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He was acting like all week he’d been waiting to see me to tell me just that. To tell me he didn’t regret it. The Brad I knew would never admit to kissing me—or better yet, say he didn’t regret it. Surely he didn’t see me the way I saw him?

The way I saw his every highlight. I was in love with everything about him; I had been for a long time now. He was the first guy I had a crush on and, as time went past, that crush never went away; it went from a crush, to lust, to yearning, and then to love.

I realized that as my feelings only grew stronger for him. Weeks, months, years—all had me wanting him more not less.

When he touched me, I loved it. When he looked at me, like I was special, I loved it. And for some reason, I didn’t know why, but he would make an extra special effort with me. He would always sit next to me at family dinners.

Often during the week I would binge-watch television shows in his room. Dad never seemed to mind. I would even sleep on Brad’s couch some nights after staying up late with him. Again, nobody questioned it. Because Brad and I had a friendship that had this underlying level of respect. Everyone saw our friendship and no one ever said it was unhealthy.

It was my feelings toward him that made it unhealthy. But I was a good actress. I could pretend to him that our friendship was only that to me: a friendship.

But for years it had been more. Well, more to me.

My eyes ran over him again as he stood in the doorway, watching me. Was he waiting for me to freak out after he said he didn’t regret it? Was he waiting for my reaction?

What I was about to do next would take courage and I was finding myself needing my courage more and more every day. But somehow—I didn’t know how—I did have courage. Over the years it must have grown and now I counted on it every day. And right now in this moment, I was counting on it to help me again.

“Do you want to come in?” I asked, suddenly feeling nervous. “I was about to order food.” Was that stepping over a line? He had just admitted he didn’t regret kissing me. But at the same time, I knew he wouldn’t take it further than a kiss. So inviting him in wouldn’t end terribly, would it?

“When did you last eat, cause there is barely anything left of you.” He didn’t hide his disapproval. His hand went from my face and ran down my side, stopping on my hip. “Wasn’t planning on staying, sweetheart. Just wanted to see you.”

He stepped forward and kissed my forehead. I knew then I wasn’t letting him go. Even if it wasn’t the right thing to do.

My hands gripped his vest. “Come in.” I looked up at him. “Please?” I would beg if I had to. Suddenly a night alone wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted to be with Brad. I knew he didn’t love me like I did. But still, his friendship, well,that was something that was making me have courage.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I’ll behave, I promise.”

“Sweetheart, I’m the one who can’t behave.” His hand moved slightly on my hip and I saw him swallow sharply when his thumb touched my skin. “I should really go.”

He was saying that with regret on his face. I was going to have to use that to my advantage. If he didn’t want to go then that meant there was a part of him that wanted to stay here with me. In a private hotel room, so far away from the eyes that watched us every day.

“Or you could stay? Make sure I eat?” I went up on my toes, “Come on, Brad. I’ll be on my best behavior.”

My best behavior? Wasn’t sure if I could do that but I would try if that meant he stayed.

He was thinking about it. I smiled. And then before he made up his mind, I took his other hand and slowly pulled him in. I felt like a black widow spider pulling her prey into her web. He groaned, “Can you at least put more clothes on?”

I smiled. He said that like me in shorts and a singlet was killing him. He lifted our linked hands up and then kissed the back of my hand.

“So, do you want anything to eat?” I asked, slightly breathless by how sweet that was. He kissed my hand like I was special. Special to him.

His brown eyes locked with mine. And I saw he was keeping something from me. An emotion. Whatever it was he was making sure I didn’t see it.

My eyes ran over the vice president patch over his heart. That meant he was loyal to Dad. Brad wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that. I was young. I was the Reaper’s daughter. No sane man would come near me.

Plus I had cancer. I wouldn’t leave a trail of people grieving me behind. So I unlinked our hands.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, taking my withdrawal as a sign I didn’t want him touching me. Which was the opposite.

“Nothing.” I gave him a smile. It was a fake smile but I was giving fake smiles out a lot now. “Food. Do you want some?”

“Nah, I’ll just be happy to see you eat.”

With him looking like that, it was making me hungry but not for food. I swallowed sharply, ripping my eyes off his toned body. I swear he lived to get his body at best performance. He and Dad always spotted each other in the gym on the weights.

I was rarely in the gym because I hated exercise. But I would make up excuses to go see Dad when he worked out because Brad would be there with no top on, showing off his tattooed body.

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