He casually stretches one arm along the back of the couch, his fingertips barely touching my shoulder.
I lean into him without thinking. Like instinct.
He glances at me with an expression I can only describe asloving.
It makes my stomach flip, my blood rush, and my heart skip a beat.
“Your turn to pick the movie,” he says calmly.
I shake my head. “I like when you do it,” I say.
Cam smirks. “I know,” he answers, his fingers teasing my shoulder. “Guess you can give up control sometimes.” He steals the remote from my hand, queuing up A League of Their Own.
I finish my pizza, shoving the plate across the coffee table, and draw my legs up, leaning against my best friend.
Best friend.
The words don’t feel right. Not anymore. Yes, he is my best friend… but he’s not.
Somewhere deep inside, I know he’s so much more than that.
But I also know he can’t be more than that.
I look up at him, my heart in my throat as the truth hits me in the face like a brick.
I think…
I think I’m falling in love with him. Or maybe I’ve always been in love with him?
The air around me thins, and it’s like time stops.
Cam catches my stare, raising an eyebrow at me.
“What? Do I have sauce on my face?” he asks.
I shake my head, the words stuck in my throat.
Oh, fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Just appreciating the view,” I say weakly. I’m surprised I can speak coherently at all.
He turns off the television, grabs my chin, and kisses me. It’s not frantic or messy, or playful like he has been.
It’s slow, passionate. Loving.
He tastes like tomatoes and pineapple, and broken vows.
Like heaven and hell and dreams I don’t want to stop chasing.
So for the moment, I stop running and let myself catch him.
I hold him in my grasp and deepen our kiss, savoring this moment. Savoring him, just like this.
When he breaks away, he smiles.
“Come on,” he says, getting up, holding his hand out to me. “I know you’re fucking beat, too.”
