Wild Like Us (Like Us 8)

Am I capable of it?

Yeah.

To her?

No.

But I can’t blame her for feeling this way when I kept asserting how our friendship was just that. Friendship. Written in cement. Carved in marble. Etched in the center of the Earth.

“I’m not going to pull that switch,” I say from my core. “I promise you, Sulli. I don’t just want to be your friend.”

Her green eyes smile before her lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I nod. “And it’s not snowing, so this can’t be a dream.”

“Have you had one of those in a while?” she wonders, looking more concerned.

“Actually, no,” I admit. Now that I think about it, the last one was the night before the cougar attack.

Her brows rise, just as surprised as I am. She opens her mouth to reply, but Chuck returns with three shopping bags filled with containers of live crickets. They’re loud as shit. He shows us the self-checkout pad, then trots to the back.

Sulli refuses to let me pay. “It’s my idea.”

I still have my wallet out. “I can put this on my business card.”

“How does this relate to your security firm?”

“It relates to you,” I remind her.

“No,” she snaps. “I have money.” From her trust fund. And she contends, “You’d never put up a fight before.”

“That’s because you weren’t my girlfriend before.” The word girlfriend comes out, and I eat another bowl of Instant Regret. Because I feel bad for Banks.

What is this guilt?

I wish I didn’t care that much about his feelings in all of this, but I can’t shut it off.

Sulli looks thunderstruck.

“I meant date,” I correct. “I’m dating you, and I wouldn’t let a date pay.”

“Is this a date?” she starts to smile.

“A casual one,” I nod. Definitely not what I’d do on a normal date. Buy crickets for revenge. But Sullivan Meadows is an American princess, so I never thought this would be normal.

She smiles. “Alright.” But she swipes her debit card in the pad. “I’m paying for my date this time around.”

“Fine,” I sigh with a smile, then slip the card into my wallet. Before we leave, the two of us linger near a rack of canoes on the far wall. She must want extra time with me too. My chest rises, and we both set down our shopping bags.

Sulli pretends to inspect the three-person canoe. Mostly, she keeps glancing back at me.

I ask, “What’s on your mind?”

Her fingers skim down the canoe’s vibrant green exterior. “I just hope you know that I’m supportive of you and your businesses. I don’t want to hold you back, and I don’t blame you for bailing.”

It’s hard to inhale. “Is that what you think? That I’m bailing on you?”

She brushes her hair out of her face. “No…I don’t know. I guess in a sense you technically are, but it’s understandable. And I understand you want more than just to be my full-time bodyguard.”

I don’t want more than that.

But I do.

I hate that I do.

I’ve wanted it for my dad. For myself. Since I was eighteen and I started my own gym, I’ve wanted it all. And it’s been hard. I’ve met setbacks and roadblocks and now creating a new company has its own challenges. But no challenge is harder than saying goodbye to Sulli.

Connor Cobalt’s voice rings in my head: Be a full-time bodyguard or be a businessman. There’s a great chance you won’t be able to do both.

That time hasn’t come yet. I refuse to believe it has.

“I’m still your bodyguard,” I remind her. “Nothing’s changed.” Yet.

She nods, but she doesn’t look fully convinced. “To be fucking crystal, I want whatever brings you the most happiness. If that means leaving my detail for something else, I’ll understand.” She pauses. “I wouldn’t say it won’t hurt. Someone once told me that love hurts, so that’s probably why it wouldn’t be that easy.”

Love.

I breathe in. “Who said that?” I smile teasingly.

She hesitates, wavers, shifts her weight. “Me?”

Banks said it.

Fucking Banks.

I can’t even be upset. “You wouldn’t even win bronze in Lying. You’d get a cheap tin-bottle cap with the words Loser in marker.”

She shoves my arm with a smile.

I smile back, then get more serious. “I appreciate your support—I always will, but it’s not easy for me to just walk away either. I love being your bodyguard, Sulli. I want to be on your detail as much as I can, as long as I can.” As I edge nearer, I glance at her lips; she glances at mine, and I say, “And I want to kiss you.”

My fingers tighten on her wrists at her side, and her breath hitches.

“A friendly kiss, or…?” She smiles playfully but it falters as she stares at my mouth.

My lips drop to her ear, giving her more. “I’ve heard you come, Sul. I’ve made you come. And every night, I go to bed picturing myself inside of you. So no, not a friendly kiss.”