“Is that a smart idea?” I ask as she rushes away, her plump ass in those tight spandex shorts swaying.
“No, but I'm doing it anyway.”
Bottle four was a bad idea.
A great idea, but bad nonetheless.
“All right, then you just swoop your leg like this and slowly lower yourself to the ground.”
Somewhere between glass, umm … I lost count, and now, Brooke convinced me to get my gym bag from my truck and change into my shorts and T-shirt so we could get in some stretching.
Her face lit up at the idea, and there was no way I was going to tell her no.
So yeah, here I am, buzzed off wine and twisting my body into a position it should most definitely not be in.
But when she looks at me, letting out a laugh that I can't get enough of, it’s all worth it.
“This is supposed to be relaxing, Big D. Whatever you’re doing is actually painful to look at.”
I unfold my body with a chuckle and lay flat on the ground.
“I’m just along for the ride and clearly need to stretch more.”
“Yes, you do.”
Brooke holds her pose for a few more seconds and then takes the spot next to me.
Her hand flops between us, her fingers brushing against mine.
Silence settles between us, but she doesn't move her hand, and neither do I.
“I like being around you,” she admits, catching me off guard with her honesty.
Still, the moment I hear the words, I know exactly what she means. I brush my pinky finger against hers. “I like being around you, too.”
Another moment passes between us, and I wish I knew what she was thinking. I wish that we’d become friends long before this. I wish that we weren’t just friends.
And that’s …
“No.” She pushes up and lays on her side, head propped up by her hand. “What I mean is, I think I like it too much.”
Her blue gaze latches onto mine like a lifeline. As if my next words will either save her or drown her.
Turning so that I’m facing her directly, I brush my hand against her cheek and thread my fingers into her hair.
“Not as much as I do, Books. I can promise you that.”
My forehead drops to her.
Fuck. I want to kiss her. I want to hold her in my arms and make her mine, but I can’t.
Our confessions are fueled by alcohol, and I’m not about to let our first kiss happen because of it.
When I do get to kiss her—because I will—the only thing that will cause it is the pure need we have for each other.
Brooke clears her throat and then takes a seat on the couch, putting distance between us.
“Do you think the fact you’re not in a relationship comes from what you’ve watched your dad do to your mom?” she asks, and fuck, does it annoy me that the answer is yes.
