Page 56 of The Publicity Stunt
“What kind of friends kiss for practice?” she goes on.
“How the hell am I supposed to know?” I yell back. “You’re my only friend!”
“Oh my God, you’re such an idiot.”
“Wait, you really did want me?”
“Yes,” April sighs defeatedly, running a hand over her face. “You just didn’t want me back.”
I don’t mean to. I really don’t. But as soon as she says those words, I laugh.
I fucking laugh.
“Are you fucking kidding me? I didn’t want you?” I laugh again. The words are in my throat. I want to say them. But I shouldn’t. I can’t.
I can’t.
I can’t.
I won’t.
I … am.
“I’ve wanted you for as long as I can remember. I’ve wanted you every time you spoke to me, every time you looked at me, every time you smiled at me.” I hold her hands against my chest. “Goddammit, April, I wanted you three years ago in that stupid diner as much as I want you right now. If not more.”
Her chest rises and falls. Slowly. Mulling over every single ounce of truth that just slipped out my mouth. “Why …” She shakes her head, tiny beads of water dripping down the bridge of her nose. “What … why didn’t you tell me then?”
“Me? I could ask you the same question!”
She scoffs. “Well, forgive me for assuming you have more than one functioning brain cell.”
Silence.
Her mouth twists into a scowl and she pushes past me, starting to head back toward the party.
But I grab her hand and pull her right fucking back. My fingers are wrapped around her wrists and I hold them below her chin. “I’m telling you now.”
I lean down carefully. Breathing and not breathing; hearts beating, and not. She’s so fucking close. Our mouths are inches apart.
“I am … telling you.” I nudge the side of her nose with mine. “Now.”
I can’t feel the cold wetness of the rain anymore. All I feel is April, everywhere, filling up my senses.
“God, of course, I wanted you, Chere. You’re everything to me. Everything. My favorite person, and currently a huge pain in my ass.”
She laughs.
“But you’re also my best fucking friend. I didn’t want to lose what we already had. Do you have any idea how hard it is to be near you and not want to kiss you?”
She tilts her head up and smiles.
“That’s not supposed to make you happy.”
“You want to kiss me?” she whispers.
I nod. “God, yes.”
The rain picks up and her voice comes out so soft, I have to lean in close to hear her. “Okay, so it’s settled, then,” she says.
