Page 9 of Your Kiss Is On My List

“Maybe it’s what you need. If I’m your girl you can forget about girls chasing after you and concentrate on hockey. And I can forget about guys chasing after me and concentrate on school.” She pauses, looking a question at me. “Deal?”

Watching her, I see her logic, but I see the main flaw. She’ll be far more of a distraction than a few zealous hockey fangirls. But maybe she’s serious about wanting me to run interference for her.

“If you think it’ll help you,” I say. She grins and nods. “then it’s a deal.”

“Poor Summer,” she says, looking towards the exit where she left. “I see you’re still leaving a trail of broken hearts in your wake.” Dani’s words soft. She puts a hand over mine like it’s a big problem. I guffaw.

“Not hardly.” I meet her eyes and it occurs to me she’s talking about herself, because I left her behind and avoided seeing her for the past three years. And even though we were no more than friends, it was still a dick thing to do.

“I’m sorry, Dani, that I didn’t keep in touch—”

“Too late for an apology now, bucko. All you can do is make up for lost time. In fact, it warms my heart knowing you owe me, that I own your soul.” She grins and I laugh, giving her shoulder a small shove like she’s one of the guys. Except the instant my hand touches her I’m reminded how different than one of the guys she is, how far from the friend zone I want her to be. Imagine if I told her I wasn’t interested in Summer because I was still comparing all girls to her. And all the girls fall short compared to Dani.

Not because of the one small kiss we shared, but because of everything she is, everything we’ve shared, because of the way she understands me and gives so much of herself. Fuck. Because she was the one who saved me from myself after that skating incident. She got me back on the ice and my heart aches knowing how ungrateful I’ve been leaving her behind without a backward glance. I clear my throat.

“Right. Why did you transfer from NYU? You were doing great, according to Lou—”

“No, that’s another story. I think I need another glass of coke for that one.” She jokes, but her words send worry skittering along my spine.

“Who is he? I’ll take care—” She chuckles and shakes her head.

“No. It’s not that simple, BB.” I roll my eyes. BB was her name for me—Bad Boy—when we were all still in grade school. When I used to do things like chase her and Lou around with frogs and snakes to gross them out or scare them. Worked like a charm.

“You can’t call me that anymore. You can’t resurrect a name from the days of riding bikes and teacher’s pets.” She was always the teacher’s pet according to Lou.

“What should I call you? It can’t be the same thing everyone else calls you because you’re too special to me.”

“You mean you’re special to me?” I say automatically before my head catches up to my mouth. Fuck. The slow serious curve of that killer mouth of hers undoes whatever remaining control I have, preventing me from turning away. She’s like some kind of new age Medusa, one that turns only my dick to stone but the rest of me to mush.

“Yes.” Her voice is breathy.

“Just call me Trey and I’ll call you scabby knees—” She hits me on the arm like a girl, except it turns into a caress as her mock outrage turns into laughter.

“You can call me princess and I’ll call you frog,” she says.

“Does that mean if you kiss me again I turn into your prince?” Boom. My words wipe her smile away and I destroy the banter, leaving the smoky whiff of charred ruins of what could have been a nice afternoon, what could have been mended fences. Her face freezes in place so long I’m worried it’s going to crack.

“Don’t tease me about that, Trey.”

“Sure, I get it—I was joking. Truly.” She examines me like she’s not so sure and I call on my nonexistent acting skills to bluff her. Note to self—don’t ever try to make a living in Vegas or Hollywood.

“Maybe it’s not so funny,” she says and I don’t know what her point is except that I know I’ve blown it—whatever it is—between us. Was I trying to flirt? Did my subconscious purposely sabotage my attempt at friendship?

“Look, I’m sorry. That kiss was… so long ago.” Though the one she just laid on me a minute ago will live in my head as long as I’m alive. “It doesn’t mean anything anymore. We’re two adults—”

“So we should act like adults and forget about the kiss—because clearly neither of us has. Or does it mean we should act like adults and get on with flirting?”

My head spins to hers and I could swear she’s inviting me to flirt with her, but that can’t be. She’s too precious, too important to fool with. The last thing I want to do is destroy all hope of keeping her in my life. She’s Lou’s best friend, for fuck’s sake.

“It means we’re two adults and we should be able to put a mistake we made when we were kids behind us. Because you’re too important to me, Dani, and I don’t want to have to worry so much about saying or doing the wrong thing that I need to avoid you for another three years.”

“There—you admit it. You were avoiding me.” The hurt in her voice is unmistakable and I nod. Then I throw an arm around her shoulder because she needs it and I’ll have to stand it, to withstand the onslaught of need that strikes me, shaking me to the core as I hug her to me and she rests her head on my chest.

“I missed you, Trey. I think I’ll call you baby and you call me doll and we’ll know what it means and no one else will have a clue.” She lifts her head from my chest where my heart pounds away on overdrive, and she looks up at me like she can see into my soul, past all the shit to the good stuff. “It means we’re immune from all the flirting and crazy boy-girl feelings that complicate and get in the way of what’s really important between true friends.” She looks at me with those serious green eyes, the ones that can fool a person into thinking there’s mischievous intent when all she’s hiding is the heart of an angel, the spine of a mountain range, and the generosity of an endless waterfall.

“You got it, doll,” I say because I’ll give her anything she wants, even my best behavior when I want so much to be so bad. She grins and, god help me, I feel the pull.

“You’re perfect, baby.” She winks and I laugh and even though more misery pours from it than mirth, I keep my eyes on hers, drinking them in, holding her in my arms, letting her warmth and spirit seep through.