by Kim Roshell
That gets his attention. He pierces me once more with his stare. “Like?”
Say it. “You.”
This agonizing admission is working out about as well as my ill-fated daydream. As if there wasn’t already a canyon separating us, Whit falls back one last step, air whooshing from his lungs as his back hits the wall.
“You’re scared of me?”
“No! More how I feel about you.” I clarify.
He blinks, stunned. Shakes his head. “Explain.”
Explain? Yeah, I can. Do I want to? That’s the real question. The explanation he’s asking for is precisely why I’m here, only now I’m not so sure saying the words will change this situation for the better. Not for him, anyway. Telling him how I feel may complicate more than clarify. That saying about letting sleeping dogs lie resonates for a reason.
All the same, I came with a purpose. Good, bad or indifferent, I need to do this. Fear, or no fear.
“Okay, this is harder than I thought it would be.” Hot tears burn my eyelids before I can even start. “I noticed you right away. I mean, look at you. Who wouldn’t be crushing the second you walk in? I was so done after you smiled at me. I’m surprised I didn’t faint on the spot, let alone managed to walk the campus next to you. Anyway, by the time I found even half a nerve to really approach you—”
“Ashley asked me out,” he finishes, eyes still trained on me.
“What could I do except back off? She was my best friend.”
His features soften a bit. “I didn’t know.”
“I know. I’m not blaming you. Her, either. I kept my distance, hoping neither of you would ever find out. Guess I sucked at that since Ashley admitted she wondered. She thought I got over it, though.” I shake my head. “I didn’t.”
“And then we kissed.”
“And then we kissed.”
God, am I grateful he gave us this privacy. I don’t know if I’d be able to pour out my soul in front of someone else. My lashes are growing wetter, which means this confession won’t end pretty.
“I thought closing you out of my life was doing the right thing, but I was so, so wrong. Not seeing you, not talking to you? I didn’t realize how much I looked forward to you in my life. Truthfully, these past months hurt almost as much as losing my family, and I . . . miss you. You wanna know why I’m here?” I ask, tears scalding my cheeks. With one last fortifying breath, I steel my spine. “I’m here because you’re here,” I admit, echoing his words from prom night. “I can’t be anywhere else.”
He sucks in a sharp breath, then hangs his head.
I soldier on whether he wants to hear or not. “I love you, Cowboy. I loved you Prom night, the night you saved me, the first time we kissed. Before.”
“You love me?”
“I probably always will. I should’ve told you sooner, but I was so hurt, I wouldn’t let myself see past the pain. My fear. I know you’ve moved on, which, I understand. I mean, it’s not like you could wait for me forever, right? But I’d like if we can still be friends, if Lori doesn’t mind.” I stop rambling, realizing he’s muttering something to himself. “Whit?”
In less than a blink, the canyon between us disappears. Intense waves of heat exude from his body, flipping the temperature once again. This time, I’m the one moving backward until my back meets the door.
Right where he wants me, I realize.
He follows, not stopping until I’m in close proximity with the rise and fall of his chest. Smell the faint scent of his cologne that I’ve missed so much. Can’t miss the spastic quiver of his Adam’s apple as he swallows. Hear his deep inhalation when he nuzzles my hair with his nose. Using two fingers, he tips my chin to nail me with his misty, warm gaze.
“You have five seconds to change your mind, Simone,” he warns in an ominous tone.
Change my mind?
“But, I—”
Five-seconds in Whit time is so much better than reality. I rise on my toes, happy to oblige as he absorbs the rest of my argument against his lips. Again, this moment is nothing like my dream.
This one is better.
Slower. Gentler than any other kiss we’ve shared. I swallow his groan, impatient as he takes his time mating our tongues, tasting my lips like he’s discovering a new flavor. I press closer, try to change the rhythm to match a speed closer to what I’m feeling, but Whit merely channels his fingers along my scalp and controls our pace, savoring the moment. I want to scream when he stops, but he makes up for it by trailing open-mouthed kisses along my jaw until he reaches my ear.
“There’s no Lori or any other girl. You have to know that.”
There isn’t? “Really?”
“Really, really,” he whispers. “I’m so in love with you, Honey Bee. Lauren never stood a chance.”
“She—who’s Lauren?”
“No one. There’s only you, Simone. Understand?”
I nod, unable to speak.
“Only thing that matters is I have a very beautiful girlfriend who owns my heart,” he states, bending his knees to look me straight on. “Right?”
Like he even has to ask.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
God is amazing. I’m nothing without Him, just like everyone else.
Hubby—I love you. I’d wax on poetically about you, but you left a huge pile of laundry on my side of the bed to fold.
Brat #1, you’re my favorite.
Brat #2, you’re my favorite.
Brat #3, you’re my favorite.
I mean it.
Dad—Always.
My siblings—I love every single one of you.
Roz—because I know you’ll read this.
Lela and Erin—thank you for making this whole thing fun.
Christina Rainer—this is what happens when you agree to be my beta reader. If I knew your middle name, I’d include that, too.
NIKKI—Truth, my Aunt Barbara and the desire to do something in my mom’s honor is, and will always be the inspiration for why the stories go from my head to the paper. But YOU’RE the reason others will know why I do it. I was perfectly content typing up my chaos with plans to share with my readership of one. Hubs says five words to you (my wife is a writer) and that same day, you became my biggest fan. It’s an absolute honor taking this journey with you, and I’m beyond awestruck by your phenomenal talents. I love you, chick. Thank you for pushing me to be better. I’m so excited to see what God does with your career.
Aurora Dream Press—A writer’s dream come true! A million thanks.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
When not working a day job, Kim Roshell enjoys fantasizing about the day when her whole house will stay clean for longer than an hour. When We Kissed is her debut novel.