Page 58 of It's Always Been You
I could have said stop at any moment, like he’d insisted, but no. Instead, my lips just stopped working. And my brain. Honestly, I think I went into shock.
So embarrassing.
Brandon sensed my discomfort almost right away and moved back to give me some space. He apologized, roughing his hands through his hair as he sat up, then pulled me up with him. I didn’t mean to, but I shifted away from him, avoiding eye contact like he was a total stranger. Honestly, he felt like a stranger. The whole situation didn’t feel real. He kept apologizing in frantic whispers, looking at me like he thought I might be upset. He wasn’t sure what to say, and that made two of us.
Hopping up, I used that same lame excuse he came up with about how Grandma might be waiting up for me.
Nodding, he stood, too, shooing my hands away as I reached for the popcorn bowls. Robotically, he grabbed the bowls, and I followed him to the kitchen, both of us as silent as if we were part of a funeral procession.
It was the strangest moment of my life. But I was also on cloud nine, plotting our next movie night rendezvous in the back of my mind. Next time, I won’t be so taken off guard, and I won’t act so . . . stupid. And awkward. Ugh! I ruined what could have been the best night of my life.
Figures.
Still avoiding eye contact, I grabbed my coat from the hook by the side door and shrugged it on. When I looked up to force out a stilted goodbye, Brandon was bent over the counter, his knuckles as white as the porcelain sink clutched firmly in his grip. His head was bowed like he was distressed about the situation.
I still don’t get why kissing me made him react like that—or why he even felt the need to deny wanting to kiss me in the first place. All I knew was that I couldn’t leave him like that. I also knew that if I didn’t offer him some semblance of reassurance, that kiss might have had the potential to ruin what was forming between us. So I ran toward him and wrapped him in a tight hug. He hesitated at first, but then his arms wound around me, pulling my ear flush against the wild beating of his heart.
“I’m sorry,” he breathed into my hair. “I got carried away. Are you upset?”
I rolled my eyes and said I’m the one who asked him to kiss me. It’s not like he forced himself on me.
“I know,” he sighed, holding me tighter. “But . . .”
“Shh,” I soothed. “It’s fine.”
He only shook his head, unconvinced.
“Brandon.” I tilted my head up and rested my chin against his sternum. “Best kiss I’ve ever had. Promise.”
He laughed once, then groaned, and I laughed, too.
And that was that.
That was our first kiss.
And I pray to God it won’t be our last.
Chapter 18
Brandon
AndhereIthoughtI understood women. I even had the audacity to believe I wasgreatwith women.
The Lord really has a way of humbling a person.
It turns out that when I can’t rely on oodles of flirtatious banter, a charming wink, or the occasional compliment, I am utterly useless. Completely disarmed. I have never felt more clueless in my entire life than I do attempting to navigate a working relationship with Evie. And I have already made a critical error—in my attempt at keeping things “professional,” I swung so far in the opposite direction of flirting that I ended up acting like a class-A jerk.
I even threatened tofireher at one point. Good grief, what is wrong with me? I can’t get over the way those big brown eyes widened before they fell to the ground. They haven’t looked directly into mine since. She’s reverted back to how she was with me before becoming my assistant—skeptical, closed off, petulant. Just as the clouds were beginning to part and reveal that fun, playful side of her that I adore...
I bow my head over my desk and massage my temples, at a total loss.Lord, help me. How do I fix this?In the silence, I get the keen sense that He’s telling me I can’t, that I’m doomed to love a woman who is intent on loathing me for the rest of my life—and that floors me.God, why won’t you help me fix this? You can do anything, so why not this? Why not help me reconcile with Evie?
A memory rushes back to me. Evie once confided that being a Christian “wasn’t all it’s cracked up to be” because God didn’t answer her prayer—at leastnot in the way she’d hoped. I explained that it doesn’t work like that—that God isn’t a genie who grants our every wish. Rather, He’s a Father who loves us beyond measure and knows what’s best for us—even when what’s best for us doesn’t make sense from our limited, earthly perspective. That was a hard pill for her to swallow.
It’s a hard pill to swallow for me, too, sometimes. Being a Christian doesn’t mean life gets easier. Oftentimes, it gets a whole lot more complicated. I learned that rather quickly, when I wanted to continue living in sin and had to fight the current like my life depended on it. But there’s beauty in the battle, too, because you’re not struggling in vain.
Still, it’s hard.
As I pray over the situation and focus on His presence, an unexplainable sense of peace settles over my shoulders like a warm cloak. His love feels like summer sunshine against my skin, even while I’m sitting in this drafty office in the dead of winter.
