Page 83 of A Pizza My Heart

He plants his hands on either side of my knees, and I try hard to focus on how close he is to my exposed thighs.

“Is that why you said it? Because you think it’s what I want to hear? Did you just almost kill me over something you don’t even mean?”

No, I said it because I meant it—more than I’d like to admit.

When he said semi-autobiographical, I didn’t believe him. I was waiting for a punchline, a plot twist. Anything.

But it never came.

He meant it. The girl in his story? She was me.

And I liked the sound of it.

I shake my head violently. “No! I mean it.”

He gives me a disbelieving look.

“I do, Foster. I mean it. Your story…” I close my eyes for a brief second, gathering courage, then focus on him with all the seriousness I can muster so he knows I mean everything I’m about to spew at him. “While I’ve never thought of you as someone other than…well, just you, I can’t deny that something’s shifted since you came back. And it’s not just because of the stupid fake dating thing. There’s something else here. It could just be misplaced lust. It could be something else entirely. I don’t know. I just know I’m feelingsomething.”

He stares at me, skepticism evident.

I don’t blame him.I’mskeptical of this situation too.

He’s one of my best friends. He’s Foster, for crying out loud. We were never supposed to be anything but friends.

But I can’t help what I’m feeling, and he can’t help what he’s been feeling.

So…what are we going to do about it?

“Life’s too short, remember? We’re supposed to be living, not hiding. This is supposed to be us grabbing life by the balls.”

“God, Wren.” His lips pull into a smirk. “How many pairs of balls do you have in that bag of yours?”

I laugh. “Shut up. I’m being serious.”

We’re both still, the reality of this whole mess we’ve gotten ourselves into sinking in.

His green eyes roam over my face as he drinks in how much I mean the words I just spoke.

I do mean them. Something has changed. I don’t know if it means anything like what he might think it does, but I know it meanssomething.

And I’m open to finding out just what that is.

I shift under his scrutiny, and his eyes follow my movements, drifting toward my thighs.

Having his attention focused there…I can feel it in places I never thought I would.

“Foster?” I say, trying to get him to look away before I do something crazy like let my knees spread wider.

When his green eyes meet mine, I don’t hold back my gasp upon seeing the fire in them.

It’s burning hot.

“I believe you, Birdie.”

“You do?”

“I do. Now let’s get out of here.”

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