Page 98 of Just Friends Forever
She cocks a brow. “Oh yeah?” Her gaze drops to my lips and turns mischievous.
My mouth pulls up at the side in a half-smile. “Yeah.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
The provocation is so blatant, I can’t be blamed for taking up the challenge. I gently move her from my lap, stand up, and shake out my arms while she watches in confusion.
Then I take her in my arms and show her just how thorough I am.
“Sheesh, Troy,” she says breathlessly when we pull apart. “You triedtellingme we should be together when we were eighteen. Did it never cross your mind to try another method? I’m positive kissing me like that would have knocked off the friend goggles.”
“Or ended in a lawsuit,” I say.
She laughs, and her gaze softens. “Thank you.”
“For what? Kissing you thoroughly? You know, I’m pretty sure that wasn’t my best work, but I’m willing to try again.”
“I’m counting on it.” Her amusement gives way again to a more intent expression. “Thank you for waiting for me.”
I meet her gaze, thinking on all the years I’d lost hope. As many times as I imagined kissing Stevie or hearing her say she wanted more, I never believed it would really happen. “I fought it hard, Stevie. Really hard. But I’d do it all over again.” I run my thumb along her cheek, marveling that I’m allowed to do this sort of stuff now. I don’t have to imagine what it feels like anymore, and it’ll take a while to get used to that.
I press my forehead to hers. “I think my soul was made to love yours,” I say softly.
She wraps her arms around me more tightly. “I know exactly what you mean. Nothing has ever felt as right as this feels.”
We stay like that, quiet, together, taking each other in, until our breathing slows and lying on the grass starts to look tempting.
“Should we go home?” I ask.
She nods, slips her hand into mine, and we head for the car. I can’t bring myself to let her hand go, and my awkward attempts to put the key in the ignition with my free left hand make her laugh. Instead of letting go, though, she helps me, just as awkwardly, withherfree hand. The fact that she doesn’t want to let go, either, has my heart smiling in a way it never has.
When we near the house, there are five or six paparazzi hanging out on the sidewalk. I’ve accepted that my street has become the “it” place in LA County for paparazzi networking. It’s a physical representation of LinkedIn for celebrity stalkers. They’re all chatting, and it looks like one just bought everyone coffee.
“Hold on a second,” Stevie says. “Slow down a bit.”
I furrow my brow but obediently put on the brakes until we’re creeping right where I’d normally speed up. The paparazzi scramble to set down their coffees, taking up their cameras and pointing them at us. Flashes fill the dark, and I understand why celebrities wear sunglasses at all hours of day.
Stevie rolls down her window and sticks her head out. “I LOVE TROY SHEPPARD!”
My eyebrows shoot up as she shouts it again, as loud as she can, like some drunken bridesmaid out of the bachelorette party limo.
She rolls up the window, a huge grin on her face as I pull into the driveway.
I say nothing, putting the car in park with my left hand. Then I turn to her. “Um, wow.”
She smiles even bigger, then leans toward me and touches a hand to my head, which feels like sandpaper now. “I still can’t believe you shaved off your hair for me.”
“That hair is the only reason I have you in my life. It was sacrificed in a good cause.”
She leans in closer until our lips brush. “The best cause.”
EPILOGUE
STEVIE
“Congratulations, Miss Jacobs,”says the seller’s agent, holding a keyring out to me.
“Thank you.” I take the keys and make a fist around the cold metal. They’re so small, but at the same time so huge for me.
