Page 58 of Paint the Town, Dove
We grazed the depths of hell to get here, and I couldn’t risk a selfish kiss, a rush of infatuation, a plume of lust. We were solid because of the everlasting loyalty, the boundaries we set in place. If something were to happen between us, those walls would come down and we’d be fucked.
I’d lose my everything.
Because I acted on what I shouldn’t have even considered.
Fuck it man, fill me with greed. I’m so goddamn selfish for this woman.
I pulled her by the belt loops so she was flush with my chest, allowing a lone finger to slip underneath the bottom of her top. “One last stop before my meeting.”
She pulled away, as if a lasso were wrapped around her hips, tugging her back. Her cheeks were red, I took pride in knowing I could do that to the one and only Scarlett Emory-Blake. But her barriers flew up, and I recognized the bars closing.
“You earned your reputation for a reason, Ry.” She rolled her eyes, but the hint of pink in her cheeks remained. “Let’s get bagels.”
I swallowed, laughing to myself in fucking pain.
Jesus Christ, Dove.
You’re so good at killing me.
Chapter Seventeen
Scarlett
“Light up the world like you left it, leave the world like you own it.”
Ryden’s just got this way –
This fuckingwayof pissing me off.
What’s new? I mean, honestly.
He practically flayed me dry with that little song, which by the way, he never ever showed me before. So, what was that about?Since when are we hiding things from each other? But also, you were close – so close to kissing me and you just stop? Why would you stop? Why would you even try? You know what this will do for us – why can’t you just let us be what we are?Platonic,platonicsoulmates. Just, friends.
Friends who want to hold each other in fear that we’d break.
Friends who want to hold each other to feel safe.
Friends… who just want to be held by each other, simply because –
(we’re not friends.)
But we’ll never admit to that, and we’llneveract on it so ta-ta. Ignorance is imagination, and that my friend, is bliss.
We stopped by a bagel cart just outside Timb’s, got one for him too because the crazy old fart is a hornet on strings. Love him, though. A catch if I were fifty years older and breathed classic rock.
“Your bagel order’s stupid weird,” Ryden said, taking a bite out of his standard, boring, sesame with chive cheese.
“Yeah, okay Mr. ‘I didn’t know what to get so I panicked and got the first pre-made on the menu’.”
He choked. “It’s a timeless bagel.”
“Tasteless, you mean.”
I bit into my blueberry bagel with strawberry cream cheese and a dash of red chili flakes, holding it out for him to try. He’s had it a million times.
“I’ve had it a million times,” he repeating my own thoughts.
See?Toddler tastebuds.
