Turning my gaze to her, I find her watching me tentatively. She wants my approval and that makes my heart clench and then soar. Hell yes, she's got my approval!
"This is beautiful, Harley." Tension visibly releases from her face. "I'm so proud of you. I wish I would've been here to see you get to this place in your life."
Her green eyes soften and her timid reply causes my heart to constrict again. "You're here now." She looks so innocent and sweet right now that I'm tempted to fall to my knees and confess my undying love for her.
I nod, afraid that if I speak I may say the wrong thing and undo all of the progress that we've made tonight. I don't want to push my luck. We made more headway tonight than I expected, and I really want to end the evening on a good note. We have tomorrow, or any day after that to get into the hard stuff.
"I'm really glad that you called me tonight," I finally tell her.
"Me too." A hesitant grin pulls at the corner of her mouth.
"I had a really great time, Harley."
"Me too." The grin tugs up a little bit more, revealing a shallow dimple in her right cheek. I have the urge to lean forward and kiss that dimple, but I restrain myself—barely. Her cheeks turn a soft pink and she casts her eyes downward.
I can't take it anymore. Reaching out, I pull her into my arms, startling us both. She reacts instantly, wrapping her arms around my shoulders, nuzzling her face in my neck. The faint scent of her vanilla shampoo draws me in, and I bury my face in her hair and hold on for dear life.
It doesn't take long for my body to recognize and appreciate our close proximity. Fuck. That's the last thing I need, her thinking I'm taking advantage of the situation. I shift slightly so she can't feel the bulge growing behind my zipper.
Damn, she's perfect. This is perfect. I'm not an idiot, and I realize instantly that right here, in my arms, is exactly where she needs to be—where I need her to be.
The thought of letting go of her terrifies me, but the idea that another man gets to hold her like this regularly terrifies me even more.
Screw it! I need to feel more of her...I need to hold her closer. In a slow, calculated move, I slide my hand up her spine and grasp the base of her neck, holding her against me, molding our bodies together. The move causes a shiver to run through her and I revel in the fact that I'm the one who caused it.
"I missed you so much," I murmur into her soft hair, my voice thick with emotion. She tightens her grip at my words and doesn't seem to think twice about her reply.
"I missed you too. So much." Her sweet breath feathers across my neck and her soft curves relax into me, eliciting an internal groan. We stand this way for several minutes, neither of us wanting to let go.
So many things are being said during our period of silence...so many emotions are being conveyed in our tight embrace. Pain. Regret. Acceptance. Relief. Comfort. Happiness.
Closing my eyes tightly, I fight to take it all in. I've held Harley several times throughout our lives, but this is different. We aren't just holding onto each other, we're letting go of the past, accepting the present, and opening ourselves up for the future. I just wish I knew what the future holds for us. Did I already miss my opportunity?
Her grip loosens. Her soft hands slide up my shoulders and she cradles my neck between her palms. Our bodies are still flush against each other, and the placement of her hands causes a level of intimacy that I hadn't expected. She lifts her face from my neck and I feel empty at the loss of her warm breath against my skin. Pulling my head from her hair, I rest my forehead against hers, trying to drag this out for a few more minutes. I've waited five years to hold her in my arms, and although I was hoping to be holding her as my girlfriend and not my friend, I'm still not ready to let her go.
Her head dips, our noses brush together lightly, and she takes a deep, shuddering breath. I can't explain it, but in that moment, something shifts. The air surrounding us feels warm and thick, causing me to lose my breath. Her once soft touch seems to be producing some sort of electricity that makes me want to push her away and pull her in closer, all at the same time. When she lets out a breath, the faint smell of Amaretto drifts across my face and I can't help but wish that we hadn’t had those drinks tonight. I need to know that every move on her part is completely intentional and not driven by alcohol-induced courage.
Fuck me. This woman is going to be the death of me.
It's hard enough to hold myself back after feeling her soft, warm body against mine, but when her mouth is this close to mine, it's nearly impossible. I need to pull back and break the connection. Our friendly, emotional hug is quickly turning into a not-so-innocent embrace that I need to stop before my heart digs in deeper than it already is...and before she does something that she'll regret.
Her sweet breath feels warmer against my face when she dips her head a bit more, causing her top lip to rest lightly against mine. I lift my eyes to her face, but her eyes are closed and her breathing is now shallow and ragged.
What is she doing?
What am I doing? I can't let this happen.
One name pops into my head. Max.
It takes every ounce of willpower I have to reach up and grip her wrists in my hands. I don't pull my head back quite yet—one thing at a time.
"We can't do this," I whisper softly against her mouth, screaming at myself to pull the fuck back.
She sucks in a breath and holds it as her body stiffens against mine. She releases her grip from my neck and steps back quickly like my words just slapped her. The look of surprise and embarrassment that flashes across her beautiful face is like a punch to the gut.
Why is she surprised?
She was about to kiss me...how did she expect me to react? She has a boyfriend, for Christ’s sake.
A battle ensues—my heart begging to pull her back to me, and my head telling me I did the right thing. Even though I’d like to tell my head to fuck off, I know what would happen if I allow her to kiss me. One of us is going to end up hurt and it’s going to be me.
She lifts a shaky hand to her mouth and rubs it lightly with her fingertips.
Maybe I made the wrong decision? I would never come in between a relationship, but fuck me, I would totally do it for a shot with Harley.
She stumbles back, her gaze bouncing around, landing on everything but my face. She sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, attempting to stop the quiver that I'd already noticed in her chin. My heart rate increases and a nervous feeling settles in the pit of my stomach as my mind searches for something to say.
What did I do? Why won't she look at me? I was doing the right thing. Right? We
can't go backward...we just can’t. I need her.
"I...I'm so sorry,” she whispers. I don't miss the cracking of her voice and my body reacts. I reach my hands out to her cautiously.
"Harley, please—” Before I can finish what I was going to say, she manages to unlock her front door and slip inside with one last ‘I'm so sorry’ before the door shuts in my face.
What the hell was that?
I stare at her front door for several minutes, trying to wrap my head around what just happened. It doesn't take long to come to the conclusion that I'm a fucking idiot. The woman I've thought about and dreamt about for the past five years was going to kiss me and I stopped her—I fucking stopped her.
I fight with myself momentarily. I consider pounding on her door until she opens it and then making her sit down and talk about what the hell just happened, but I know that's not what she needs right now. It's evident that she did not expect me to pull away, and that alone leaves me even more confused. Did she want me to kiss her?
I walk slowly to the end of her sidewalk and turn around in time to see her front porch light switch off. Something inside of me breaks, shattering into a million little pieces. Taking a deep breath, I turn around and head home. Right now, I need hot shower and a beer, and then I need to sit down and figure out how to fix whatever the hell I just messed up.
"HELL.
NO. HAVE YOU lost your freakin’ mind?" I shove my fork into my eggs and take a bite, staring at Quinn like she's crazy. Because she is.
She shakes her head and laughs, which pisses me off even more. "Don't laugh about this, Quinn. This isn't funny. It was embarrassing and humiliating and there is no way I can go out to din—"
"Maybe you're overreacting," she interrupts smoothly, shoving a bite of sausage in her mouth. "Maybe he was nervous. Maybe you came on too strong."
Me? Come on too strong? She's officially lost her damn mind.
"I did not come on too strong. He led me on!" I scoff. "He gave me every signal that he wanted it just as much as I did, and when I finally grew a pair of balls and made a move, he totally shut me down." I know I probably sound like a crazed lunatic and my words are flying out of my mouth faster than I can think them, but I'm genuinely upset about what happened last night.
"Okay. First of all," she says, waving her fork in the air, "don't ever say that again! Balls are not strong. Growing a set of balls will not make you stronger. Now, a vagina, that's strong. Take your vagina, for example. You pushed out a ten-pound baby without a lick of medicine. That," she shoves a bite in her mouth, "is a strong vagina. You’ve got like the superhero of all vaginas!" I'm at a loss for words. Quinn is known for her random rants, but this is way off-the-wall. I keep staring. What the hell do I say to that? She's right. My vagina freakin' rocks!
A deep cough sounds behind me and I turn around to see a woman about my age, slapping her husband on the back. Said husband is looking at Quinn and I with a horrified expression and an extremely red face. I can't help but smile when his obviously pregnant wife slides out of the booth, tosses some money on the table, and high-fives me on her way out of the diner.
I turn to Quinn and her eyes are wide with amusement. We both let out a snort of laughter before she continues. "Anyway," Quinn says, trying to catch her breath, "I still think you shouldn't cancel on him tonight."
It takes me a minute to remember what we were talking about and I shake my head, erasing all thoughts of strong vaginas. "Quinny, if you would have been there—if you would've seen what happened—you'd agree with me. There is no way I can have dinner with him tonight."
She pushes her empty plate to the edge of the table and picks up her cup of coffee. Leaning back in the booth, she pins me with her okay-convince-me eyes. "Tell me exactly what happened."
I tell her all about our conversation at the bar and the game we tried to play. I also disclose the small, emotional breakthrough we had, which ultimately led to our decision to leave the bar and walk home. Then, I give her a quick rundown of the random facts we shared on the way home.
"But it wasn't just what we said, Quinn. He found small ways to touch me or bump into me, and at one point he shocked the hell out of me by wrapping his arm around me and pulling me to his side."
"So? What's the big deal about wrapping his arm around you? How is that leading you on?"
"Well, if you'd stop interrupting me and let me finish, I might get to that part!" I snap. She snorts out a laugh and keeps smiling. Damn her.
"He didn't just pull me to his side. He pulled me to his side and then nuzzled my hair!" My voice is rising with each word, trying to get her to understand that I didn’t misread the situation.
"You're right," she nods, "that was a more intimate move. How did you react?"
The waitress brings back my sweet tea and I chug half the glass, needing my sugar fix this morning since I didn't sleep a wink last night. I take a deep breath and then let everything else fall out.
"I hesitated, for just a second. Then, I thought to myself, 'Why the hell not?' It's no secret I've lost all of my resolve with him. So I figured that if he wanted to take the initiative and get close to me, then I wasn't going to stop him...or myself." I wait for Quinn to respond but she doesn't. Instead, she raises her eyebrows, urging me to continue.
"When we got to my house, he told me he was proud of me and we sort of had an awkward moment. Then, he pulled me into a hug...but it wasn't just any hug, Quinn!"
"Of course it wasn't," she murmurs with a smirk.
"What the hell? What's that supposed to mean?" Now she's just pissing me off. My best friend, who is supposed to have my back, is finding this whole situation funny. It's not funny. I'm hurt and embarrassed, and I need her to tell me I'm not overreacting. I'm half tempted to get up and leave her ass here with the bill, but her face softens and she grabs my hand that is currently balled into a fist.
"I didn't mean anything by it. It's just...this is you and Ty. Harley and Tyson. We've always known this was going to happen. You two are destined to be together and it's finally happening. I'm just so happy for you, Harley." I glare at her, not wanting to respond in fear of giving myself false hope. "I'm going to call you guys ‘Har-son,’" she says, laughing at the name she created before she keeps going. "Ty-ley. Oh...Har-ty!" She thinks she's being funny. She slaps the table and laughs while I keep glaring.
"Sorry," she says, catching her breath and holding her hands up in surrender. "Sorry. I'm a little slap-happy. It was a long night and you got me out of bed way too early. Please continue. What happened next?"
"Well, now I don't even want to tell you." I'm dying to tell her, but I need her to take this seriously. This isn't a game, it's my heart!
"Oh good Lord, Harley, stop being childish and get on with it."
"Fine," I concede. "It wasn't just any hug, Quinn. God, I feel like an idiot saying this, but sparks flew. Like literally flew! As soon as my body touched his, it felt like we were meant to be together and we just...fit. I squeezed him tightly and buried my face in his neck, because the thought of being anywhere else scared the hell out of me. I didn't want to let him go." I swallow hard, pushing back the emotion that starts clawing its way up my throat at the memory of how that moment made me feel.
"I know he felt it. I know he did. Then—and here's the kicker—he buried his nose in my hair, and in a move so sensual and sweet, he moved his hand up my back and held the base of my neck. My neck, Quinn! You don't just run a hand along someone's spine and grip their neck if it's not meant in a romantic way. Right?"
"Right. I can see how you'd think that." She aimlessly stirs her coffee, seemingly unaffected by anything I've said.
"Am I totally off the mark here?"
"Nope," she says with a quick shake of her head, "keep going. Tell me the rest."
I run my hands over my face roughly, not wanting to relive the embarrassment I felt with Tyson's rejection. "I was elated that he did that. It was intimate and it made my entire body break out in goose bumps. Quinn, it felt amazing." I roll my eyes in exaggerated pleasure, causing her to chuckle. "I haven't felt like that in...I don't know how long. I didn't want it to end so I decided to take it a step further. I cupped his neck in my hands and pulled back a little bit. I wanted him to know that I was open to whatever was happening.
"I totally thought we were on the same page because he pulled back and rested his forehead against mine. It was so sweet and we just stood there, breathing the same air, soaking in the moment, and then..." Good Lord. And then I made a horrible mistake. A low groan rips from my throat and I bury my head in my hands. What the fuck did I do? It's not possible that I misread that whole situation. Right? I mean, realistically, I know that I've been out of the dating loop for quite some time, but come on!
"Then what happened?" Quinn asks.
"Then, apparently I made a huge mistake. I lowered my head—I was trying to go slow because I didn't want to rush the moment—but before I could go any further, he grabbed my wrists. At first I didn't realize what he was doing, but then he said..." I swipe away a tear that falls down my face. "He said 'we can't do this' and I froze, Quinn. He completely shut me down and it was like...it was like I was reliving that horrible night all over again." The tears become too heavy and start spilling over my lashes. I bat them away, looking up to find Quinn watching me. I can see it...she remembers what I went through af
ter he rejected me the first time.
"Harley." Her voice is low and raspy, and she slides out of her side of the booth and into mine. Quinn wraps her arms around my shoulders and holds me as silent sobs rip through my body.
Thank God we are sitting in the back where no one can see us. "Harley," she whispers into my hair. "I can't even imagine how that made you feel, but I want you to look at me." I sniff lightly, but my head remains down. I don't want to look at her. I don't want to feel this way. How could I put myself back in that situation? What was I thinking? "Look at me." At the sharp sound of her voice, I raise my eyes to her.
"Harley, I know it may have seemed bad at the time, and I hate that it took you back to that horrible night, but there has to be a different reason why he pulled away. Did you guys talk afterward? Did you ask him what was wrong?"
"No...no, I didn't." There is no way that I could have talked to him afterward. I was so embarrassed and mad, mainly at myself. Plus, would it have made a difference? Would he have given me an acceptable reason? "I freaked. I dashed through the front door and shut it in his face before he had the chance to say anything."
Now that I say it out loud, I feel sort of bad. Maybe I did overreact. "What do I do, Quinn? Now I feel like an idiot."
"Well, that's because you are," she quips, causing my sob to turn into a laugh. I pull back and Quinn dries my face with the pads of her thumbs. I vow to never take Quinn for granted; I couldn't ask for a better friend.
"I'm just kidding. You know that, right?" I nod once, taking a deep breath. It's time to put on my big-girl panties, pull my head out of my ass, and fix this mess. "But seriously, Harley, you need to talk to him. You need to find out why he stopped you, because I really don't think it's because he doesn't want you."
She's right. I know she is, but that doesn't change the fact that I feel like an idiot and having dinner with him tonight is going to be awkward as hell. "I hope you’re right."
"I am right, you just wait and see. So, does this mean you aren't going to cancel on him?"
Where We Belong Page 13