Chapter Twelve
Levi
I’m fuming.
As I follow behind Abby on our way back to our apartment building, I go over and over the conversation with her twin. I’m pretty sure that it was slightly exaggerated for my benefit–hey, I’m well aware of some of the Summer sisters’ tactics. But the thought of one man, let alone a whole slew of them, messaging Abby and wanting a date, makes me crazy. Like batshit, I want to punch something, crazy.
My mind is doing battle against itself. On one hand, I have no right to feel this way except to worry and protect her. On the other, I have every right because, dammit, she’s my girl.
But she’s not.
But she is.
At least she should be.
So maybe it’s time I do something about that. Fuck the boundaries of friendship. Fuck the worry of hurting her. Fuck the fear of living a life without her. Fuck it all…and maybe fuck her (no, not the bad way; the good way).
I feel something deep for my friend and maybe it’s time to figure out what in the hell that is. Sure, I’m terrified of screwing it up and losing her. But what if I don’t? What if that crazy ol’ woman is right and there’s something bigger and greater planned for her and I? Am I strong enough to deny both of us the opportunity to figure out what that is?
Hell no.
Time to form a plan. Time to put it in motion. Time to take my girl and show her why there’s a thin line between friends and lovers, because all I want to do is jump over that line and run straight to the lover part. I haven’t wanted anyone else in a long damn time. Too long, in fact. It’s been almost a year since I took a girl home from wherever for a night of fun between the sheets.
As I head towards our place, I realize my plan is simple: make her see that we have more chemistry than friendship. Should be easy, right? Of course not, but I’ve never shied away from a challenge. And if I’ve learned anything about my friend in the fifteen years I’ve known her, it’s that this will definitely be a challenge. Maybe my greatest one yet. The end result? Having Abby in my arms permanently? Being able to finally taste the lips I’ve been dreaming about? Taking that body of hers and making us both reach new heights of pleasure?
Fucking worth it.
* * *
I follow her up the stairs, my arms loaded down with the stuff from both of our vehicles, but my eyes are elsewhere. They’re positioned squarely on her firm ass. Do I care if she turns around and catches me? Not anymore. I hope she does, actually. I’m about to make it damn clear what my intentions are, even if it’s a slow declaration. Even I’m not stupid enough to jump off the building without a parachute.
We head to her apartment first. Her keys are already in her hand–another safety tip I taught her–and she opens the door wide for me. I set her pot and bag down on the counter before turning her way. “I’ll be right back,” I say, grabbing my own container and heading towards my apartment.
Throwing my stuff on the counter, I boot up my laptop. As soon as it’s up, I click on the app and send her a message. Since I had basically worked out what I wanted to say on the ride home, it didn’t take me long. I go ahead and click the button to ignore all of the requests and messages already sent to my profile before powering down. Grabbing the second, smaller container from the counter, I head back over to my friend’s place.
Not even knocking, I enter. She’s not in the kitchen or living room, so I hang back. Sure, my inner caveman wants me to storm to her bedroom, throw her down on the bed, and ravish her from head to toe for hours–days–on end. But I can’t let that prick out right now. Right now, I need the softer, sweeter Levi to come to take the lead.
“Sorry,” she says, walking out of the bathroom and pulling her hair back up into another high ponytail. For some reason, I’m glued to the long column of her neck. I’ve never really noticed before, but those damn ponytails do a hell of a lot more than just keep her hair out of her face. They reveal the sexy curve and arch of her shoulders and neck. My dick nods his approval at the thought of licking a line from her spine up to her hairline.
“You okay?” she asks, her green eyes full of worry.
“I’m great,” I tell her, clearing my throat. “Here.” I slide the small container across the counter and into her hands. She gives me a look before opening the lid.
“Are these all raspberry?” she whispers, her voice all dark and husky. I instantly think of sex.
Leaning forward, I whisper back, “They are.”
“We should eat them now.” I don’t miss that she leans forward just a bit.
“We should.”
“I’ll get the milk.”
“I’ll get the plates.”
“No plates,” she says as she glances over her shoulder, her hand stalled on the knob for the cabinet. “I like to get messy.”
And that’s when I practically come in my pants. Leaning forward until our faces are even closer, I return fire. “Oh, a dirty girl. I like that.”
Her eyes light up, her breathing hitches. I’m getting to her just as easily as she’s getting to me. It’s like we’re engaging in a game of cat and mouse, or as I like to call it, foreplay. And damn, I can’t wait to start really playing with my girl.
She doesn’t say a word as she heads over to the fridge and grabs the carton of milk. We both steal little glances at each other as we work in tandem in the small kitchen, each of us doing our part to prepare for our small snack. For me, I throw the crepes in the microwave to heat them up a bit. I’d prefer the oven to help keep them crispy, but time’s a wasting. Sure, I could probably just place them on my body somewhere since my blood is boiling, but we’re not to the “eating food off each other’s bodies” stage yet.
We head into her living room with a plate of crepes and two glasses of milk. Without even asking, she grabs her remote and turns on the History Channel. I have a thing for those car shows that transform old cars into badass hot rods, and I guess over the years, she’s just become accustomed to watching them with me.
“You can watch something else, if you want,” I suggest, settling on the floor between the couch and the coffee table.
“Like what?” she asks, taking her place beside me. Her knee touches my leg, and she makes no motion to move it. Like the true adolescent that I apparently am, I’m pretty sure I jizz in my pants.
“I don’t know. What do you want to watch? Pick anything.”
She thinks about it for a while before turning the channel. An old episode of The Brady Bunch is on, and there’s no missing the smile that graces her lush lips. “Excellent choice,” I tell her, pushing the plate of goodness in her direction.
She takes one in her hand, her mouth practically salivating, and turns towards me. “You know I was kidding about eating all of these, right? If I do, I’ll gain ten pounds.”
“Wouldn’t matter. You’d still be gorgeous,” I tell her, making sure to keep my eyes locked on hers.
A blush creeps up her cheeks and a shy smile slips onto her lips, making me do a mental fist pump. I watch, hypnotized, while she takes a small bite of her crepe. Her eyes flutter closed and that small smile turns to a much bigger one. “My God, these are so good.”
“I could watch you eat them all night,” I tell her, taking a bite of my own. “There’s no greater compliment to the chef than watching a beautiful woman enjoy your creation.”
Her eyes open and land on mine. There’s a bit of confusion blazing in her emerald eyes; I’m sure it has something to do with the fact that her best friend is practically hitting on her. There’s also excitement swirling around. I know she doesn’t date much, so I’m assuming she doesn’t hear compliments much either. That both thrills me and pisses me off since she deserves to hear nothing but high praise. Now, I just want to be the one saying them.
Crumbs of the flaky crust and a smudge of raspberry are smeared along her bottom lip. Twitch, twitch goes my dick in my pants, but I ignore the impatient bastard. Instead of humping her leg, I lean forward and swipe her lip with my thumb. Her eyes widen as she watches me, a burst of warm breath hitting my finger. Without breaking eye contact, I stick my thumb in my mouth and lick off the sweet fruit.
She shudders.
We’re both silent as we watch the show–well, I guess technically, I watch her–and eat our second dessert of the night. I’m very much aware of how close we are on the floor. In all honesty, we’ve probably sat this close a million times over the last decade and a half, but tonight, it feels different. It feels right.
I’m yawning by the time the clock hits nine-thirty, a gentle reminder that I didn’t get much sleep today after working all night. Part of me wants to ask her to snuggle up on the couch together, but I don’t want to push my luck. Though, I wouldn’t mind waking up with her tits as a pillow and her pussy all but plastered to my leg. Nope. Not gonna happen tonight, asshole. Remember that story of the jackrabbit and the turtle? I’m determined to be the damn turtle, even if my wayward cock is gunning for the starring role of jackrabbit.
“I’m beat. I’m gonna head out,” I tell her, unable to stop another yawn from slipping out.
“Okay,” she says, jumping up and grabbing the container of crepes. She follows me into the kitchen. I set both glasses in the sink, while she finds the lid. “Here.”
“No, those are yours,” I tell her, walking over to where she’s standing.
“Are you sure?”
“I made them for you.”
Several heartbeats of silence wash over us, our eyes eagerly searching the other. We’re this mix of confusion and need and anticipation. But do you know what I don’t see? What I don’t feel? Uncomfortable. Sure, there’s sudden feelings blended in that weren’t always there, but it doesn’t scare me or make me want to move to Taiwan like it might have a few months ago.
I step up close, invading her personal space, and grab the strand of hair hanging over her ear. “Promise me something, okay?” Her bright eyes don’t waiver as she nods her head. “Promise me that you won’t say yes to one of those dates until you really, really want to. Don’t just say yes to date. Say yes because it’s the only answer you can give. Say yes because it feels right. Can you do that?”
Again, she nods.
Leaning forward, I place a kiss on her forehead, just like I’ve done many times before. Only this time, I let my lips linger a little longer and soak in the feel of her skin, the scent of her hair.
“‘Night, Abs,” I whisper, glancing down and getting lost in those hypnotizing eyes.
“‘Night, Lee,” she croaks out, her voice very hoarse.
Using every bit of strength I possess, I turn and head towards the door. I’m not gonna glance back to see what kinda emotions are on her face, shining in her eyes. I’m not gonna do it.
But before I can close the door, separating us for the night, I turn towards her. I’m rewarded with the faintest smile on her lips that radiates joy and warmth. There’s also no missing the fact that her eyes are glued on my ass again. This time, I wait until she looks up, knowing that I caught her. Not giving her a chance to be embarrassed, I throw her a wink and walk out the door.
I head across the hall.
To my lonely apartment.
To dream about what my next step is in this plan.
A plan to get my girl.
My best friend.