“Better,” she says.
My heart rate picks up as I run my finger up and down each of hers. I can only hope Paige can’t feel my pulse pounding in my fingertip. After several moments of tracing her hand, I realize how small it is compared to my own. How have I never noticedthat? I stretch out my fingers and hover my palm above hers, curious to see the difference, when her fingers brush ever-so-slightly against mine. We’re barely touching, but the feeling is electric, sending a burning sensation up my arm, my every nerve ending aware of her presence. In one simple moment, I don’t stop to overthink; instead, one by one I slip my fingers between hers, and she does the same until our hands are interlocked.
I continue tracing her skin, but this time only with my thumb, moving in slow circles…
Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop.
The sound of popcorn kernels bursting cuts through the moment like a knife. Paige and I instantly release our entwined hands and spring to opposite sides of our cushions.
What did I just do?
I venture a look at Paige, but she’s looking down at her hand in her lap. A hand I just held in a very non-medical way. I made her uncomfortable.Jordan, what did you do?
But then Paige’s eyes flick up to mine. And the look I see strikes me at my core. It’s a mirror image of everything I feel right now––all my longing.
Could she possibly still feel the same way I do?
In that moment, my defense system crumbles completely. I glance down at Paige’s hands then to her mouth, then I meet her eyes, where I see the same burning excitement I feel. My heart drums against my ribs. My beautiful best friend and I are looking at each other in a way that would get us kicked out of the friend zone for life. I don’t know if I can resist. And I don’t think I want to anymore.
A blinding hope surges through me, followed by two words that bring everything crashing down.Ian. California.
What am I doing?
I run my hands through my hair and glance around the room for a distraction, anything that will keep me from closing the distance between Paige and me.
I spot the bowl of chunky facemask on the table, and before I know it, I resort to teenage tactics. I scoop up a handful, tamping down my gag reflex. “You know, I think you missed a spot.”
“Jordan!” Paige jumps to her feet and raises her hands between us as if trying to calm a wild horse. “Don’t you dare.”
I jut my hand out, ready to smear her face until every distracting inch is covered, when she ducks under my arm, squealing, and swipes her hand in the bowl. When I turn around, she smacks me in the face, getting green chunks in my mouth, my ear, and my hair.
Her mouth opens to an O, her eyes wide, before she bursts out laughing.
“Oh, Devons.” I step toward her, and she backs away. She knows she’s in for it.
“Mrs. Miller. Help!” she calls over her shoulder, still laughing.
Paige bolts for the hallway, but I catch up in two quick strides. I wrap my arm around her waist, holding her in place as I run my glob of face mask into her bun and all over her face.
My mom comes in with a bowl of popcorn in hand. “You guys are too cute. It’s like you’re eighteen again. You were always getting into food fights.”
I let go of Paige’s waist and step away from her, Mom’s words bringing me back to reality.Again, what am I doing?My teenage antics had good motives, but when it came down to it, I was just flirting in disguise.
I run a hand down my face, rubbing green goop from my cheek. “Yeah, food fights. That’s what good friends do.” Before I can think too hard about it, I reach out and noogie the top of Paige’s head like she’s a six-year-old.
Paige chuckles, but the brightness in her eyes has vanished, her expression awkward and stilted. “Well, it’s getting late, and I should probably change out of this.” She tugs on her shirt, now spotted with little green globs. “I think I’m going to head home.”
“All right, sweetie.” Mom envelops Paige in a careful hug before Paige grabs her phone and keys off the kitchen table.
“See you.” Paige sends me a small wave before turning too quickly and heading out the front door.
As soon as it closes behind her, Mom whirls around and shakes her head at me. “I raised an idiot.” She sighs, fitting entire decades’ worth of disappointment in a single exhale. “I raised an idiot.”
Then Mom pivots on her heel and walks down the hallway to her room and closes the door.
Keenly aware of my idiocy, I cover my face with my hands and groan. Mom’s right, but maybe if I hadn’t been such an idiot years ago, maybe I wouldn't be one now.
Chapter 20
