The Best Friend Zone

It comes back with a vengeance because I’m sure he isn’t just talking about the ditch incident with Hellboy.

“It makes sense. I mean, as long as I know I can land safely on my feet or there’s something to grab on to, I’m fine. When I know I can’t, I’m not so fine.”

That sounds silly, but it’s truly how it works for me.

“I ain’t arguing the point,” he says, giving my hand a squeeze. “Plenty of better things we can do with these mouths.”

Holy hell.

Does he mean more kissing or…

My eyes flick to a noticeable bulge in his pants. He’s as hard as I am sopping wet.

As much as I’d love to find out exactly what his mouth can do—and what mine could do to him—fear climbs up my throat.

I’m suddenly lashed with heat, confusion, desire, and doubt. Too many conflicted emotions to process when we’re stuck up here in the sky.

“I’m not arguing either, just making a point,” I tell him, ignoring the hint.

I don’t even know where my mind is anymore.

Sorting up from down has officially become impossible.

Kissing Quinn makes me feel like we’ve stepped into an alternate universe where the rules are far from clear, and that’s not a place I can be.

Because with him and those rogue lips, we’ve left the stratosphere, and I just know.

I know I could never land on my feet again if I fall.

Thank God the wheel jerks forward again, saving us from an awkward silence.

As soon as the attendant unlocks the door and removes the brace bar, I jump off the seat and stand up in a rush.

“Whoa.” Quinn catches my arm with his big hand. “Peach, slow down.”

“This has been riveting, but I just realized…I need to get home. Check on Granny. I don’t like her being alone for too long.” I clamp my lips together, knowing I’m babbling, but I have to get out of here.

Away from him.

Before we screw up everything.

It hits me how sudden this is, how reckless, how our worlds are completely different.

He might be one notch below Mr. Perfect, but I’m Little Miss Booboo.

“Okay, yeah, Granny’s probably back home by now after having her burrito, all alone, twiddling her thumbs,” he says mockingly.

Fine. I deserve that.

We both know Gran never needed anybody looking after her.

I just…I need to think.

Kissing him still lives in me, electrifying my senses, and as much as the wet heat between my legs screams to go right back to his place and do more…that angry noodle in my head yells back bad, bad idea.

I’m punch drunk on adrenaline, on lust, and I’ve learned by hard knocks that’s no state to make any big decisions in—especially decisions with ginormous butterfly effects.

Like sleeping with my best friend, for one.

“Sorry to flip out. This isn’t like me, and I liked what happened, Quinn, but…” I tug on his hand, shooting him a smile.

The red-hot gaze he throws back almost burns me down on the spot.

“No need to explain. If you gotta go, we’ll head on home. Let’s find the Larkins and Barnets and say goodbye,” Quinn tells me.

I nod eagerly.

Hellishly awkward aftermath of the hottest make-out session of my life aside, it was a fun night.

I loved seeing Bella again and meeting her hubby. Always my favorite person after Quinn on those bygone Dallas summers.

The other two couples are just exiting the ride.

We wait for them and bid our farewells.

The entire ride home, I’m torn between hoping he’ll ignore my crap and kiss me goodnight, and also hoping he won’t.

Seriously.

What the hell is wrong with me?

“Well, thanks for everything. I’m glad I could help you get pictures of that creeper,” I say as soon as he pulls up in the driveway. I pop the door open before he stops the truck. “And the rodeo was fun! You were right to pick me up; it was worth sacrificing an eggplant to have a little fun.”

“Tory—” Quinn starts, but he never gets in another word.

“Night!” I dart out and run to the garage door, mashing the buttons, then dash beneath it as soon as it starts rolling up.

Granny meets me at the door into the house with a confused scowl on her face. “Why’d you use this door? I left the front unlocked.”

“Because I…” I glance into the hall, looking for an excuse, my brain and my heart and every sense I own fried.

A hundred questions from her is so not what I need right now.

Seeing the bathroom, I stiffen.

“Gran, I…I think the burrito I ate is about to come up!” I dash past her and race for the toilet.

Honestly, my stomach feels fine.

It’s my heart that wishes it could heave up a hundred conflicting feels, drain the emotional venom from my system.

How can one hot mess of exquisite kisses do this to a girl?

How can a man you’ve known for half your life feel so right when he’s wrongness incarnate?