Chapter 1: Lucy

I wasn’t upset that he looked down my shirt.

I pretended I was, of course, but that wasn’t what I was upset about. The thing that was really bothering me was that I didn’t know what he was thinking after he did it.

Or what he thought of what he saw.

Not that it mattered.

It wouldn’t change anything regardless.

Or would it?

I took a deep breath and leaned against the wall outside my apartment.

The truth was, Aiden wasn’t the only person that had some explaining to do. I had totally lost the run of myself when I was washing his hair. I had actually felt- what? Attracted to him? Aroused?

Any idiot could see that he was a handsome guy, and I’d probably had an on again off again crush on him all through high school. But I’d never felt that thing in my stomach before. Not for him. Not for anyone.

It was an adult feeling, a sexual feeling, a buzzing in my nether regions kind of feeling. And there was no mistaking it. I mean, I’d felt sort of numb ever since my Mom died, so the fact that the feeling even registered made it impossible to ignore.

And sure, I was never happier than I was when I was in his company, but I’d never been that kind of happy before.

Giddy happy. Hot for him happy. Like shampooing his head wasn’t enough happy.

Which was so not okay.

And I was kind of pissed about it. I mean, why couldn’t I feel a twinge in my panties for someone else? Anyone else?! Why did I have to feel something for the one person that I could never be with?!

After all, nothing could ever happen, not like that. If anything did, I would lose my best friend in the whole world, and sex wasn’t worth jeopardizing my oldest friendship.

Besides, I doubted that sleeping with me had ever even crossed his mind. He wasn’t into me like that.

And he had a girlfriend for crying out loud, a girlfriend who was a model and could actually wear midriff tops without looking offensive. A girlfriend who was cheating on him.

I had to tell him. It was my duty as a friend. But now it would just look like I was telling him because I wanted to be with him instead.

Which I didn’t. Or rather, I couldn’t.

Plus, after he looked down my shirt, he basically teased me about it. It was no different than the way he teased me when he first found out I had to wear a bra in grade school.

I remember lifting my shirt and showing him my panda patterned sports bra and hoping for some sympathy. Instead, he said, “I’m so glad those aren’t my problem.” I’d bet anything that he felt exactly the same way when he saw my bra this time around.

And he was right. My boobs weren’t his problem, and I needed to stop obsessing about it before I made myself crazy, or worse, acted weird in front of him when nothing even happened.

I covered my forehead with my hand.

But what if he felt it, too? What if he felt his stomach drop like I had? What if he’d wondered how things might be different if we met now?

No, I was being ridiculous. Just cause I felt something didn’t mean he did. It was like high school all over again. Once a year, I’d catch him on a flirtatious day or think I saw something in his eye that wasn’t there, and then I’d stress myself silly wondering if something might come of it.

And every time, my pathetic period of teenage lust would end in devastation. Either he’d ask someone else to the dance, or he’d tell me he had a crush on someone else, or I’d hear a rumor that he got caught kissing Jenny Trimble under the bleachers… or Kaitlin Steger… or Emma Wilkins… or Megan Hatcher…

I never got mad though. I couldn’t. Because we were just friends. And after a while I learned it was stupid to even humor those feelings because they would never be reciprocated. I knew I couldn’t compete with any of the other girls, girls who were prettier and more popular than I was, girls with moms that could do their hair, buy them cute clothes, teach them how to act around boys, and show them how to apply makeup.

But I still won in the end because all those girls were temporary. There wasn’t a single girl from high school that Aiden dated or fooled around with that he still talked to. All this time later and I was still his number one girl.

Because we’d never crossed that line. It never got physical so it never got awkward, and since it never got awkward, we stayed friends.

Which is why he shouldn’t have looked down my shirt. And even if he got another concussion- god forbid- and thought he wanted to take things with me to another level, I would say no.

Because I was in it for the long haul with him, and letting things get physical would make me instantly dispensable. So I promised myself I would never forget how much it hurt to be that crushed teenager and decided not to waste another minute humoring romantic feelings for him.

He was a friend and nothing more, albeit a hot, funny, smart friend with great hair and lickable arms, but I would keep my hands to myself and not let my heart rule my head because that was a recipe for disaster.

And I’d had enough of that in my life.

What I needed was to keep putting myself out there and going on dates with an open mind, and eventually, I would find someone that gave me that sinking stomach feeling that wasn’t completely off limits.

And then I would live happily ever after with him and Aiden in my life.

I could still have everything. Time was on my side, and I could afford to spend it looking for someone, someone that made me feel as good as he did, someone I wouldn’t be so afraid of losing if things didn’t work out.

Cause god knows I’d lost enough.

I turned around and slipped the key in the lock. As soon as I walked in the apartment, the smell of gooey cheese and fresh dough hit me in the face. I inhaled deeply as I closed the door, wandering through my sitting area to the kitchen.

My eyes zoomed in on the pizza box like a hawk on a mouse and I went straight for it, lifting the lid slowly. I felt weak in the knees when I saw the gorgeous pie and opened the silverware drawer in front of me so I could drag a knife along the perforated edges.

I was surprised Fiona hadn’t already helped herself to a slice. Then again, she often preferred it cold and might’ve treated herself to a calzone or something.

I lifted the pizza to my mouth and took a big bite, closing my eyes while the salt exploded on my tongue, convinced that the rumors about pizza being addictive must be true. Then I grabbed a plate from the cupboard and slid my slice carefully onto it before closing the box tightly to seal in the warmth.

I knew I should sit down, but I figured it might look better when Fiona came out if I was pretending I’d just gotten home as opposed to having my feet up before I even thanked her. So I stayed put, leaning against the counter as I picked up the slice and took another big bite.

It was so good I wasn’t surprised when I heard myself moan.

Until I realized it wasn’t me.

It was coming from down the hall.