We stumble out of the cab giggling. We both drank way too much to drive the truck back. We made our way up the wooden stairs to the B&B. Noah fumbles for his key as I lean against the door frame. “I can’t find my key, so I’ll come into your room and use the adjoining door.”
He shakes his head with a small laugh.
I hiccup. “I need some water.”
“Don’t worry, I’m on it, he declares as we push through the door and make our way into the room. There’s a small doublebed, a dresser, and a cute window that looks out onto the North Carolina hills.
He takes two water bottles from the mini fridge inside the dresser and hands me one. I waste no time taking the cap off and gulping down the entire bottle.
I gasp. “I needed that.”
“What time do you want to head out to the vineyard tomorrow? Noah asks as he tosses his empty bottle into the trash can.
This weekend’s life list task is making our own wine, and we found a vineyard a couple of hours from here.
“Maybe nine. I think I may have a fuzzy head tomorrow,” I slur as he takes my empty bottle and tosses it in the trash with his.
We stand chest to chest, and the unspoken words that have been swirling in the air all night blanket us. Every year, we grow closer, our friendship blooms, and if I am being really honest, deeper feelings are growing too. But I have done my best to bury them because the guilt of wanting him eats me up. How wrong of me to want the best friend of the man I loved and lost. What we want and what we can have are two different things. I love being with Noah, but it is getting harder with every passing year to just be his friend.
My eyes trail up his torso, where his white tee clings to every inch of his muscles, and I could so easily reach out and smooth my hand over his chest and press myself into him. My mouth dries, and I choke on air when he says my name.
“Tor, are you with me?” he asks in a teasing tone.
“What? Oh yeah, I was just thinking.”
“What were you thinking about?” His words are low and gravelly.
How I’d like you to kiss me and take me to bed.
“I, umm…should go to my room.” I gesture with my thumb over my shoulder.
“Is that what you want to do?”
No.
He lifts my chin with his index finger and thumb, forcing me to look at him. His eyes penetrate mine, and that gesture makes me do something really dumb. I brush my hand along the band of his jeans and up his back, his muscles tensing under my fingertips.
He inhales sharply, “Tori.”
“Yes,” I answer, and my body shivers in anticipation.
“Did you mean what you said earlier? About dating someone?”
I shrug. “Maybe, but it won’t work.”
“Why?”
I let out a sigh. “Because when they get to know me, I’ll have to tell them my story, and they’ll look at me with pity.”
“Is that how you think people look at you?”
I search his eyes, trying to understand where this might be heading, but all I know, wherever it is, I want to go there.
“Isn’t it?” I ask.
He cups my jaw, and my eyes flutter shut.
“There are many things I think when I look at you, and trust me. Pity isn’t one of them.”
