Page 39 of The Arrangement
I didn’t think. I jumped forward and caught him. Or rather, I tried to. Liam attempted to stop his fall by grabbing the railing, but I think maybe his hand slipped, so he was falling sideways when he crashed into my chest. My arms wrapped around him, and I staggered a few steps to stop myself from dropping under his sudden weight.
The second we stopped moving, nearly all of Liam’s weight was on me, and his arms were draped loosely across my shoulders while I held him about the waist. I blinked, and somehow, his lips were mere inches from mine. Most of his face was lost in the shadows, but I could see his wide eyes in the nearby lamplight. He exhaled, and a puff of white danced over my face as if he were trying to wrap me in a spell.
All the jitters and anxious energy I’d experienced in Music Hall came roaring back times a thousand. Then I’d felt the simple urge to take his hand, to thread our fingers together while we watched the performance. But now, wrapped up in all his intoxicating heat, smelling the soft, woodsy scent of his cologne, I wanted to kiss him.
Iachedto kiss him. To taste him. To hear the catch in his breathing as my lips touched his. To feel him soften and return the kiss.
I needed to kiss him and drown in this stolen moment.
Fuck, I was losing my mind. Pierce was right. I should have stayed far away from him. There was nothing worse in this world than falling for a straight man who could never return your feelings.
Clearing my throat, I snapped from my horrible thoughts and roughly shoved Liam to his feet.
“Shit. Um…sorry about that,” Liam said awkwardly. Every word he uttered sounded so damned pained.
“No-no problem. We’ve been standing out here too long. Muscles got stiff. Let’s get to the car and warm up.”
Not that I wanted to be in a closed space with Liam. However, it was a short drive to his town house and another relatively quick drive to my penthouse. Then I could drink in the privacy of my home until I forgot about whatever the fuck had just happened.
14
LIAM ROSE
Work was a welcome relief.It meant that I had something to focus my brain on rather than spend another day staring at the wall while reliving every second of my talk with Rome on Saturday.
Things…things felt different.
Not how I’d expected at all.
None of this was working out how I’d expected.
I’d thought I would be miserable every moment I was forced to be in Rome’s presence. It was supposed to be a living hell of hate, anger, and frustration.
Our first date had gotten off to a rough start, but everything had sort of unwound because I’d forgotten all the reasons that I was supposed to be hating him, and we’d fallen into our old routine of playing stupid games, eating junk food, and talking trash. It was as if we’d picked up where we’d left off.
As if we’d skipped that stupid kiss entirely and continued to be friends.
Except that kiss had happened, and I still didn’t know why. I didn’t know what had happened to him after that day. Did he have trouble in school? Did his parents put him on perpetual lockdown, doubting his every word for the rest of his life?
Why?
Why had he kissed me?
And did he want to kiss me now?
Fuck.Did I want to kiss him back?
My brain immediately skittered away from that dangerous question and went to cower in the corner like the giant ’fraidy cat I was.
But I couldn’t hide. For the first time in so fucking long, it felt like I was standing on this important, life-changing precipice. Bigger than the time I’d proposed to Fiona. Bigger than deciding where to go to college and what to major in.
Right now, if I were smart, there was a chance that I could have Rome Ashbridge as my friend again. Maybe we could never return to being best friends, but we could be friends. We could hang out on weekends and crack jokes. I’d even welcome his shitty dino jokes without too much bitching.
However, to get Rome as my friend, I knew we had to talk about that day. We’d gone on three dates and steered clear of the topic. I could feel the invisible tension that surrounded it like an electric fence buzzing a soft warning. If either of us got too close, we were going to have the shit shocked out of us.
It was only a matter of time. Somehow, the topic would sneak in, forcing us to talk about it. We needed to face it, preferably as calm, rational adults. Not something we were known for.
Yet, if we could do it on our terms when we were relaxed and comfortable, maybe we could talk about it without destroying the fragile bridge we’d built.
