Chapter 1 #2
My hands tremble as I grip my knees in an effort to steady myself. “What?” The word comes out strangled, barely a whisper.
“I know it sounds crazy,” she rushes on, misreading my shock for concern rather than what it really is—cold, hard devastation.
“But we’ve been talking about it all summer, and it just .
. . it feels right. You know I’ve never had a serious boyfriend, but things with Ethan are different. He’s really serious about me.”
“And you . . . you’re . . .” I can’t even finish the sentence but the thought rages in my head, Serious about him?
“I think I might be falling for him, Brandon. Like, really falling.”
Each word is a knife to my chest.
I grip the water bottle in my hands so tight the plastic crackles. She can’t be serious. She can’t possibly be thinking about transferring to another school and away from me after only three fucking months of seeing him.
“Come on,” I laugh, but it comes out strangled. “Tate, you can’t possibly leave. It’s only been three months,” I say, voicing my fear out loud.
“I know, but long distance is hard, and even though we’re only an hour apart, with classes and him starting his internship at his father’s company next semester, finding time to see him will be tough, and Ethan really wants me closer.”
He does, does he? Well, too fucking bad.
I nod like I get it, even though I don’t.
“But you’re going to wait until next year, right? I mean, classes have resumed everywhere. You can’t just transfer mid-semester.”
“True. But I can transfer this winter, once the semester wraps up.”
I gape at her, because she can’t possibly be serious.
“Tate . . .” I say, at a loss for words, begging and pleading with my eyes for her to laugh and poke me in the ribs and tell me this is one colossal fucking joke.
But she doesn’t.
Instead, she just sighs and looks at me, her eyes more purple than blue as they plead for understanding.
“What about me?” I ask, sounding as pathetic as I feel.
She reaches out and clasps my hand in her smaller one, bringing it to her chest where I can feel the soft thud of her heart.
“You’re my best friend in the whole world, Lambert.
Nothing will change that, which is why I need you to understand.
I need your blessing, because I can’t lose you or do this without your support. ”
“Lose me?” I choke out, sounding like a fucking parrot.
She nods. “Right now, I’m on the top of the world. I have my bestie, and now I have love, too. It’s everything I ever wanted.”
“I don’t know what to say,” I mutter.
“Say you’re happy for me.”
I’m fucking numb, that’s what I am.
I grunt; it’s the best I can do under the circumstances, and she cocks her head, staring at me in earnest. “It’s not as if we won’t still be friends. And we’ll only be sixty miles and a phone call apart.”
“Tell that to Edgar.”
“Ethan.” She sighs.
“Whatever,” I grumble as I glance away from her, trying to process everything she’s just told me.
“Come on, Brandon.” She squeezes my hand, lowering it to her lap and brushing her breasts with my knuckles in the process.
My heart fucking jumps.
“This was bound to happen eventually,” she adds.
I say nothing, throat bobbing as I stare straight ahead, trying not to think of how perfect her hand feels in mine.
The smooth texture of her skin, the weight of her palm and slender curl of her fingers around mine are all I can think of.
And I wonder how a touch can both heal me and wound me at the same time.
“What? You transferring to Michigan State?” I spit out.
“You know that’s not what I mean,” she says, her tone trite. “Neither of us has ever gotten serious about anyone, but you knew eventually one of us would, and then things would . . . shift.”
Did I? Did I fucking know? Because it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it.
The truth is, I never really thought about it—never really thought about either of us ending up with anyone else.
In my mind, we’d eternally be best friends.
Brandon and Tatum forever. A team. Unbreakable.
She’s always been my endgame, even if it’s taken me this long to admit it to myself.
So, the news that she’d always planned on things changing between us feels a lot like being blindsided.
“Say something,” Tatum urges, a crease forming between her brows.
“Are you sure about this?” What I really want to ask is if she’s sure about him.
She squeezes my hand in reassurance. “The truth is, I’ve wanted a serious boyfriend for so long.”
I release her hand to rub at the pinching sensation behind my bones. How could I not have known? How did I not see this sooner?
“You have?”
She nods. “I’ve been watching all your friends pair up.
My roommate is never around anymore because she’s always with her boyfriend.
My other suitemates are in pretty serious relationships now, too.
It just feels like I’m witnessing everyone around me fall in love, and .
. .” She gives a little shrug, her expression turning sheepish.
“I want that. I want someone to hold hands with. To cuddle with at the movies. To tell all my secrets to, both big and small. I want someone to gush about my day to, someone to lean on when I’m down.
And most of all, I want a man to look at me like I’m the most beautiful girl in the world.
Like he can’t fathom even a single day without me. ”
I do that—I do those things. That’s me, damn it! I’m your man, and I’m sitting right fucking here!
I clamp my mouth shut, nerves and heartache and anger mingling in a toxic combination to keep me silent.
Fuck, I’m an idiot.
“And you’re telling me he’s it?” I finally manage.
She purses her lips for a moment, her hesitation sparking hope inside my chest like flint striking steel—brief, bright, and dangerously eager to catch fire. Until the corners of her mouth hitch, and she says, “Yeah, I think maybe he is.”
Well, shit . . .
The silence stretches between us like a chasm as I dive in headfirst. My chest tightens until I can barely breathe, and I have to look away from her face—from those eyes that are shining with something I’ve never seen before. Something that isn’t for me.
“Brandon?” Her voice sounds distant, like she’s calling to me from across the building instead of right fucking here beside me. “Don’t worry about this now, okay? Let’s just focus on this semester.”
I nod, every muscle in my body tightening with the movement, unsure of what else to do.
“Anyway,” she says, her tone brightening. “What’s your news?”
My throat constricts as I force myself to meet her gaze. The words I’d rehearsed a hundred times on the drive over—the ones I longed to tell her—now taste like ash in my mouth.
How can I tell her I love her when she’s planning on leaving? When she’s clearly falling for someone else?
I stare at her expectant expression, her bright eyes waiting for me to share whatever earth-shattering revelation brought me to her door.
The cruel irony isn’t lost on me—she thinks her news might change us, when really, it’s just confirmed what I already know: That I’m hopelessly in love with my best friend, but all I’ll ever be to her is a buddy, a pal.
Just someone to pass the time with until the right one comes along.
“It’s nothing,” I lie, forcing a tight smile that feels like it might crack my face.
“Just some NFL scouts showing interest. Coach thinks I might have a shot at getting drafted if I keep my stats up.” Even though it’s not entirely a lie, it’s early days, and most certainly not the news I hoped to share with her tonight.
“Brandon!” Tatum’s eyes widen, and she punches my arm playfully. “Why didn’t you start with that from the beginning? Oh my god, that’s amazing!” she says, flinging herself into my arms.
I close my eyes, the earthy notes of vetiver and rose engulfing me as I slowly wrap my arms around her.
My stomach twists with want so fierce, it’s almost painful.
I pull her closer, memorizing this feeling—the warmth of her body against mine, the softness of her hair brushing my cheek, the perfect way she fits in my arms.
“I’m so proud of you,” she whispers against my neck, her breath hot against my skin.
My fingers flex against her back, fighting the urge to tangle them in her hair and tilt her face to mine; to show her how I feel since I’m too much of a coward to tell her.
“Thanks,” I murmur, reluctantly releasing her when she pulls away. “It’s still early days.”
Her phone buzzes on the coffee table, Ethan’s name flashing across the screen. Of course.
I grind my teeth, trying my best not to snap when I say, “You should get that,” before standing abruptly.
I need to escape before I say something I’ll regret.
“What? Are you sure? It’s still early. We could hang out?” Her eyes search mine, concern creasing her brow.
“I’ve got an early practice tomorrow.” I back toward the door, hands shoved deep in my pockets so I can’t reach for her. “I should go.”
“Brandon, wait—” Tatum’s phone buzzes again, more insistent this time. Her eyes flick between me and the device, clearly torn between him and me.
“It’s fine.” I force another smile that feels like sandpaper against my teeth as I see myself out and spend five minutes pressed up against the frame, contemplating whether I should turn around and barge back inside.
“Fuck,” I mutter, turning to lightly rap my forehead against her door.
I stand there for a moment, eyes closed, listening for any sound that might indicate she’s coming after me. That she’s also standing on the other side of the wall, wondering what the fuck to do now.
But there’s nothing except the muffled sound of her voice as she answers his call, a reminder she doesn’t need me now, because she has him.