Page 25 of Endless Anger
“I didn’t realize my friendship was such a burden.” I’m not sure why I say it—hate the way her eyes seem to dim with the accusation.
“Not a burden,” she replies, shaking her head. “A crutch. I don’t have to worry about anything, because I know you’re there.”
Throat burning, I look away, down at my lap. I don’t know what to say.
Use me. I don’t fucking mind.
“Hey,” she says, interrupting my thoughts as she leans in.
I shift, turning as she does, noting the way her eyelashes sweep over her cheeks.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Never been able to stop you before.”
“Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”
I cock an eyebrow. “Is that a question, Ms. Brontë?”
Lucy snorts, losing her balance. Her hand comes down on my thigh, gripping tight as she catches herself. “I’m a little drunk, I think.”
The breathwhooshesfrom my lungs, disappearing into the air around us. “It’s definitely possible.”
“Oh,” she says, tilting her chin down to stare at her hand. She flexes her fingers, and I suppress a full-body shiver. “You have really muscular thighs.”
I don’t—can’treply. I can barely hear anything she’s saying, my brain and nerve endings too focused on the contact. Even through my jeans, her touch feels like an open flame, threatening to swallow me whole.
“Do you… Could I try something?” Lucy asks softly.
Somehow, my tongue finds enough moisture to unstick from the roof of my mouth. “Is that your question?”
She nods.
Clearing my throat, I shift, straightening my spine as I try to subtlymove out from under her grip. She doesn’t seem to get the hint, scooting closer even as I inch away.
“S-stay still,” she bites out.
I want to make a quip about how that’s a rich command coming from her, considering the way she can’t seem to stop squeezing me, but then she’s moving in, and I forget how to speak at all.
Her mouth hovers dangerously close to mine. My heart lurches into my throat, expanding so I can barely breathe. I can’t think, certainly not enough to push her away or put a stop to this.
I should put a stop to it.
This isbad. A terrible idea, all things considered.
But I obey her single command and remain as still as a statue. She pushes up, using my leg as leverage, and pinches her eyes shut.
Mine are wide open the entire time.
Sweat lines my palms, but I keep them on the dirt, sure that I’ll fall if I move. I wouldn’t know what the hell to do with them anyway.
If I touch her now, I won’t be able to restrain myself.
“What are you?—”
When her mouth meets mine in the gentlest of kisses, I black out.
For several seconds, not one thought crosses my mind—it’s blank, my vision completely obscured, my brain paused as it tries to process my elation.
