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

by Sally Henson

  The few clouds in the sky are beginning to glow a dark violet-blue hue on the bottom as the distance between sun and horizon becomes less. Lane’s smooth voice breaks through the soft music, “Did you know in the color prism, blue is refracted at a shorter wavelength? It scatters, making the longer orange and red colorings in the sun rise and set more prominent.”

  I do know this, but I want to hear the science behind the beauty roll off his tongue. It’s dreamy. “Go on.”

  “Sunlight has a shorter distance through the atmosphere when it’s at noon than any other time—there's less refracting. In the evening, when the sun is setting …” He removes his arm from around me to motion, showing the direction the sunlight takes. His voice pulls me into a trance as he continues to explain why sunset has certain colors.

  I watch his mouth move as he speaks. Soft light bounces off the golden streaks of his hair and washes over his skin. He turns toward me. His sunset science circulates invisible currents between us, igniting fireworks. Pressure builds in my chest, my stomach, like a bottle of soda tossed around in the bed of a pickup.

  “See, how it seems to be sinking so quickly?”

  “Mm-hm.” I hum the words dreamily. I feel myself inching closer to him, trying not to explode.

  “The sun seems red as it kisses the horizon, lingering for a few moments before it disappears.”

  His intelligence, the butterflies when I think about him, the missed opportunities, his looming departure, the electricity between us, the pressure building inside me, the angle of the sunlight on his face, the words on his lips of science and kissing and lingering ...

  I turn toward him and let my lips lead the way. “Lane,” I whisper.

  He turns back to me, his crystalline eyes reflecting light.

  Go to the light. I lean in so close. “Are you going to kiss me?”

  He grins and quickly answers in his low sexy voice, “Yes, ma’am.”

  Our lips touch, and my pressure bottled chest releases without an explosion. It doesn’t keep my insides from being just as jittery as the first time he kissed me, though.

  One kiss changed everything. And now I’m more than his best friend.

  My arm slides around him. His kiss is slow and warm and sweet and somehow better than the last. We pull apart long enough to catch our breath. His lips meet mine one more time, so soft and meaningful, and I curl up next to him.

  Lane’s kisses aren’t the hurried, rushed, sloppy, slobbery, gross kind I've heard girls talk about. Their description turned me off on the whole idea, truthfully. Kissing Lane is more thrilling than road surfing, cliff jumping, and pump jack riding combined. I absolutely, positively love kissing him.

  We sit, fingers entwined, leaning our heads against each other, watching God’s amazing show glow on the horizon as the sun finally disappears.

  “Lane?” I suck in a quick breath, hoping to find a little courage before I face him. “I have no idea what I'm doing. I don't know how to be a girlfriend or whatever.” I shrug. “So, I'm just going to try and be like I always am with you. Except for the extra stuff, like kissing and holding your hand. I like that part.”

  He presses his lips to my temple. “I like that idea.”

  “And, I want to be as honest about what I'm thinking and feeling as you are.” I look down, unsure about even saying this out loud. “It's not easy for me. But, I like that about you.”

  “Tell me,” he soft breath tickling my ear coaxes me to keep spilling my thoughts.

  “I like it when you sing to the radio wherever we are, and you never look away or seem uncomfortable when I catch you staring me.” I tilt my head. “Maybe the last one’s a little creepy.”

  His eyes widen. “Hey!” He tickles me, and I try to squirm away. “You’re gonna end with creepy?” He tickles me some more.

  “No, no. I’ve got more.” I sit up and catch my breath.

  He waits quietly, a small smile lifts the corners of his lips, as his fingers find their way to my hair.

  I swallow and avoid a connection with his eyes. “You’re so uninhibited, you know. Like the way you told me how you felt that Sunday. And how you told me all the ways we’re already more than friends on the walk back to my house.” I snicker, “And the shed. Even tonight.” I glance at him, and he locks me in with his magnetic pull. I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to.

  He leans his forehead against mine. “I feel like me when I'm with you, and I want you to be you.”

  He’s so adorable, and really good at turning me into putty. I touch my lips to his and kiss him forever, or more like until we hear Tobi's truck pull up.

  The time alone was better than I expected, in every way. We don't try to hide our affection from Tobi anymore. Not long after they return, we load up the coolers and lock up. By eleven-fifteen. Lane decides we should head home. I change into the clothes I brought to wear after our ride, and we say our good-byes to Tobi and Rex.

  I curl up next to Lane as he drives, one hand wrapped around his arm, the other clasped with his. We talk and laugh about the day filled with Tobi's surprises, the flirty competition between her and Rex on the ride, the dinner party, Tobi's playlist, the décor of the barn, the amazing views ... and how we’re going to break the news to our parents tomorrow.

  There's a partial moon out and the stars are bright and in our favor. We pull into the drive and park in front of the shed. All the lights are off but the dim light over the kitchen sink left on for me.

  “So, after church at lunch it is.” Lane declares. Lane's leaving around three, so that gives my dad about two hours to rant and rave, and then Lane can walk away. Of course, I’ll be left behind.

  Lane gets out and reaches for me. I slide out, holding on to his hand and breath in the richness of the field corn in the air. We slowly stroll toward the house. I’m not ready for tonight to end.

  “Regan, I know you think I'm good at telling you what I'm thinking and how I feel, but ….”

  I reach my free hand to his arm and squeeze, holding on tight, leaning my head against him as we continue to stroll.

  “I'm scared of what tomorrow brings. Worried I might fail, that I won't be able to handle the classes and all the people … afraid of being away from home, from what I know ….” We stop and he turns to face me. “From you. I don't want tonight to end.” He chokes out trying to hide some of his emotion.

  I close the space between us. “Tonight's been the best night of my life.” My voice is a little rough, too, as tears sting at my eyes. I glide my arms up and around his shoulders and admit, “I don't want you to leave.”

  Lane’s fingers brush my cheeks, sliding into my hair, as he rests his forehead against mine.

  We hold each other tight as if one of us may slip away in the rushing river of emotions that is flowing between us.

  Touching his nose to mine, he says in his low, broken voice, “Kiss me.”

  For once in my life, instead of holding back and reserving myself in silence, instead of building my invisible wall of protection … I lose myself. I dive in with an urgency I've never felt before. At this moment, it feels as if every endearment, every gaze, every touch, every kiss could evaporate into the night air and be gone forever.

  Completely caught up in the taste of mint on his tongue and his hands in my hair, I feel my way across Lane’s shoulders, tracing his muscles over his shirt, and deepen our kiss. I want to thank him for one summer kiss that changed everything—for being more than my best friend. I want to hold on to him and never let go.

  Above the nocturnal orchestra of summer’s end and the breath of young love comes a piercing, and disturbing sound. A noise that catches breaths and stops hearts...the resounding gong of a peeved paternal presence clearing his throat.

  Thank you for embarking on the beginning of Regan’s journey with me. There’s so much more to come.

  Want to turn the page and find out what happens after Regan and Lane’s kiss gets interrupted? Read More Than A Kiss, book 2 of the Mor
e Than Best Friends series.

  Go back to the day Lane graduated and read Cameron. This novella is the first of the G5 mini-series and takes place on the day that changed the G5 forever. Cameron embraces the teen boy perspective using fun-loving Cameron Montgomery’s point of view.

  Love Sally’s books and want to learn more about her and her writing? Sign up for Sally’s Notes. (link http://eepurl.com/cQpKjL).

  Also by Sally Henson

  More Than Best Friend Series

  More Than a Kiss, book two

  Cameron, a More Than Best Friends novella

  Book Three coming soon.

  Story behind the Story

  Readers often ask me where the inspiration for Regan, Lane, and the G5 gang came from. Each character has qualities I wish I’d had as a teen and some I wish I didn’t.

  Though some things that take place in this book were things I might have done (for realsies—join Sally’s Notes to find out what they were), and were inspirational to the setting, the story and characters were created with my imagination.

  This group of friends are special—to each other and to me. I did have some great friends in high school, but nothing like the dynamics of the G5. Seriously, any boy would count themselves lucky and cursed at the same time to have three girls be their closest friends.

  One of the most frequent questions I get asked is, “Is Lane based on or inspired by a real person?” The answer is...Lane is totally the guy best friend that turned into more than best friends my teenage self WISH she’d had. He didn’t exist in real life for me. But that doesn’t mean there’s not Lanes or Camerons in the world. Or even Regans or Tobis or Haylees.

  How about you? Do you have a Lane or a G5 in your life?

  About the Author

  Sally Henson is the author of The More Than Best Friends Series. She grew up in the rural Midwest wandering through the woods and creeks of the countryside. That experience has been a tremendous influence on her writing, lending credibility to the voice of her characters. She combines ingredients of reality with a dreamer’s imagination to create sweet and delectable fiction.

  Follow Sally on Amazon and Book Bub.

  Find Sally on Instagram or Facebook.

  Thank You

  Thank you for reading this story. Your support is priceless and I’m grateful to have you on my team.

  To my critique group, The YA Chicks ... y’all have been an inspiration, a critical support network, and good friends. Thanks for all the love.

  To my editor, Kelsie Stelting, you understood and believed in my characters, this story, and me. We transformed this original story into it's lovely, swoon worthy state. I’m grateful to be able to work with you and call you a friend.

  Kristyn Pearson, your love of story, attention to detail, encouragement, and willingness to be an honest sounding board has helped me more than you realize. Not to mention your esteemed friendship.

  Anne Rose, Mariel Rutledge, Elisa Dane, Cindy Ray Hale all had eyes on the first story. Thank you.

  Mrs. Paige, your energy, and love for the written word had a huge impact on me. Teachers, please, do not underestimate your influence (good and bad) on your students. Even a tough nut like me.

  This journey would not have even started without the wisdom and counsel of Dr. Warren Chaney. Thank you for giving unselfishly, for compelling me to go through the refining process, and for our office meetings accompanied by a strong cup-of-joe. You’re a blessing.

  Mom and Dad, I am so grateful for the life you made possible for me, for my siblings. I didn’t give up, even through my doubt, because of the determination you instilled in me.

  A special thanks to my kids for believing in me and for your much needed feedback. You have my heart.

  I save the most important for last. Humbly, I give thanks to my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ for His grace and ongoing permission to write.