Page 23 of Your Two Lips
FINN
God,I wanted to kiss her. The emerald of her eyes was a deep ocean I could get lost in. Her complexion was pink from the ride in the fresh air, her pulse visible through the thin-skinned hollow of her neck. She was close and smelled like flowers. I wanted to lick that hollow, then up her neck. I wanted to remove the elastic from her honey-blonde hair and watch the silky strands fall across my fingers. I wanted to caress the delicate skin of her jaw and taste her lips, wet and waiting for me. The images assaulted me and my dreams for days.
I finally texted her the following Thursday, a week later, and we made plans to train again on Monday. She hadn’t come to the last couple of Saturday rides. Dan said she was training with Angela and Carrie. That was for the best. I needed space, or I was going to lose it.
Listening to her open up about her mom and school and her job, seeing the emptiness of loss in her eyes along with the joy of doing what she loved surprised me. I was having trouble remembering why I shouldn’t kiss the fuck out of her.
Emily owned her choices instead of making excuses. She’d hit walls, changed course, and was better for it. She had grit in a breath-stealing, beautiful package. This wasn’t how the rich women I knew acted, and it was messing with my head.
There had to be a catch. She went crabbing without a license or left empty milk cartons in the fridge, something. I just hadn’t seen it yet. I had to keep my distance, get through this race, and then it would be easier to avoid her and her tempting lips.
The Boathouse wasbusy for a Sunday. Dan and I finished an early game of pool and grabbed a burger at the bar.
“How’s it going with Emily?” He asked after Jake delivered our food.
“Good. You’ve seen her ride. We’ll be fine.”
“Not the race.”
I studied my fries, definitely not looking in the eyes of my best friend for the past twenty years. It was more important to choose the perfect fry each time until all that remained were the greasy, floppy ones, right?
“Come on Finn, it’s me. Not Tom or even Alex. You like her.”
“What’s not to like? She’s beautiful, fun, sexy on a bike.” Genuine. Brave. Unexpected.
“What are you gonna do about it?” Dan asked before his eyes locked on the door. I turned, following his gaze. Emily stood with Evan Larson.Heplayed the tourist game. What the hell? My blood was already heating.
They walked to a table, Evan’s hand sitting low on Emily’s back, signaling that she was his.
Hell. No. She was too good for him.
I stood up, scraping the stool across the rough wood floor.
“What are you doing?” Dan asked.
“I’m going over there.”
“And say what, exactly? She isn’t your girlfriend, is she?”
I scowled at Dan. What did he know about it?
“But you want her to be.”
He knew a lot, apparently. “God, I don’t know what I want.” I slumped back onto the stool. “She has money.”
“So?”
“So, I can’t do that again. There are nice, normal women out there with jobs and used cars. I’ve probably met a few. I’ll keep my eyes open for the next one.”
“Emily’s nice. She has a job. So, she has money. I haven’t seen her flashing it around,” Dan said, oh so casually.
“Remember my history with rich women?” I asked. “It’s not great.”
“I disagree.” What? I looked at Dan.
He held up a hand. “Katherine … she was not great. But that was her, not you. And Katherine is not all women, not even all rich women.”
“I missed the signs with her. How can I be sure I won’t miss something with Emily? The wealthy ones probably have a code or procedure they all follow when the wrong guy gets feelings.”
