Page 73 of Crazy About Love (All About Love)

“I should’ve kept it on,” I say, trying to laugh it off, but my voice is sticky. He drops the half-folded blanket onto the couch, his jaw clenched. He’s upset, and has every right to be. I preach about being friends and how I don’t want to hurt him, but I keep doing it—and holding on to my heart as if it’s something precious, when in fact it’s probably some cold, moldy, dead thing. Something shatters inside me, in as many pieces as the mug in the sink, and I crumple in on myself, too ashamed to even look him in the eye anymore.

“Damn it,” I sniff, wiping under my nose with the heel of my hand. “I’m sorry. I’m…I’m just an absolute mess.”

“Yeah,” he says, and I scoff at his agreement. He steps over the belongings my banger burglar felt were too insignificant to take and leans against the sink next to me. “You know, just ’cause it’s gone doesn’t mean I’m going anywhere. With or without it, you’re kind of stuck with me.”

I know that. Of course I know that. Not because I’m deserving of him, but because he’s the best person I know.

“Can’t give me anything, I swear,” I say through my tears, my voice thick.

He smiles and taps me playfully on the hip. “You don’t have to be so upset about it. It didn’t exactly break the bank.”

“It was more than just a piece of jewelry, Alec,” I say, turning my head to face him. “And you know that.”

He leans down, so close that our noses almost touch. “I’ll get you a new one,” he teases, pretending to be annoyed. I shake my head, keeping a lock on his gorgeous green eyes.

“You know I’ll just lose that one too.”

The words come out as a joke, because when I said them, they were a joke. But once they’re out I realize how very true they are, and the playful smile drops from my face. How many more mistakes do I have to make before I lose absolutely everything?

“Hey,” he says, leaning in again. “It’s okay.”

I shake my head. “I’ve already messed up so many things between us, and this was the one thing I didn’t want to mess up because it was so perfect—the way you gave it to me and the way it made me feel.” I think back to that Christmas night at Grandma Carver’s. The hot chocolate and the lit tree. The weight of the box on my leg when he put it there. That arrogant and adorable look on his face. It was the first time in a long while that I’d felt some sort of hope for my future. Now look at me—just a few weeks later, and I’ve dashed it.

“We may not be anything more than friends,” I say, “but that doesn’t mean that I don’t feel awful about what’s happened between us.”

“You don’t have to feel awful about anything between us. We’re fine.”

I push away from him, his proximity muddling my ability to get out what I’m trying to say. “This isn’t about the damn necklace.”

And it’s not. The necklace is just on top of a few years’ worth of mistakes and regret and anger and sorrow and confusion.

“Then wha—”

“I kissed you.”

He closes his eyes briefly, his brows furrowed deep. “That was a long time ago, Theresa.”

“No…not so long ago. And we just tossed it aside and moved on, but I hate that we did that. I hate that you’re lumped in with all these random guys I don’t remember. Don’t you get it? Iruinedit. You get one chance,one,to have a first kiss with someone, and if it was going to happen with you, it should’ve happened differently. You are not like every other guy I was supposed to have ‘fun’ with. You’re my best friend, and that means something. So a kiss between us, two people who know each other and care about each other, should’ve been of epic proportions. It should’ve been—”

His hands find my waist, and the force of my back hitting the wall of the fridge shuts me the hell up. His eyes are smoke, embers, nowfireas they lock with mine. His confusion is gone. His playful, teasing nature…also gone, replaced with this rough and commanding man before me.

“We get a redo,” he says, his voice deep and husky and setting my body on fire.

“A redo?”

“One redo. For anything. If you want it, just say it.”

The air has left my lungs. I’ve tripped over the sun and the stars and I can’t see anything in front of me. My brain has collapsed in on itself, warping all the logic I’ve ever known, and so my body can only go on pure instinct. The toes on my tile, the knee against his leg, the fingertips on his elbows, the heart that beats out of my chest and into his, and the tongue behind my lips…they are all out of my control. All of them. Especially my tongue, because I shouldn’t say it, but I do anyway.

“Redo.”

He closes the gap between us slowly, deliberately, giving me the chance to take it back, but I don’t. His lips brush mine in a sweet, seductive, not-nearly-enough kiss that elicits a whimper from the back of my throat. I tip my head up, wanting more from him, but the more I push, the more he pulls back, keeping me at the slow, heated pace. My skin is on fire from his fingertips, his soft lips, his body grazing mine but not closing the minute gaps between our stomachs, our chests, our hips. With only our lips gently touching, I already feel as if I’m falling into him. We could be naked or clothed, in public or in a closet, and I’d never know. He’s erased time and space, and everything I believe about love and friendship is obliterated. My hands find the back of his neck, and I lift myself up on my tiptoes, wanting so much for him to keep taking me to this place of sweet oblivion, where none of my worries and heartache are welcome.

A low grunt passes between his lips, fueling the already burning fire we’ve started wherever we are. His soft blond locks tangle in my grip, and his body is a stone wall as I push against it, determined to get closer and closer until I’m sunk into him. He kisses my bottom lip, my top lip, my bottom lip again until he’s pulling it softly with his teeth. I’ve died and come back to life, still so unaware of where I am or who I am or what I’ve done; all I know is that this angel has given me the gift of the perfect kiss, and I can’t imagine what I could’ve done to be worthy of it.

He squeezes my hips, his fingers applying a little pressure to the small of my back. His lips brush mine again in soft, sweet kisses, bringing me gently back into the kitchen of my apartment, back into my body, and back to the realization of who I am and why I feel so broken. It’s so jarring that my head spins, and if he weren’t holding on to me I’d topple to the floor. And when I open my eyes and see that his are still shut, a tight panic grabs hold of my chest and digs its nails into my heart.

“Are things going to change?” I ask, my voice breathy and unstable. It’s unfair of me to ask, but I want to know I haven’t just made another mistake that will end up hurting us both.

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