Page 64 of Irresistibly Us
A slow smile spreads over Sophie’s face until she’s practicallybeaming at me, and my heart squeezes tightly in my chest because fuck, she’s gorgeous. “You remember all of that?”
Taking a chance, I slide my hands around to either side of her neck, holding her there gently, tipping her head up with my thumbs under her jaw to keep her eyes on mine. Leaning in until our faces are inches apart, I watch as her eyes flare, feeling her body tremble slightly with what I could swear is anticipation when my gaze dips to her lips and back up again. Hear her breath whoosh out when I bypass her mouth and bring my lips directly to her ear. “I remember everything about you, Soph. Every. Fucking. Thing.”
I linger there for a few more seconds, breathing her in, relishing the feeling of being so close to her, absorbing the mix of attraction and confusion radiating from her, before I reach down and grab her hand. She yelps as I spin her out and then back in again, and when she collapses against my chest in a fit of giggles and wild, dark brown curls tickle my chin, I think I have never been happier in my entire life. “Now come on, Broadway baby. Let me see you dance.”
The song switches to “Dancing Queen,” and the crowd lets out a roar so loud the floor shakes. Sophie’s eyes glitter with happiness and fun before she grabs my other hand and leans in. “You going to dance with me, Harry?”
Her words send a spiral of contentment through me, and I know my grin is huge. “Always and forevs, Sal.”
She tosses her head back and laughs before joining right in with the crowd. For the next couple hours, we dance and sing and meet a million new people who are immediately our best friends, and we have the time of our freaking lives. We get hot and sweaty and I never stop touching Sophie and, to my absolute and utter delight, she’s touching me too. Her hand reaching for me. Her arms wrapping around my neck. Her body pressing tightly to mine.
When “Light My Candle” fromRentcomes on, she drags me up onto the stage with her and we channel our very best Mimiand Roger to the wild applause of the crowd, and fuck, I hope someone got it on video because I want to keep it forever. But then I realize I don’t need the video because this night will be tattooed on my brain for all eternity.
During “Seasons of Love,” Sophie stands in front of me, her back to my chest, head resting on my shoulder, my arms wrapped around her waist in a gesture only I know is possession. And when she rolls her head to look up at me, brilliant smile I love on her face, and says, “This is the best night I’ve ever had,” as the crowd sings the song about how you measure a life, I realize I’ve always measured my life in her. And if I have my way, that will never, ever change.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
SOPHIE
“Oh my god,” I say on a laugh as I stumble through the front door of Tyler’s house, immediately tripping over a shoe I must have left there this morning. Or yesterday. Or any day, really. Most of my shoes live in the entryway now because I never know what shoes I’m going to want until seconds before I walk out the door, and even then, I change my mind at least three times, so keeping them in my room is an exercise in futility.
I look around and realize that actually, it’s not just my shoes. On a quick sweep, I count two lip balms and four hair ties on the entry table in the bowl Tyler keeps there for keys, four jackets tossed haphazardly over a chair, a single glove I was sure I lost poking out of my tall winter boot—not to be confused with my short winter boots discarded in front of the coat closet—and, by my count, at least three different bags shoved into two different corners.
“You can tell me to clean my shit up, you know.” I turn to Tyler as I kick off my shoes, wavering a little when I try to get the second one off. Tyler tries to steady me with a hand on myhip, but momentum is not on my side, and I go careening directly into his chest. His perfect, hard, beautiful chest that smells incredibly good despite the fact that we spent the entire night dancing and yelling showtunes at the top of our lungs in a hot, sweaty club.
I’ve never worked harder in my life than I do to suppress the shiver that wants to wrack my body when Tyler’s other arm winds around my waist, securing me to him. My brain knows he’s only doing it so I don’t fall to the floor in a heap, but my traitorous body doesn’t get the message because it’s just spent the last three hours attached to Tyler in some way. His hand on my hip, his lips at my ear as he talked over the music, his fingers laced through mine, and, for a couple delicious minutes I’m still not entirely convinced weren’t a fever dream, both of his arms wrapped around my waist and his cheek resting on my hair during “Seasons of Love.”
I just barely resist the urge to run upstairs and lock myself in my dark bedroom so I can relive that moment over and over again for all eternity.
So yeah, my body has forgotten Tyler is firmly in the friend zone and has staged an all-out revolt. Except are we in the friend zone? Because there is so much about tonight that felt…more than friendly, and I’m awash in thewhat happens nowof it all. It’s almost like we’re one tiny toe over thejust friendsline I’ve always been careful not to cross, and I have no idea how we got here and what it means.
My first instinct is always to say it means nothing. That it’s a mirage borne of three years of wishing and hoping and wanting this man to be mine and all he was trying to do was get my mind off the interview I really should get around to telling him about at some point. Except there were a few times tonight where Tyler looked at me and I could swear there was something extra there. Like he was seeing something he never has before.
The hope is terrifying in its enormity.
“Why would I do that?” Tyler asks, letting me go so he can bend down and untie his own shoes.
“What?” I ask, realizing my brief mental breakdown cut the thread of the conversation in my head and I have no idea what we were talking about.
Tyler stands and smirks at me like he knows right where my brain went. “Why would I want you to clean up your shit? I like it where it is.”
I snort, dropping my bag on the floor and yanking my sweater over my head, tossing it onto the pile of jackets. “There’s no way that’s true. Your house is perfect. Then I move in, and two weeks later it’s the before shot for one of those decluttering, perfect-home-vibes-or-bust social media accounts.”
Shrugging, I walk into the living room and drop down on the couch, kicking my bare feet up on the coffee table. “I’ve made peace with chaos as my brand. My mom is like that too, so I come by it naturally. Neither of us can think in organization. But you didn’t sign up for that, so feel free to tell me it’s driving you bananas.”
Tyler takes the seat next to me, sitting so close our legs press together, and when he reaches over and flicks my bracelets, linking his finger with mine, unexpected emotion I don’t quite understand crawls its way up my throat. With his other hand, he grips my chin, turning my head until our eyes catch, and the intensity behind his gaze has me sucking in a quiet breath. “The only thing that would drive me bananas is if you didn’t do it.” He squeezes my finger with his. “The day of the flood when you came home after work, you burst through the door, dropped all your bags, and kicked your shoes off so hard they hit the wall. Do you know what I thought that night?”
“What?” I practically whisper, unable to tear my eyes away from his.
“I thought about how much I loved it. Proof of Sophie,” he says with a smile, and warmth gathers in my chest. “A reminder that you’re here, and this is the place you come home to. At leastfor a while.” He says that with a tiny frown, as if the idea that this is temporary displeases him. It displeases me too. “I love having you here, Soph. Tripping over your shoes and helping you find the glove you’re sure you lost and collecting your hair ties so you always have one when you need it. Sticking lip balms back in your purses when you take them out and forget to replace them and washing your favorite pajamas so you never have to wear the backup pairs I know you secretly hate. All your stuff everywhere is you, and I never want you to be anyone except for exactly who you are.”
His smile turns soft, and when he strokes a thumb over my jaw, I decide I live here now. Sitting next to Tyler on his couch with his hand on my face and his pinkie linked with mine and his eyes radiating a calm sort of happiness that takes my breath away. “You’re my best friend, Sophie. My favorite person. And I really, really like who you are.”
His eyes bore into mine, filled with intensity and the slightest bit of heat that makes everything inside me shimmer. The silence between us is so thick it’s tangible, and the air practically vibrates with anticipation. With want. With…heat.
Oh, holy fuck.
“Bed!” I practically yell, jumping up from the couch like my ass is on fire because if I stay here next to Tyler for one more second, I’ll kiss him. I know it for sure. A girl only has so much restraint, and when her best friend is looking at her likethatand sitting there all hot and disheveled and abundantly kissable, she needs to get the fuck out of dodge before she takes a sledgehammer to the friendship and, potentially, our entire twisty, convoluted family tree.
