I’m so sorry.” His apology seems genuine. “Noelle, I was wrong and had too much to drink. I got caught up in the moment.”
“How many moments? Bree made it sound like you’ve slept with Tabby repeatedly,” I say.
He strokes my hair, pulls my head back, and peers into my eyes. “I made mistakes. I love you. Forgive me.”
‘But why would you… after we…?”
