We stop at another corner, waiting for the light to change. She stands closer to me than strictly necessary, our shoulders touching. The scent of her perfume mingles with the night air. It’s intoxicating.
I’m in serious trouble.
She’s Parker’s sister. She’s fresh out of a relationship. She’s absolutely, definitely off-limits.
But goodness, I want to kiss her.
The thought blindsides me with its intensity. I imagine leaning down, tipping her chin up with my finger, and pressing my lips against hers.
Would she taste like the wine we shared at dinner? Would she pull away, shocked and offended? Or would she kiss me back?
“Hey,” she says, waving a hand in front of my face. “Light’s changed.”
“Right.” My voice is embarrassingly hoarse as I snap out of my thoughts. “Sorry. Just … thinking.”
“About what?” she asks as we cross the street.
About kissing you.
“About how different this is,” I say instead, which isn’t entirely a lie. “Usually, when I walk someone home after dinner, there’s this awkward vibe. Like we’re both mentally cataloging everything that went wrong.”
“And now?”
“Now it’s … easy,” I admit. “Talking to you feels natural.”
Our hands brush as we walk, a fleeting touch of skin on skin. Neither of us pulls away immediately, creating a moment of connection that sends my pulse racing. Then, simultaneously, we both adjust our pace, breaking the contact but not the tension.
“I know what you mean,” she says, her voice quieter now. “It’s nice, having someone to talk to who isn’t … complicated.”
The irony of that statement isn’t lost on me. This—whatever this is—is nothingbutcomplicated.
We turn onto Parker’s street, and I can see his building at the end of the block. My stomach sinks with the realization that our walk is almost over.
I slow my pace slightly, trying to stretch out these last few moments.
“There it is,” she says, pointing to the imposing high-rise ahead. “Home sweet temporary home.”
We approach the entrance, and the doorman inside watches us through the glass. I wonder what he sees—a couple saying good night, or two strangers awkwardly parting ways?
We stop just outside the doorway, and for the first time all evening, silence falls between us. I rock slightly on my heels, hands shoved deep in my pockets to keep from reaching for her.
“Thanks for walking me home,” she says, looking up at me with those impossibly blue eyes. “And for dinner. And … for listening. I had a surprisingly good time tonight.”
“Surprisingly?” I tease, trying to keep my tone light despite the heaviness in my chest.
“You know what I mean,” she says, giving me a gentle shove. “I wasn’t expecting to enjoy myself so much. Not with everything…”
“I know,” I say softly. “I had a good time too.”
We stand, staring at each other in the glow of the building’s entrance lights. She’s still wearing my coat, and I should ask for it back, but I don’t. I want her to keep it, to have something of mine.
I lean forward slightly, drawn to her like a magnet. Her eyes flick to my lips, then back up to my eyes, and for one wild, heart-stopping moment, I think maybe—just maybe—she wants this too.
But then Parker’s voice echoes in my head again.Stay away from my sister.
I step back, the moment broken. “Well,” I say, hating how formal my voice suddenly sounds. “Good night, Brittany.”
“Good night, Weston,” she says, something unreadable in her expression. She starts to take off my coat, but I shake my head.
