More Than His Best Friend (More Than Best Friends Book 1)

by Sally Henson

  I don't want to talk about this. “I'm not interested in anyone. You know how I feel about dating. You remember what happened with my cousin, Susanna.”

  “How could I forget.” I glance over at his sarcasm and see him roll his eyes.

  “No boyfriends until I'm ready to get married. I'm not ready.”

  “You haven't negated anything I've said, though.”

  “I don't want that to happen to me. I don't want anything more to stand in the way of my dreams. It's hard enough the way it is.”

  “I see.” His voice drops and he looks away. “Do your dreams include me?”

  “You're my best friend. I've always wanted to share my dreams with you and Tobi.”

  “But you don't treat us the same.”

  “What do you mean I don't treat you the same? I'm closer to the two of you than anyone.” The canopy of the trees protects us from the light. It’s growing dim and shadowy, and we’re only halfway back to the house. I try to pick up the pace but he won't follow my lead.

  “You didn't invite me to sleep over last week when Tobi did. Why do you think that is?” He's changing tactics on me.

  “I’m a girl. You’re a boy.”

  “How does gender matter if we’re best friends?”

  I don't answer.

  He lets all that sink in before he starts again. “We need to say it out loud, Regan. My leaving has forced me to realize what we are to each other. I don't want you to be as close to anyone else as we are with each other—especially another guy.” He pauses. “We don't have to call each other boyfriend-girlfriend. We're more than that anyway. And we don't have to be touchy-feely, though we do that more than we realize already.”

  I gasp, whipping my head to stare him down. “No, we don't!”

  He’s wearing a smirk and hitches his shoulder as if what he’s suggesting is not big deal.

  “We don't touch each other like that.”

  “We do. It's just been—natural.” He leans toward me. “We didn't realize we were doing it.”

  “Are you on drugs?”

  He turns back and blows out a dismissive sound. “When we go out with Tobi or the gang, who do you sit by? At the movies, the diner—me. You sit by me. When we go swimming at the cliffs, we always ride together. We always find a way to be together.”

  “We have good conversations, and we ride together because we live closer to each other than the rest.”

  His eyebrows raised, peaking above his sunglasses. “Have you massaged Cameron's shoulders?”

  I growl. “Of course not! He's so crude he'd use it against me in some way.” Cameron will use anything to tease me.

  “What about Haylee or Tobi?”

  “I don't know,” I reply, raising my tone. If I could cross my arms and turn away from him, I would.

  “Does Tobi play with your hair?”

  “She fixes and braids my hair sometimes.”

  He pulls his sunglasses off. “You know what I mean.” His eyes pierce through me. “Do you let anyone else hug you when you're cold? How about steal gazes, checking out each other’s half-naked bodies?” His body twists to face me as we walk.

  His accusations run red hot through me. My jaw tightens and I push my words through my clenched teeth. “I don't check out half-naked bodies.”

  “Oh,” he sings, as if he just understood the theory of relativity. “You did mine when we were swimming last week.” Is that why he was looking at me like that when we’re laying on our rafts?

  “No, I didn't!”

  “When we were all lying on our rafts in a circle—I saw you taking me in. I know you saw me doing the same thing to you.”

  Heat colors my skin and my heart rate accelerates even more. I start to speak, but nothing I say is going to stop him so I close my mouth and purse my lips.

  “What about today? Surely, you remember waking up and looking me over without my shirt on? You did the same thing when I put it back on.”

  I close my eyes for a long moment. Chills run up my spine. He's right, but it was only a dream. Gah, he’s got a nice body. What am I supposed to do?

  I try to keep the pace without saying a word, focusing on the end of the path that's nearing us, but he is slowing down.

  “Don't be embarrassed. What do you think I was doing while you were sleeping? I mean you weren't half-naked, but you looked so adorable, sleeping next to me.”

  I wish he would quit talking like that.

  “I couldn't help but move your hair from your face to see you better. Your skin is so soft and silky.”

  “Stop it.” Though I’m looking forward, I can see the warm, radiant glow overtaking him.

  He grows silent as we finally break through the forest's edge to my backyard.

  22

  Regan

  It's darker than it should be for this time of day. Through the tree limbs above, I see the clouds are quickly moving in, covering what's left of the fading sunlight. After we set the cooler on Lane’s tailgate, I turn and head for the shed.

  I fumble in the darkness for an empty spot along the wooden ledge for the pail and find one near the corner. Something made a noise behind me. I turn cautiously and look down the shelf that lines the entire shed. I see nothing. I take a step toward the direction I came from. A plink from the same direction draws my attention. It’s probably just Lane being a jerk.

  That's it. Game's over.

  I step forward until my glare meets what's in front of me. “You're so funny.” I sigh and continue on my path out.

  He stands, legs wide and unmoving, arms crossed, head bent down, glaring back at me. The Jeep is parked next to the wall, and I can't go around him.

  “Move,” I order him.

  He doesn't budge.

  “Come on, let me out.” My tone is a little more civil this time. “Please?”

  “On two conditions.”

  I roll my eyes. “What conditions?” How does he have the nerve to give me conditions?

  “One. I want you to honestly spend some serious time thinking about everything I've said this afternoon. Especially the examples I gave you.” He puts his arms down and shifts his weight.

  “Two?” I bug my eyes out at him.

  He stands there looking at me with a cute grin. I don't want him to have a cute grin on his face. I want to keep being upset. This is serious.

  I look down at my feet and tap my shoe on the rock floor. When I raise my head to encourage his answer he takes a step toward me.

  “There are three conditions.” His voice morphs from demanding into something low and soft that draws me in.

  “Three?” I squeak. There's sixth sense going on inside me. The adrenaline begins to flow in my veins.

  “Second.” He pauses and moves a couple inches closer to me, pushing my blood to flow even faster. “Think what it would be like if I dated someone. How would you feel if I started going out with Tobi, or Stacey, or if I met someone at college to spend time with that would keep my weekends busy?”

  “That's not—”

  “Ah!” He shushes me, putting his finger to my lips, causing a chain reaction in my stomach.

  Butterflies are flitting around. What's happening here?

  “These are possibilities you need to think about. I already have.”

  I swallow hard. The lump in my throat keeps making an appearance.

  Shifting his weight again, he continues, “I've been very honest with you. It's not easy for me to admit my feelings and especially hard to share them out loud—with you.”

  I start to look away, but he stops me by reaching for my face. He gently slides his fingers through my hair and rests his thumbs on the tender flesh near my ear. I don’t like that I like it.

  His grin grows wide with his eyes.

  No. He knows what I’m thinking. I can't let myself like this. His touch feels nice, but it's weirding me out, too.

  Deliberately, intensely, he studies me. His eyes wander from my hair to my neck and everywhere in between, a
s if memorizing a treasure map.

  The butterflies are migrating to my chest, making it harder to breathe.

  He mumbles, “Third condition.”

  I give an exaggerated sigh, tiring of his conditions, and shut my lids. I want to end this whole thing.

  Suddenly, his lips are on mine. What is he doing? Oh … they’re so soft and warm and gentle. He's kissing me? My eyes pop open. He is kissing me.

  The butterflies are at Mach one. They try to burst through my chest. I feel my pulse thrumming in every vein in my body, quickening my breathing. I'm not sure what to do.

  His lips part slightly, moving at a pace that’s somehow increasing all my symptoms—fear and elation at the same time.

  I kiss him back. My eyes are still open, plastered wide, staring in this dimness at his face that has never been so close to mine. Not like this. His eyes, even closed, are beautiful with long lashes. I breathe in the smell of fresh air from his skin. My hands find his hips, fingers curl around his belt loops, but I’m afraid to bring him closer, struggling with myself to put a stop to this.

  Another moment or two, and Lane slowly pulls away. His eyes eagerly survey my expression in the shadowy shed. Satisfied with what he finds, he leans his forehead against mine and closes his eyes—out of breath—his hands still on my face.

  I let go of the belt loops, hanging my arms by my sides. My eyes are still wide, taking in what I can, but my feet are planted in the earth below me, unmoving.

  Lane releases a breathy chuckle with a quick, open smile, ending with his lower lip between his teeth. That was…dang…and the lip biting…oh, wow. And he wasn't even trying.

  I'm in trouble. So much trouble. My best friend just kissed me. The worse part about it—I liked it.

  His eyes gradually open. He pulls away just enough to observe me from head to toe. Somehow his eyes manage to sparkle in the umbra of the shed. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” His voice is that low lullaby I love. “Third condition.” He bats his lids shut again for a moment, reveling in what just happened. “Think about how that kiss made you feel.”

  My head quickly shakes back and forth. I can't stop thinking about it.

  He speaks in a beckoning whisper, “We are so close, Regan. Nothing needs to change between us. Only a promise to each other—it's me and you—no one else. You don't need to worry that I'm going to be holding your hand in public or kissing you all the time. That won't change, unless you want it to.” I hear the smile in his voice. “We can keep this to ourselves. Not even our parents need to know right now, okay?”

  He waits for acknowledgment from me, but I can't seem to say anything right now.

  “I was going to give you a week, but after that kiss...” His chest rises and he flashes an excited dimple-clad smile.

  The sound of sprinkles pings off the shed's metal roof.

  He releases my face, looks up at the roof, then grabs my hands, and raises them to meet his lips. “I'll give you a few days, but call me or come over anytime you want.”

  Placing my hands back at my sides, he takes a step back. His lips part as if he’s about to say something.

  A crack of thunder peels through the heavens as the pings turn into a steady ringing of rain.

  Lane turns on his heal and jogs to his truck. Opening his door, he yells to me, where I haven't moved a muscle, “I'm still your best friend, no matter what.”

  The sound of the truck door shutting and the engine coming to life loosens my legs. I drag my heavy legs the entire four steps out the opening of the shed. All I see are taillights through the rain as he turns out of the drive. Now that I’m out in the open, my tears pouring a continuous stream down my cheeks, mix with the water pouring from the sky over my hair and shoulders.

  When I enter the house, I don't want to see anyone or speak to anyone. On my way to the bathroom, I act like nothing’s wrong and call out to my parents as I walk by, “I have practice early tomorrow. Night.”

  After I sling my wet clothes in the tub, I pee, dry my hair, and wrap myself in a towel, before snatching a roll of toilet paper I know I’m going to need to wipe my nose. My body’s trembling and I’m about to lose it as I tip-toe to my room. Quietly, I shut my door and lean against it for a moment, thankful for the privacy. My bed is against the only wall with a window in my room. I slip on my P.J.’s, crawl across my quilt and open the window a little to hear the rain mixed with crickets and frogs while they talk in the night.

  With a quiet sob, I lie down...and then I lose it.

  23

  Regan

  My whole body shakes as I sob against my pillow. Shut it, Regan, or your parents will come in asking what's wrong. I'm losing my best friend. How can I keep it together? First, I'm losing Lane to a four-year institution. These past few months we talked about him going off to school, what he would be doing, the cool parts of campus—I was excited. It felt as if I were experiencing it, too, as if we were going to be away at school together. It sounds crazy now. I know we're not the same age. I know I'm still in high school. But, not once do I remember considering the real consequences of him being gone.

  My body shudders again. I tear off a few sheets of toilet paper and blow my nose as quietly as possible.

  Thinking ahead to when he’ll be gone tears me up inside. Lunch without him and not seeing him between classes every single day? I squeeze my eyes, gritting my teeth. How did I not think about these things? My chest is caving in, crushing my heart. Lane's been a part of my life longer than he hasn’t. Sundays without him have never existed for me. It's like we’re tied together … family.

  Steady rain turns to an all-out storm. Thunder splinters through my body and another gut-wrenching sob escapes me. I try to hold it in, but I can't, hoping the storm camouflages my outbursts. Losing Lane to school was bad enough, but now … I feel like I’m losing him a second time. His confession will forever change the way we are around one another. How can we go on being friends after all that he said? After kissing me like he did? And those stupid conditions!

  I wipe my eyes on my tear stained pillow and wrap my arms around my middle. Did I miss the little hints that he was crossing over the line of friendship into something more? How could he do this to me? To us? We've grown up together. We've leaned on each other. Now, friendship will never be enough. On his part, anyway. He said everything could stay the same, but I don't see how that's possible. Another crack of thunder rattles the window-pane, and I reach my hand over the frame to pull it lower so the rain doesn't get my blanket wet. There's a storm raging inside me too. It's fueled by loss—hurt—confusion.

  I don't want to even think about Lane’s stupid conditions. I blow my nose again and toss the crumpled tissue on the mounding pile next to my bed. We’re close and we trust each other—that's why we’re so comfortable around each other. That's why being with him seems … natural. I don't pretend I'm someone else, and he doesn't, either. Lane and I know each other’s history. Our history is us. Except … I suck in a deep shaky breath … He did date a girl his sophomore year before she moved. These past two years, we've become a lot closer. I chalked it up to us being in high school and more freedoms together. We hung out more than just on Sunday's and during summers. I try, and fail, to swallow the growing lump in my throat.

  Touching each other on a level other than friendship isn't really a subject I’m comfortable with. My chest tightens. I’ve never allowed anyone else to rub my shoulders, hug me close when I'm cold, and stare at me the way Lane does. He plays with my hair, a lot, come to think of it, when it's just the two of us. It's relaxing. I've massaged his shoulders after his baseball games and thought nothing of it. Nothing ever seemed forced or premeditated. I didn't consciously know I was checking him out. My hands ball into fists and I pound my hands and feet against my bed like a toddler throwing a tantrum. I'm such an idiot! Is he right? What he said about watching him on the raft … is it true?

  As for his second condition? I don't know that I've given any thought to
him dating anyone. Yeah, he lets stupid girls fawn over him, but he never goes out on dates. He hangs out with me, with our group of friends.

  If he dated Tobi, I’d be crushed. I mean, I don’t think I’d could ever be friends with either of them again. And Stacey? He might as well stab me in the back with a knife in both hands, and then drop kick the blades all the way in. That would be the ultimate betrayal.

  I suck in a breath and sit up. Even if he dated someone from college I’d be trying to hold on to him and he’d be pushing me away. What if he does? My chest tightens and it’s suddenly hard to breathe. Ugh. All those pretty girls waiting for a guy like him.

  Any feeling other than friendship I have for him has been stuffed into the black void at the back of my brain so I don't have to deal with it. I pull my knees to my chest and hold on tight. If I’m being honest with myself, I think I’ve sort of claimed Lane as mine. Subconsciously…ugh…how could I have been so unaware? Maybe Lane's not like a brother to me after all, and I've been denying it. How long have we been doing this unspoken dance?

  I slam my lids shut and shake my head. No. I can't think of my best friend in that way. I don't want to think of anyone in that way. Listen to Susanna's advice, Regan. Remember what she went through.

  Susanna's been very upfront with me about everything, so it wouldn't happen to me. She doesn't want me to make the same mistakes. Lane’s practically family, so he knows my cousin Susanna. She had a free ride to the University of Illinois to play volleyball, but one stupid boy blew her dreams away.

  Jesse had started going to church with her their senior year. They were going to do things right—college, marriage, and then sex. That spring and summer they spent every possible moment with each other because they knew they wouldn't see each other much once they went off to different colleges. Susanna told me how she justified pushing the boundaries by telling herself they loved each other and they were going to get married after college.

  A month before school started, she found out she was pregnant, and her life was forever changed from that moment on. Not only did her college plans get put on the back burner, her man ended up being a rat. The gossips in town made sure she was knocked off the great All-American girl pedestal and ran over a few thousand times by a monster truck.