The Bookworm's Guide to Faking It (The Bookworm's Guide 2)

“Can we?” I raised an eyebrow. “Because it feels like there’s something we haven’t dealt with.”

“We were eighteen. We were kids. It’s all irrelevant now. There’s nothing left to be dealt with.” She moved, but I put my arm out once again.

This time, I wrapped it around her body and pinned her against me. She took a deep breath in and it shuddered out. She was trying to control her breathing but failing, and dismally so.

I reached up with my free hand and tucked her hair behind her ear. Her sweater had fallen off her shoulder, exposing her skin, and all I wanted to do was drop my mouth there and kiss a path from her collarbone to her shoulder and back again.

“Here’s what I think,” I whispered in her ear, staring at the curve of her collarbone. “I think there’s a whole bunch of stuff we haven’t dealt with. We sorted out the issue that ended our friendship, but not the feelings that led up to that issues.”

“There’s nothing to sort out. It was years ago.” Her voice was quiet, and her still-juddery breaths gave away her uncertainty.

“There’s a lot to sort out,” I replied, my own voice barely above a whisper. “Mostly to do with the fact I’d intended to kiss you that night and never got a chance to.”

“You’re not kissing me.”

“I’m not. But I could.”

“But you won’t.”

She didn’t sound too sure about that.

“I won’t, huh?”

Holley shook her head. “Because we’re friends,” she breathed out, staring at the wall in front of her. “And that’s not what friends do. Besides, you tried it earlier and it didn’t go well.”

“Like I said, that wasn’t a kiss. That was a placation.”

“It was a kiss.”

“No, it wasn’t.” I moved so I was standing in front of her. I hooked my finger under her chin and tilted her head up so she had to meet my eyes. “Holley, when I kiss you, you’ll know about it.”

She said nothing, just stared into my eyes. It was almost a challenge, daring me to follow through with the threat I’d just made.

I held her gaze and only moved when my phone rang in my pocket. Then, I dropped my hand, stepped back, and pulled it out to answer. “Hello?” I said, never taking my eyes from her.

“Mr. Stone? Your cab is outside waiting for you.”

“Thank you. I’ll be down in two minutes.” I hung up and put it back in my pocket. “That’s my cab.”

Holley nodded, swallowing. “Bye, then.”

I shrugged on my coat and wrapped up warm with the rest of my stuff. “Just bye? That’s it?”

“What else do you want me to do? I don’t have the time to throw you a going away party, Sebastian.”

I grinned. Clearly she’d managed to pull herself together enough to inject a little sass into the conversation. I wasn’t going to argue further with her tonight—I’d already made my point, and I was going to leave her to think it over.

Not that I ever expected her to admit I was right.

I wasn’t sure she’d ever admitted I was right, even though it was a regular occurrence.

“See you soon.” I smirked and let myself out, leaving her staring at me like she didn’t know whether to kiss me or slap me.

She’d probably go with slap me, but I was definitely partial to the first option.

A part of me wondered if I was only feeling this way because I’d never handled this when we were eighteen. If it was just leftover, unresolved emotions that needed to be dealt with so they could be put in a box and never paid attention to again.

Then I remembered how it’d felt to kiss her this morning.

That brief touch of our lips that had been a little firmer than I’d intended.

I hadn’t wanted to let her go.

I’d wanted to lean back in and kiss her properly. I’d wanted to feel her melt against me, to kiss me back.

And I still did.

All I really wanted was to kiss Holley and know what it felt like to have her kiss me back.

And that was fucking terrifying.***The weather had eased long enough for Dylan to confirm he was coming to town this weekend. He’d stay with me for three nights, long enough for us to work through a new workout routine for me to hopefully further my rehab, and then he’d head back to the city until he had another place to stay.

I hoped it would be Saylor’s apartment. We’d already made plans to introduce them on Saturday afternoon at the store, so I had my fingers crossed that they got along and could figure something out that would be beneficial for both of them.

I parked up a block away from the bookstore. I hadn’t spoken to Holley for two days. She’d been busy at the store with a huge delivery ready to be handled before Christmas, and my mom had spent the last forty-eight hours talking my ear off about Thanksgiving.