“Sounds like a great place to meet your future husband.”
“Ryan, you’re disgusting, you know that.”
“Okay, maybe a random hookup. You don’t have to do it in the honey bucket. He can take you back to his.”
“Girls’ weekend, remember?”
She lifts her nearly gone beer in reply.
I do believe Ryan is a wee bit beyond tipsy. She may even be full on blato. Lord help us.
Leaving them to their drunk discussion, I weave through the beer garden and out to some lesser-known porta potties where the line is much shorter than everywhere else. I’m done in a flash but take my time getting back to the girls, checking out some of the craft booths on my way. The sun is high in the sky, warming my skin as I admire the town and all it has to offer for this year's festivities.
We made the nearly three-hour drive to the valley this morning and are renting a house for the night. I’m not sure how Knox got a place at the last minute, but when you have rock star money, you can make things happen. You won’t hear me complaining.
Mt. Angel is full of Bavarian-style architecture and the perfect place to host the annual party. Thousands descend on this tiny town each year. Mia, Ryan, and I made this trip three times during college. It was our little going away party weekend before we went our separate ways each September.
I’d say we’re reliving our youth, but when two of us are having a discussion about how to raise a child together, I can’t even pretend this trip is the same as it once was.
I’ve reached the end of a row of booths and am admiring some pretty flower crowns when a large hand slips into mine.
My heartbeat echoes in my head, fear lacing the blood in my veins, but one gentle rub of his thumb over mine and the racing heart in my chest is for an entirely different reason and I let him pull me away.
The moment we’re on the other side of the tents, out of sight, my face is in his hands, and his lips are on mine. And like I always do, I kiss him back.
It’s as natural as breathing.
If only breathing him in wasn’t bad for my health.
Yet, I continue to kiss him with everything I am. “What are you doing?” I ask against his lips, regretting it instantly, because our kiss ends.
He rests his forehead against mine. “Had to be done. It was 3:33.”
He doesn’t need to explain any further. Our unwritten rule says we must kiss when the clock dictates so. My brain knows that here in broad daylight is not the time or place. Yet, when he gently presses my back against a large tree, my libido steps in, and I don’t stop him like I should.
With one hand on my hip and one still on my face, his lips find their way back to mine. This time his kiss is a gentle caress. As if he’s trying to tell me something I refuse to hear when he speaks the words that scare me half to death.
Words I refuse to accept.
Overwhelmed, I shove against his chest, and he respectfully takes a step back, stuffing his hands in his front pockets.
He’s calm as can be, while my chest heaves up and down. My disloyal body gives me away, but he doesn’t press further.
Time stops as we watch one another. His expression is one of certainty. The man knows what he wants. But I’m smarter than he is. I know how this ends. He’s one of my best friends, and I refuse to lose him. So, I meet his stare, refusing to speak first.
“So, you gonna break up with him while you’re in L.A.?”
“What?”
“You’re just prolonging his misery.”
“There’s nothing to break up. Mark and I are not exclusive.”
“Maybe not, but I know men. There’s no way he isn’t hoping to change that. Any man who’s been fortunate to be in your orbit could never find casually dating you enough. He wants you all to himself. Trust me.”
“You’re crazy.”
“End it,” he orders.
