Page 74 of Just My Type of wrong guy

“Like, while I’m here,” I reply, turning him by the shoulders and pushing him toward the kitchen where the table is already set.

We walk as if nothing happened. And maybe it’s better this way, just thankful that things are always easy with him. Maybe it’s better to pretend I didn’t freeze when he pinned me to the desk. Pretend my body didn’t light up with his touch.

Maybe it’s better not to think.

Chapter Twenty-three - A.J.

Thursday, waiting for love, waiting for love

Thank the stars it's Friday

I'm burning like a fire gone wild on Saturday

Guess I won't be coming to church on Sunday

I'll be waiting for love, waiting for love

Waiting for Love – Avicii

We land in Boston a little over an hour after takeoff.

Alexandra lifts her head from my shoulder, and I pretend my heart doesn’t skip a beat at the excited smile on her face. It had been months of calm, easy friendship before our first real fight. And the fact that it happened because Alexandra got jealous?

It made me feel way better than I’d ever admit out loud. I smile back, and even though I loved seeing the anger and desire in her eyes yesterday, the best thing that could’ve happened to us was going back to normal.

So normal that, even after unbuckling our seatbelts, Alex rests her head on my shoulder again to wait until we can leave the plane.

The only problem with this so-called “back to normal” is staring at me from the plane window.

My reflection.

There’s a smile on my face – not a weak one. A dumb, giddy one. And the way I kiss the top of her head? Well, that’s not how a relieved friend acts after patching things up with another friend. That’s the kind of move a guy makes when he likes being around a girl. When he likes talking to her.

When he likes her.

And every now and then finds himself wondering what it’d be like to kiss her.

Yesterday, in that room, I slipped into the fantasy she painted when accusing me to be making out with Brittainy. But it wasn’t Brit with me, it was Alexandra. Not the massage therapist in a white uniform and construction worker hands, but the girl in oversized hoodies and a messy bun.

I wanted to hold her, kiss her, touch her. Not to turn it into a thing or make it a habit. Just to know if she tastes the way I’ve been imagining since the night of her show.

“Can’t wait to see everyone again,” Alex says, pulling me back to reality. “At the same time, I don’t know how it’s going to be, seeing everyone again.”

“We’re going to Guilherme’s house, Alexandra …”

“Yeah, but I don’t know if there’s gonna be some weird vibe now that…”

“You live with me?” I cut in, with a grin— and she shoots me a glare.

“They were always teasing us… and now…”

They are, in fact, giant idiots who’ve been talking crap about us nonstop.

“Don’t overthink. Everyone’s excited to see you.”

“Yeah, but there’s Dani…” she says, uneasy.

“Daniele’s going to love you,” I promise.

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