I should be worried, but all I can think is there she is. The firecracker girl. The prima ballerina who trains her ass off and drinks cheap beer like it’s fine wine.
I tell her the truth, eyes on the road. “It’s not just occurring to me now.”
She rolls her eyes, shimmying her shoulders up taller, as if straightening in her seat might make her feel less vulnerable.
“It’s true.” I wish the roads were better so I could give her my full attention and look her in the eye. Wipe that petulant expression off her face and kiss her again. Make her believe me. Because I know I haven’t been imagining these moments between us. The ones where the air grows so heavy that it feels like more than I can bear.
“I don’t believe you,” she repeats, but this time her voice is a little hoarse.
“You kissed me back,” I say right as I’m hit with the sickening thought that maybe I’m out to lunch. Maybe this is all very one-sided and I’ve gone horribly offtrack. After all, my experience with women in any capacity beyond sex is nonexistent.
Except for Sunny. She’s the girl I tell everything. The girl who was always there on my worst days and darkest nights. Not because I asked her to be, but just because that’s what we are to each other.
It doesn’t matter how many years have passed. We’ll always be that to each other.
“No shit.” She’s crossed her arms over her ribs again, and my eyes trail over the way it props her breasts up. The tingle in my fingers is now an itch to explore every inch of her body, to show her all the ways I want her.
Fuck, I want her.
Sloane is soothing. She’s the eye of the storm. True North. Somehow our compasses always bring us back to each other.
When we stop at the first red light in Blisswater Springs, I turn in my seat and ask, “What’s that supposed to mean, Sloane? I was there. Felt your thighs go all tight on me when I tugged your hair. Heard you moan when I kissed you. Are we going to sit here and keep pretending that things don’t feel different between us now?”
“They’ve always felt this way for me!” she explodes, arms flung wide, eyes shining with emotion. “And you’ve never noticed. But now you do? What am I supposed to do? Jump for joy and say thank you for blessing me with your interest?”
I pale, hands going clammy on the wheel. I respond in a stream of consciousness, trying to explain myself in the wake of what she’s just said. “I mean . . . we all knew you had a childhood crush. I was a teenager. But you were just a kid. And then you outgrew it. You had boyfriends and ballet. I had hockey and endless training. We became friends in the city. You got engaged.”
Her pale pink lips part like she’s about to say something, but quickly press back together. She turns back to the windshield, eyes forced ahead so hard it almost looks painful. The seconds stretch out and I’m certain she’s not going to respond to me. And shit, that’s what I deserve for everything I just dumped on her.
But right as the light turns green, her sad voice hits me like a punch to the fucking gut.
“I never outgrew it, Jas.”
When I kissed her, I counted to four in my head. I told myself I’d give it four seconds, but she took more.
It was a moment of insanity.
Or maybe every moment where I tried to deny what I was feeling for her have been moments of insanity all strung together. Lights of all one color.
Does regret have a color?
“Check again,” Sloane says to the woman behind the front desk at the small resort-style hotel. “There has to be something.”
Listening to Sloane explain that we need separate rooms feels like her own moment of insanity. But I’ll let her have it.
Because I know Sloane. I know how she processes things.
What I didn’t know is her childhood crush never left. I should feel bad for never noticing. I should feel like an idiot. But I feel . . . relieved.
I see a chance. A glimmer of hope.
“Something with two beds at least? How about a rollaway cot? I’m almost child sized.” She gestures down at herself.
I stifle a chuckle and look out the window toward the parking lot, where snow is still falling heavily.
“We can have have a cot sent up, of course.” The woman at the desk smiles patiently, eyes bouncing between us curiously like she can’t quite figure out what’s going on.
“That will be fine,” Sloane forces out, a practiced smile on her face. Cool mask perfectly in place. Her bun is pulled up tight the way she likes it when she’s ready for a performance—or for battle.
That’s what she resorted to doing in the truck. She tugged down the visor and used the mirror to obsessively pull her hair back. It was never flat enough, or smooth enough, so she’d pull it out and do it all over again.
She did it five times. I know because I counted. There wasn’t much else to do once she settled into ignoring me. I was also struggling to peel my eyes away from her after her crush revelation.
This woman has been my friend for eighteen years.
How did I miss it?
Either she got good at hiding it or I wasn’t looking. It was probably a combination of both.
Defiant stray blonde hairs catch the light in the dated hotel lobby. I almost want to point them out just to rile her up.
Because when she’s riled, the truth comes out.
“Thank you for your help,” she tells the woman as she turns to me, holding up to two key cards. The smile on her face has moved from forced to kind of insane looking. “Let’s go,” she singsongs a little too loudly before storming away, clearly expecting I’ll follow.
Within a few strides, I’m standing right beside her, staring at the elevator door.
“Fourth floor,” she says rigidly.
“Okay.”
“One king-size bed.”
“That’s fine.”
“No. I’ll sleep on a rollaway cot. They’re going to bring it up.”
“Sunny, that’s really not necessary. It’s just a bed. We slept together the other night.”
She hikes her bag higher on her shoulder and tips her nose up. “Yes, well, that was before I embarrassed myself and decided I was pissed at you. So I’ll take the cot.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. I’m glad she’s not being the doormat she was with that dickhead, but I’m also not accustomed to her being angry with me.
When the elevator dings, I gesture her ahead of me, letting my eyes drop to her ass as she walks inside. Only a day ago, I watched her walk into the lake in her underwear, but it feels like it’s been weeks.
I guess it’s been years.
“You heard from your dad?” I ask as the doors slide shut.
“No. I mean, well, yes. He’s messaged. And called. And emailed. But frankly, I’m not a fan of his tone, so I’m ignoring him too. At least until he asks me how I am or if I’m safe rather than just demanding I come back.”
“Fair.”
I hear her teeth clank together over the soft elevator music. “Come to think of it, I’m kind of done with men in general right now.” One hand waves up and down in my direction. “The whole lot of you.”
“Also fair.”
She spins toward me now. “Why do you have to be so fucking agreeable, Jasper?”