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“Stop embarrassing me.”
He lays me down, then hops over me and slips under the covers. Sliding his arm under my neck, he rolls my head onto his chest. He seems comfortable right now, but are we going to talk about what we just did, or does he just assume nothing will change?
I wrap my arm around his waist and put my knee over his thigh. We’ve held each other like this dozens of times in the past sixteen years, never without clothes, but this is new territory.
We used to lie on a blanket on a summer day with our bodies in this same position and point out shapes in the clouds. Lion. Guitar. Heart.
Or while watching movies, I would cuddle up into his arms.
Camping with friends, we always shared a tent, and I always ended up in his sleeping bag in the exact same place—in Dane’s arms.
The difference is we’re naked, and we just had sex. For me, it was sensual and emotional as his brown eyes bore into me.
Waiting for him to speak isn’t me, and I stay quiet for as long as I can, but I don’t do well in silence. “I think everything just changed.”
His fingertips trail up and down my arm. “I know.”
Water fills my eyes, and a tear falls onto his chest.
What does that mean? Does he want our relationship to change? Does he want to keep doing more of what we just did? I do. But it takes two of us to want it. Dane’s my opposite. He mulls things over. Never overreacts. He’s the definition of calm, cool, and collected. He’s not going to say anything he doesn’t mean.
It makes me question his words during sex.
Never. Forgetting you is statistically impossible.
I want you to see how much I… need you.
You. On your knees. For me. Hands down, my number one fantasy.
At the time, his words rang true, but maybe that’s just how Dane talks during sex—the perfect mixture of dirty and sweet, making me feel special and coveted like I hold the key to his castle.
And damn, his castle is built and is well lubricated.
We tell each other I love you almost every day but in this moment, it feels wrong like it would signify something more than we are… best friends.
When I’m beginning to doze off, he mumbles under his breath, “Everything will be fine. It’ll be fine.”
His words caress my mind just as his fingers do the same to my arms. One dream has come true—making love with Dane. The physical and mental aspects of the night have exhausted me, and I fall asleep comforted by his breathing pattern—slow, steady, and strong.
When I wake up to an empty bed, I’m shocked. I don’t consider Dane a guy who would dine and dash, so I immediately grab my phone to see if I have a good morning text from him. I do not.
I jump up to check the shower and the rest for the suite but no Dane.
Throwing on running shorts and putting on a bra under his shirt, I grab my key card and phone. I tap out a message on my phone with no response. His dad has probably called him to go to the sauna again or on a run. Mr. Greathouse expects Dane to train every day so they may be running.
There’s a Starbucks on the grounds, so I’ll buy him a Frappuccino. It’s not an Icee, but there’s ice crushed up in it. It’s the thought that counts, right?
While standing in line at Starbucks, I notice the restaurant is open for breakfast and buy Dane a drink. I walk into the restaurant, scanning the room for Dane or his parents. A laugh catches my attention—Dane’s laugh. My head spins to the far corner table.
Dane and Daisy.
My knees feel wobbly, and my mouth fills with water, sick to my stomach. I have no claim to Dane, but it doesn’t stop my stomach from feeling like it did on that elevator last night.
But who’s Daisy to him? No one. No matter what happened last night, I’m Dane’s best friend, so I buckle up and walk over to the table. I’ve been through worse than this. As I close the distance to their table, I hear their conversation.
“Sure, I’d love to show you around,” he says with a million-watt smile.
She grins, pushing on his arm. “Thank you. I can’t wait. I’m sure you know all the little dives and bars.”
