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Did Kylie come back here deliberately?
No. That’s not her style. But those very carefully drawn lines we’ve had between us for years are officially gone. Six months ago, she’d never have come to my room knowing I was showering. She would’ve waited until I walked into the kitchen to ask about the plates.
And I have no idea what that means for our friendship going forward.
The very strict boundaries we silently built have evaporated entirely.
The way she looked at me was way more intense than the way she used to look at me. There was heat in her eyes, no doubt about it.
This is so fucking complicated now. I have no idea where we go from here. Does she actually want something more with me, or is she exploring her newfound freedom? My heart won’t be able to take it if she wants to use me as a stepping stone to a new life.
Even as I think that, I know she’d never do that to me. We’re too close of friends for her to do something that callous.
But does she want to use someone else like that instead?
That might hurt more than being her fucking rebound.
I shove all those thoughts to the back of my head as I yank on a T-shirt. There’s not a goddamn thing I can do about any of that right now.
London’s giggles lead me into the kitchen. I love that sound more than I can express. She’s my whole world, and seeing her and Kylie being silly in my kitchen fills me with longing so intense it makes my chest ache.
“Are you ready to eat?” Kylie asks as she herds Luddy to the table.
“More than. Although I feel bad that you bought dinner when I was the one who wanted to celebrate.”
“It was my idea to get takeout. What did you do today?” Kylie waves me off, swiftly engaging London in conversation to stop any further protest.
“Daddy got bit on the butt by one of the horses.” London laughs.
“He did? What a cheeky horse,” Kylie jokes.
“He even got it on video too. Are you going to post that one?”
“I haven’t decided yet. I say a not-very-nice word when he did it,” I say.
“He said the f-word,” London whispers.
Kylie widens her eyes at her. “Naughty Daddy.”
I choke on my bite. Jesus Christ. Where the fuck did that come from? A flush spreads across Kylie’s cheeks when she realizes what she said.
Thankfully, London doesn’t understand the innuendo and keeps talking. “It was super funny. I think everyone would laugh if they saw it.”
“You’re right about that,” I say, trying to get my mind to let go of Kylie calling me Daddy. I can’t deal with that on top of the way she looked at me earlier. My brain will explode. “Did you still want to have a movie night tonight?”
That question leads to a long debate about what movie we should watch. London wants to watch Up for the millionth time, and I try to veto that option. It makes me cry every single time. I do not have it in me to deal with those emotions on top of all the shit I’m trying to wade through with Kylie.
Luckily, Kylie convinces London to pick a different movie, and after we’re done cleaning up dinner, we snuggle on the couch to watch. London is tucked between Kylie and me, her eyes riveted on the screen. I stretch my arm across the couch to find a more comfortable position, only to realize too late that I’m in Kylie’s space.
I go to move my arm when she leans back into my hand. Without much thought, I massage her neck and up into her hair. It feels like silk in my hand. I want to grip it in a fist and pull her face toward mine. I would kill for a chance to kiss the hell out of her.
Nope. I’m not thinking about that. Right now, I’m just soothing her tired muscles—trying to relax any tension she might have.
There are so many other ways I could ease that tension.
Fuck.
I force my brain to focus on the movie instead of how badly I want my hands all over Kylie. Somehow, I make it through the movie without doing anything impulsive. Without the years of practice that honed my control, I’m not sure I’d have been able to stop myself from making a move I’d regret.
