Page 53 of What We Brave
For one perfect, terrifying moment, he kisses me back. His handcomes up to cradle my jaw, and his lips move against mine, and shoot, there's heat. So much heat. A scary amount.
Then he's pulling away. Standing. Dumping me off his knee so fast I stumble.
"Blake—" Oh my God. I should not have done that. That was such a bad idea.
He's already pacing. Three steps away, turning, three steps back. His chest is heaving like he's been running. He won't look at me.
"What the hell was that?"
"I don't—" I follow him, trying to get into his line of sight. He turns away. "Blake, please."
"You can't just—" He runs both hands through his hair, gripping the back of his skull. "You can'tdothat, Laine. You can't?—"
"I know. I know, I'm sorry, I just—"I just had to know. Now I wish I didn't.
"Why?" He spins to face me finally, and there's something desperate in his expression. Hurt and confused and angry all tangled together. I am such a jerk. A completely selfish jerk. "Why did you do that?"
"I don't know." More lies. If there is a hell, I'm definitely going there.
"That's not good enough." His voice is harsh. Not cruel like before, not designed to wound, but hard. Demanding. "You don't get to kiss me like that and then say you don't know."
He's totally in the right. I'm the one who screwed up. "I felt like I had to." True. And not. I didn't have to. I wanted to. I'm thirty-two years old. Old enough to know that this pull that I'm feeling is rare. "I needed to?—"
"Needed to what? See if you could break me twice?" He laughs, a harsh, horrible sound. "Mission accomplished. Gold star. You can tell Reid you?—"
"This isn't about Reid!" I yell. Yep, people are looking. We both stand still, long enough for everyone to go back to what they were doing.
It's not about Reid. It should be, but it's not. How can I feel terrible about all of this, but still want to kiss him again?
"Bullshit." He's pacing again. Agitated. Like a lion in a cage. Is itterrible that I think he's beautiful? It's terrible. I know that. But I can't help it. "Everything is about Reid. You're his—you were his?—"
"I'm not anyone's anything right now!" I grab his arm, force him to stop moving. I want his eyes on me. "I don't know what I am or what I want or who I want it with. I just know I couldn't stop thinking about you, and I needed to know?—"
His chest is heaving, eyes burning into mine. "Know what?"
"If I have feelings too!"
The words echo in the cold air. Somewhere nearby, the guitar has stopped. I don't know if anyone is watching us, and right now I don't care.
Blake is staring at me. His arm is rigid under my grip.
"Feelings," he repeats flatly.
"Yes." My voice cracks. "Feelings. For you. The kind I shouldn't have. The kind that make me feel like a terrible person because you're his best friend and I was supposed to love him—I did love him—but then you told me what you felt and I couldn't stopthinkingabout it?—"
"Laine."
"And I know it's wrong. I know it's probably a betrayal of everything, and Reid would hate me, and you probably hate me too now because I just complicated everything even more?—"
"Laine."
"But I had to know, okay? I had to kiss you and see if it felt like something or nothing, because I can't keep wondering?—"
"Laine." His hands close around my shoulders. Firm. Grounding. "Stop. Breathe."
I breathe. Once. Twice.
"What did it feel like?" His voice is quiet now. Rough. "The kiss. What did it feel like?"
