“Could, but isn’t.”
“Do you ever give up?”
I shake my head. “Where’s the fun in that?”
That makes her smile. “If my dad doesn’t care, then sure, you can take me.”
And because I want to spend even more time with her, I ask her to have dinner with Dad and me tonight. When she accepts, I wrap her arms around my waist, try not to think about how close her body is to mine, and focus on texting my dad to let him know.
“How many best friends do you have?” I ask.
“Just one. Well, two if you count Logan. But her name is Carey. We used to hate each other and then I don’t remember what happened exactly, but we became friends in the fifth grade. She’s been the only solid friend I’ve been able to keep so far while growing up.”
“What is she like?”
“She’s more outgoing than I am. She’s a straight shooter where I might beat around the bush. She’s honest, helpful, caring, and all the good traits you want in a friend. She talks to a lot of guys, but not sure if she’s ever serious with any of them at any point in time.”
“What about you?” I interrupt, not caring at all about her friend even though I asked.
“What about me?”
“Do you talk to a lot of guys?”
She laughs. “There’s never that many interested in me at the same time, so no.” That sentence doesn’t even make sense to me. How are all the dipshits where she lives not breaking down her doors and begging for a date?
“Ever had a boyfriend?”
She shakes her head, those freaking cheeks of hers turning a shade of pink. Damn it, I want to kiss her again. I have to kiss her before she leaves. Who knows when I’ll see her again. If I’ll ever see her again. God, what if I never see her again? I despise thinking it.
Sorry, Dad. I’m so fucking attached. I don’t know how or why, but I am.
Sydney is eyeing me curiously as she says, “What are you thinking about?”
“Kissing you.” There’s no filter when it comes to me and her, and I don’t care because she sharply inhales in surprise, her gaze dropping to my mouth. My back bumps into the boards and brings us to a stop. That causes Sydney to bump into me. My hands are on her hips and I keep her nestled against me. I feel like I should ask for some stupid reason, but the signs are there. That’s all I need. Leaning in, my heart explodes as my mouth meets hers.
The kiss from earlier was perfect.
This one is somehow better.
How is this even possible?
Sydney leans into me. Her tongue tentatively traces my lower lip, so I grant her access and it’s like the shyness disappears with that. The kiss is just as hungry and demanding as before, but it’s like whiplash because it’s slower than the one on the plane. Sydney is in control here. She can do whatever she wants to me, and god, I hope she will.
Before my grandma died, I had two best friends: Carey and Logan. After her funeral, I had three: Carey, Logan, and Ian. We kissed four times while I was there, as he made sure to kiss me before I left his house after having dinner with him and his dad, and then he kissed me when we were once again at the airport. I went from having never been kissed to having been kissed four times in the span of a weekend.
I still think it’s the craziest thing to ever happen to me.
Ian texts or calls me every single day. We talk about nothing, our families, our friends, school, and each other. He’s become my go-to person, though I’d never say that to Logan or Carey. They both think we talk too much. The last thing they need to know is that on the best friend tier, Ian is at the top.
Things have become confusing, too. I like Ian. The more I talk to him, the more I like him. I smile when he calls me gorgeous. I get irritated when he says stupid shit to get a rise out of me, which seems to be something he immensely enjoys. We’ve even exchanged some dirty texts. That’s also a first for me. Ian Rhett seems to be taking all of my firsts. That’s something I like and something that scares me at the same time. But where Ian is concerned, I seem to have some confidence that I definitely don’t have with other guys.
I’ve almost asked if I could visit my dad again, but every time I want to ask, Ian ends up having some hockey thing to do or he’s down in Florida visiting his mother, so it wouldn’t work. Plus, I’m too chicken to ask him if he’d want to see me again. It’s been a year since we’ve seen one another. I ache to see him. Sometimes, it’s unbearable. So unbearable that it’s tempting to ask if I can move in with my dad.
Yeah.
I get that desperate to see him.
And then, there’s a day like today.