By His Play

18. Kieran

18

KIERAN

I sit on the couch with Effie as another of hers and Grams’ favorite movies plays on the TV before us.

She’s lying across the cushions with her head in my lap. She hasn’t said anything or moved for the longest time; if she weren’t so tense, I’d think she’s fallen asleep.

But I know it’s not the case. As much as I wish she’d relax, she can’t.

She offered for her parents to come over, said she’d cook for them, but they refused, making the excuse that they’d be tired after their trip and would rather stay at the hotel. Alone.

Although it was to be expected, their words still hurt.

Honestly, I would be shocked if they turned up here. We already know they’re flying out again tomorrow night. Mr. Campbell’s meetings are just too important to put off for more than a day, apparently.

How Grams managed to end up with such a selfish prick like him is beyond me. Both her and her late husband were such wonderful people; they deserved so much more from their only son.

Reaching out, I gently pull a lock of Effie’s hair from her face and tuck it behind her ear.

I’m not surprised when my knuckle runs through tear tracks.

I don’t say anything. There is nothing to say.

Nothing can make any of this better.

She snuggles against me, and I continue stroking her hair softly.

Closing my eyes, I rest my head back against the couch, and instantly, my mind goes back there.

To the dressing room.

Fuck.

I was seconds away from doing it.

I was going to kiss her.

Effie has been my best friend for over a decade, but I’ve never felt that magnetic pull toward her before.

Hell, I’ve never felt that pull toward anyone before.

Certainly not the jersey chaser working in the store.

I wasn’t lying when I told Effie that she was nothing.

I humored her, sure. But only because I have to.

Watching Effie’s reaction though...that was fucking priceless.

She’s been my wingwoman more times than I can count. But she has never before shown any true jealousy.

It was…incredible. Terrifying. Confusing. But incredible.

It messed with my head. That’s the only reason I can come up with for why I nearly lost my mind.

I can’t kiss her.

She’s my best friend.

My ride or die.

The one genuine person I know I can always count on to be there for me.

I can’t ruin that. I would never forgive myself.

But that doesn’t stop the tingles from racing up my arm every time I touch her, or halt my mind from running away with itself and trying to imagine what it would have been like to close those final few inches between us yesterday.

It was the dress , a little voice says.

It was a good thing she didn’t buy it. I wouldn’t have gotten through tomorrow if she wore that.

It might have looked killer on her, but it would have been a disaster.

She shifts on my lap, and my nostrils flare when she slides her head back a little and places her hand on my thigh, squeezing gently.

She says nothing, but I feel her gratitude through her touch. That and a few other things that I shouldn’t.

This is wrong.

So incredibly wrong.

She’s hurting. Suffering. Grieving. And here I am, thinking of things that I’m sure are the furthest from her mind right now—especially involving me.

Forcing my attention back to the movie, I try to forget the lingering memories.

Eventually, Effie’s breathing does even out and her body relaxes into the couch as she drifts off.

All I can hope is that it provides her some escape from the pain and thoughts of what tomorrow will bring.

Once I’m confident that she’s in a deep sleep, I shift beneath her and lift her into my arms as smoothly as I can.

I carry her to her room and lay her down in bed before returning to the living room to tidy up and turn everything off.

I have every intention of slipping down the hallway to my own room. The last thing I need while my head is cluttered with thoughts of what-ifs is to lie beside her.

But instead of walking to my room, my legs force me to stop when I get to her doorway.

She’s lying on her side with one hand tucked under her cheek. The other arm is stretched out like she’s searching for something.

It only takes two seconds to discover what—or who—she’s looking for.

“Kieran,” she whispers, wiggling her fingers as if I’ll suddenly appear beside her.

My chest tightens as if someone has wrapped a rubber band around it.

She shifts into the middle of the bed, still searching, and I cave.

Her eyes never open. I don’t think she’s awake, and if anything, that makes it worse.

Even in her slumber, she needs me.

With my heart slamming against my ribs, I drag my hoodie over my head and then step up to the bed.

She’s asleep; what’s the worst that can happen?

No sooner has my body hit the mattress than she wraps herself around me like a koala.

Her head rests on my shoulder, her arm wraps around my waist, and her leg hitches up on my thigh.

It’s incredible.

Incredibly terrifying.

I lie there for hours, lost in my thoughts about my best friend, but at some point, my exhaustion claims me.

“ E ffie,” I moan as her warm, soft palm slides down my stomach, heading for the waistband of my sweats. “Oh god.”

My heart thunders as I fight to suck in the air I need.

We can’t do this. We can’t?—

“Fuck,” I grunt as her hand slides over the fabric of my sweats and my hard length.

It’s been aching for hours.

Lying here next to her, it’s been impossible to contain it.

Thoughts of her in that dress...how close we came to fucking up our friendship...how fucking insane her tits looked...

I grit my teeth, trying to fight against my body’s natural instinct to thrust into her touch.

It’s been so long since I’ve had any action.

My body craves it.

Her delicate fingers wrap around my shaft, and she strokes me again.

I’m fucking powerless but to give into my baser instincts.

My hips thrust forward, and a filthy groan spills from my lips.

So good.

She grips me tighter, and I shamelessly use her hand to get off.

I feel like a teenager again, but I don’t care.

It’s good. Too fucking good.

All too soon, my release is surging forward.

I want to be embarrassed, but I’m not. I’m burning too hot and soaring too close to orgasm to care.

“Shit,” I hiss when my release barrels into me.

My cock jerks violently in her hold as I come in my pants.

Fuck.

My breathing is erratic as I fight to come down from my high.

My sated body relaxes into the mattress, but it all changes when the warm body behind me suddenly tenses, and she pulls her hand away so fast, I startle.

My eyes fly open, and I stare at the ajar door of Effie’s bedroom.

That…that was a dream…right?

Just a dream.

Sucking in a deep breath, I turn over and risk looking at Effie.

She’s lying on her back with her hands over her face.

My heart lurches.

It wasn’t a dream.

Reaching down, I readjust myself and cringe.

Nope. Not a dream.

“Effie?” I whisper, not knowing what to say.

This isn’t a position I ever thought I’d find myself in.

Letting her hands fall away, she stares up at the ceiling.

“I need to start getting ready,” she says, quiet and hesitant.

“There’s time,” I assure her despite the fact I haven’t looked at a clock. We could be late, for all I know.

“No, there’s not. Everything today needs to be perfect.”

Before I can say anything else, she throws the covers back, jumps from the bed, and races from the room.

Mimicking her previous move, I cover my face with my hands and shout, “Motherfucker.”

With only one bathroom in the house, I have little choice but to wait for her to finish getting ready before I can properly clean up. Not ideal, but it’s sure a great reminder of how our day started.

By the time she emerges, I’ve already had two coffees and there are cinnamon buns in the oven.

We don’t need more. Some from the other day are still in a container, but I needed to do something.

“Buns will be seven minutes,” I tell her when she makes a beeline for the coffee machine without glancing in my direction.

“Effie, please can we?—”

“Don’t, Kieran,” she sighs, tipping her face to the ceiling and closing her eyes. “Can we just forget everything and focus on Grams today?”

“O-of course. That’s what I was going to say,” I lie as I push from the stool and walk closer.

This morning was an accident. A happy one, but an accident all the same.

Hell, maybe both of us were dreaming.

Neither of us meant to do that.

We were just being human—humans who have needs.

Stepping up beside her, I reach out and turn her to face me. Tucking my fingers under her chin, I force her to look up at me.

“Today will always be about Grams,” I promise her, my eyes searching hers to discover how she really feels about what happened.

Thank you, she mouths.

“You look beautiful, by the way,” I tell her, stepping back and holding her arms out. “Good choice.”

I smile as she blushes.

“I mean, it’s not quite the one I chose.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Go and get ready,” she instructs, tugging her hands from my grasp and lifting her mug from the machine.

“I’ll be right by your side today. Lean on me, okay?”

She nods but doesn’t look me in the eyes again.

The thought of her regretting this morning kills me. But I guess it’s to be expected.

I’m just her manwhore best friend.

She doesn’t think of me like that.

Just like I shouldn’t think of her…

Probably best not to tell her that this morning was one of the best things that’s ever happened to me.

Without saying another word, I walk out of the kitchen and directly to the bathroom.

“Fuck. Fuck,” I grunt, slamming my palms down on the tiled wall in frustration.

I’m fucking this up.

She needs me to be her friend right now.

Nothing more.

Just a friend.

Lifting my hands to my hair, I comb my fingers through, dragging the wet locks back until it hurts.

Just a friend, Kieran.

Be what she needs. Help put her back together, and then you can both return to Chicago and your lives, and things can continue as they’re meant to.