Chapter 37
THIRTY-SEVEN
REID
I let her get out of my car without saying anything. I lost the ability to speak when she knocked the wind out of me.
I’m trying to form words that can explain how I’m feeling, but I can’t. I am at a crossroads. I love her as a friend. I do, but maybe also more than that. I just don’t want to lean fully in that direction.
Should I have kissed her back? Should I have made a move earlier?
I was so scared she didn’t feel the same way and that I’d lose her.
But now I’m second-guessing everything. Every smirk in my direction.
How she looked at me after rejecting the shirtless guy.
She always brings me my favorite drink at work.
Our long texts through the days and nights about random topics.
I’ll let her cool off this evening, but I want to talk to her tomorrow. We can’t let this end us. We have to talk. About everything.
I can’t sleep. I am lying in my bed, rewinding the events in my head over and over again.
I felt her hand on my back and didn’t think anything of it.
We were dancing, and the crowd was getting rowdy.
I thought she was trying not to stray too far away from me, plus I loved the feeling of having her close.
Then she kissed me on the cheek, and I was so surprised.
I almost didn’t think it was her. I turned and saw her leaning in for more.
I reacted instinctually, backing away because my friend was trying to kiss me.
God, I’m so stupid. I am an asshole. The look on her face made me want to crawl into the nearest hole and live there for the rest of my days.
I hated that my reaction made her feel that way. But I was so confused. I still am.
I need a snack. I need to do something instead of lying here.
I don’t know why, but I want a bean and cheese burrito.
Something warm and cheesy will be sure to comfort the turmoil I’m experiencing.
If only I could find the can opener. I swear I had one.
I open every drawer in my tiny kitchen and I can’t find it.
Maybe it’s in a different drawer. I start searching my house, looking for a can opener.
It’s not until I reach the small drawer at the table by the front door that a little velvet pouch catches my eye. The necklace.
Her necklace.
I grab it and collapse on the couch, clutching it to my chest. Every feeling I ignored rushes out of me at once.
I love her. She’s the one. She always has been.
No matter how many times we push each other away, we always make our way back to each other.
She’ll always be the one for me. I can’t hold back my tears as I press the pouch to my chest. I only cry when I lose her.
No one has ever made me feel as comforted as she does.
She feels like home. She is my home. I want to spend the rest of my life with her.