Page 49 of V is for Valentine
Would they change for her?
“My sisters know.” The words seemed to explode in the silence that hung between them.
“Know…?”
“That we kissed.” She dusted off her hands, then wiped them on her jeans for good measure and reached again for the coffee mug.
“I see.” He rubbed his neck, then raised his gaze to hers, his hand still gripping the back of his neck. “What now?”
Her jaw shifted sideways. “At the risk of embarrassing myself by over-assuming, I’m going to simply say that I am not in a place to get serious about anyone.”
Her cheeks were faintly flushed, which was unusual.
“The final conclusion of a sleepless night?”
She shook her head. “I knew it going in, and it occurred to me that the best course of action is to simply lay things out so that we’re on the same page as you mentioned yesterday.” She sipped her coffee before adding, “You know. Communicate?”
“In the spirit of communication, what do you suggest from here on out?”
“That depends on what you want.”
What he wanted, she’d just told him he couldn’t have.
When he didn’t answer, she said, “I’ll be honest, Danny. I like kissing you. But I can’t risk having it lead to impossible expectations.”
“So you’re letting me down easy.”
Her cheeks went even pinker. How many times had he seen Felix blush? Was this perhaps the first?
“I’m trying to communicate,” she said through her teeth.
“You’re onboard for more kissing.”
She gave another casual shrug. “Could be, as long as we understand the parameters.”
“Thus suggesting that we continue as we are. Friends who are…friendly.”
“Perhaps.”
“You know that’s a problem.”
“Why?’
“Because you’re going to fall for me if we continue as we are.”
Her eyes jerked up to his, then the familiar “oh yeah?” expression spread across her face. “You are a narcissist,” she said, moving a step closer, as if he’d just dared her to do so.
“I’m realistic. And I’m not going to be scared off by a three-headed dog this time.”
“Danny, be warned. We willnotbecome a thing, no matter how often we kiss. Friends. Period.”
“That isn’t the message I get when we kiss.”
“I like kissing you. But I don’t want to mess up—”
“Your life?” he asked softly, noting the quick shift in her expression as if she realized messing up her life could only happen if she cared about him.
“Or yours,” she said, recovering with ease. The blush had faded from her cheeks and the light of challenge now shown in her eyes. “It’s a two-way street.”
