Page 9 of One Hundred Lights
I wait for her to ask what I mean by that, but she doesn’t. Thank fuck, because I don’t know.
This isn’t fair of me, and I know it.
“What I mean is, we’re going to see each other all the time. You know, at school stuff. I think we can be friends.”
She flinches. “Friends?”
“Acquaintances?” This timeIflinch. “For Chelsea and Jackson’s sake.”
But it’s more than that.
I have a lot to make up for, because I messed up so many times.
With Chelsea.
With Reese.
With Britt.
That feeling I had at the airport? Everything changed when I realized the meaning behind her words. I still don’t understand the chaos that sprung up then and hasn’t left me alone since. I think I just miss her friendship. But that feeling hasn’t faded.
I can’t get Britt out of my head.
But I’m not my mother, or my father. I didn’t cheat on my wife, and I’m only here to be friends. I told Reese I had no feelings for Britt.
I take Britt’s hands in mine. She lets me, her eyes shining, and the connection sends little tingles through my fingers up my arms.
“Please. And honestly? You need to find a hundred boxes of lights.”
“Two weeks before Christmas.” She bites her bottom lip and I resist the urge to reach out and run my thumb along that same spot where her tooth is making an indentation in her skin.
“Exactly. You may need the help, both physically and mentally. You’ll need a strong constitution to visit that many stores.”
“Alright,” Britt says with a groan and half smile. “But I have to start in the morning. It’s a Wednesday. Don’t you have to work?”
I do, but I won’t. Not if I have a chance to spend the day with Britt. Suddenly, it’s the most important thing to me. Her hands are warm and I don’t move. I don’t want to scare her away.
“Nope. Took the day off.”
A soft smile crosses her face, a breathtaking improvement from her pained expression five minutes ago.
“Heard you’ve been at CrossFit.”
“Mmm-hmm. I started back a few weeks ago. You should too. Not sure how motivated I’ll be to keep going without you.”
She grins, then pulls her hands from mine, turning her palms up. “My lifting callouses are gone. I need to start working out again before I turn to mush.”
“Never.” The woman is far from mush, and I wish I could wrap my arms around her waist and pull her against me to prove my point. My eyes drift down over her body, and when I lift them back up, her cheeks are flushed.
She takes a step back, checking herself from what’s going on between us.
Oh, fuck.
Friends. Friends. Friends.
I chant it in my head, hoping that’ll help me keep myself in line. Friends don’t head-to-toe check each other out. Neither do acquaintances. My face grows warm.
“Tomorrow.” She swallows. “Pick me up at nine?”
