Chapter 12 #2
“We are. Just friends,” I clarified. I made a few more stitches, thinking that wasn’t entirely true. Or maybe it was. I didn’t know what to think anymore. “Actually…” I exhaled and looked at each of my friends. “I don’t know what we are.”
Olivia, who’d been my friend forever, set aside her project, grabbed her mug, and focused on me. “What’s going on, hon?”
“This all stays here?” I asked, trusting these girls implicitly, but I had to say it anyway.
“Of course,” Presley said.
Rowan nodded.
Everyone had stopped stitching, and Rowan helped herself to a donut.
“I’ve been in love with Kemp for years,” I confessed quietly.
“Really?” Olivia looked genuinely surprised. “I thought it was the other way around.”
“Kemp’s in love with Anna?” Presley asked her.
“You’ve been listening to Maeve for too long,” I said to Olivia.
Maeve had also been part of our circle forever and insisted regularly and emphatically that Kemp had feelings for me.
“He definitely cares a lot about you,” Olivia said.
“We’ve been friends since we were toddlers,” I reminded her. “I’ve known him longer than anyone. Of course we care about each other. We’re best friends.”
“But you’re in love with him?” Rowan said.
I blew out my breath, feeling shaky. “I’ve never told anyone that until now.”
“We’ve always thought it was the other way around,” Olivia said. “How do you know he doesn’t feel the same way?”
“I’m going to need another cocktail to talk about this,” I said.
Rowan jumped up and took my mug. “Anyone else?”
Presley finished the last sip of hers and handed her mug over.
“Give me five,” Rowan said as she hurried toward the kitchen. “I can hear you in there but not well.”
While she was gone, I explained to Presley, who’d only moved to town last year, how Kemp and I had lived in houses with catty-corner backyards.
“We had a tree house in our yard. It became our meeting spot. As little kids, we played in there all the time. From about sixth grade on, we used to sneak out of our houses after our parents went to bed and hang out in the tree house.”
“Doing what?” Olivia asked, her brows climbing upward and her tone suggestive.
“Talking. Just…hanging out.”
“That’s it?”
I nodded. “That’s it. We talked about everything. When Cassie died, he got me through it. Same when my parents split up. And when Ryder was such a mess. I don’t know how I would’ve made it through all of that without Kemp.”
“I never knew this,” Olivia said.
I shrugged. “I didn’t tell anyone. It was just between us. Everyone would’ve tried to make it more than it was.”
“Probably true,” Olivia said.
Rowan came back in with two steaming mugs and handed them to me and Presley. As she sat back down, she asked, “What happened to the tree house?”
“The people who bought our house tore it down,” I said. “It was probably a safety hazard by then, but I hated to see it go.”
“That’s sad,” Presley said.
“Drink up, Anna,” Olivia said. “You were about to tell us why you believe Kemp doesn’t think of you as more than a friend.”
I took several sips, appreciating the heat of it as I curled deeper into the armchair. “So back when I was in college…” I hesitated, wondering if I was really going to share this story.
“You can tell us,” Presley said. “We all have stories.”
“Nobody knows this one. It’s…embarrassing. But what the hell.” I tried to sound flippant. “I came home for a weekend, and the McNamaras had a party. Kemp was there, of course. We’d both been drinking a little, and late that night he walked me home.”
“I think I remember that party,” Olivia said. “Was it the night Jake Bergman challenged people to keg stands?”
“Yes,” I said. “And Anton passed out on the dock.”
“That sounds bad,” Rowan said.
“It could’ve been, but the guys carried him inside to a bed and let him sleep it off,” Olivia said. “Anyway, you and Kemp walked home…”
“We were busy catching up,” I said. “I snuck him into my house. We weren’t very drunk, just kind of buzzing by that point. It was dark and comfortable, and somehow at some point, we started kissing.”
Olivia gasped. “Who kissed who?”
“Pretty sure it was me,” I admitted. “We got carried away, and the next thing I know, we’re lying there with no clothes on, about to have sex. Like, he pulled a condom out and everything.”
“Was it your first time?” Olivia asked.
“It would’ve been,” I admitted, “but…he… I can’t believe I’m telling you this. He…lost his erection.”
“Oh, no,” Rowan said. “Poor guy.”
“That’s not what I was thinking,” I admitted. “I was mortified for my own sake. That’s how I know he wasn’t attracted to me.”
Olivia tilted her head. “Umm, are you sure that was the issue?”
I nodded. “I don’t know what else it would be.”
“Could’ve been the alcohol,” Rowan said.
“Or performance anxiety,” Presley suggested. “That’s a thing, isn’t it?”
“Pretty sure it is,” Olivia said. “And usually has nothing to do with whether he’s attracted to his partner.
I mean, look at you, hon,” she said to me.
“You’re gorgeous. Of course he was attracted to you.
Most guys we went to school with would’ve done anything to be with you. Half of them still would.”
I waved her off. “He apologized a dozen times, but I knew it was me.”
“How did you know it was you?” Olivia asked skeptically.
“I’d never done it before. I had no idea what I was doing.” My face heated again, and I shook my head. “I was so embarrassed.”