Chapter Eleven #3
Shaking off the thought, she lifted two tall white candles and carried them over to the breakfast bar, so they would have some light while they ate their food. She could bring them back into the living room again once they were done. This must have been what it was like to live in Victorian times.
“I have to say, I don’t hate this no electricity business,” Amy said as she took the seat across from Imogen. “The candlelit dinner is kind of nice.”
It was downright romantic, is what it was, but Imogen refrained from pointing that out. “I’m glad you approve.” She went to take a bite of her toastie, then realised she hadn’t got drinks. “Wine! Do you want wine? Or water? I might have some Coke Zero in the fridge?”
Amy froze. “Shit. I brought wine and left it in the car.”
Imogen laughed. “We’re a pair.”
Amy joined in. “We are, aren’t we?” She looked at Imogen affectionately. “I think we make a great pair.”
“You’re flirting again.”
“Am not.” Amy took a bite of her toastie, but the smile never left her face. After she chewed and swallowed, she said, “I was only stating a fact.”
“Hmm.” Imogen narrowed her eyes. “Well, you didn’t state what you would, in fact, like to drink.” Deflection was the best course of action.
Amy laughed again. “Whatever you’re having is fine with me. This toastie’s amazing by the way. Don’t judge me when I have it mauled in under two minutes.” She cemented her point by taking another bite.
“I would never. Maul away.” Imogen slid off her seat and pulled a bottle of red wine off her shelf, seeing as Amy had been planning on bringing some anyway. Besides, Imogen needed the Dutch courage.
She was nervous about being alone with Amy like this.
More nervous than she had been while they were actually dating because now she felt like she was in no man’s land.
They both were. Imogen was hyper aware of herself, overthinking everything she said and overanalysing every move she made.
She suspected it probably was the same for Amy too.
Like they were trying to figure each other out all over again.
It was weird, because the pressure should be off with them only being friends now, but tonight felt every bit as charged as all their previous dates had. Maybe even more so.
Holding in a sigh, Imogen pulled two glasses out of the cupboard and carried them over to the breakfast bar along with the wine. “You deserve a glass after the ordeal you went through to get here. I still can’t believe you did that. Thank you,” she said as she poured.
“You never have to thank me for wanting to see you, Imogen. It’s always going to be the case, so…
” Amy let the sentence hang, probably scared to say more because she didn’t know how Imogen would react.
Imogen hated that she had created this level of uncertainty because of her own damn hang-ups. Yet how could she shake them?
She took a seat again across the counter. “Do you always want to see your friends so badly that you brave all the elements to get to them?”
Amy grinned. “Some of them. Maybe.” She paused. “Probably not, no. But you’re a different type of friend.”
Imogen swallowed down her own bite of toastie.
“What type of friend am I?” She knew it was a dangerous question, but she went there anyway.
How could she not? Niamh had clearly been mistaken with all her talk about levels of who’s the most responsible and Imogen being the highest and blah, blah, blah—because in truth, Imogen’s resolve had begun to crumble the second Amy had walked through the front door of the pub tonight.
Would a responsible person picture herself ripping Amy’s wet clothes off?
Because she’d done that. So, maybe she didn’t want to be responsible.
Maybe, for once in her life, she wanted to stop thinking so much.
Amy took a sip of her wine and regarded her. “How honest do you want me to be?”
“Completely,” Imogen replied straight away. Fuck it. She’d asked now. It was out there.
“Okay then.” Amy set down her glass and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.
Never one to shy away from eye contact, she looked at Imogen intently.
“You’re a friend who I think about all the time.
I have since the day we met. You occupy my brain from the moment I wake up in the morning until the moment I fall asleep at night.
I probably dream about you too, though I’m not one of those people who remembers every detail of their dreams.” She took a breath.
“You’re a friend whose company I crave more than I crave chocolate.
And, Imogen, I fucking love chocolate. It’s to die for.
The Cadburys you have over here are insane. ”
Imogen laughed softly, her heart pounding harder with every word.
“You’re a friend who makes my chest ache with happiness every time I look at my phone and see you’ve sent me a message.
I halt my entire day just to read it. And when I don’t have a message, I reread old ones because it makes me feel closer to you.
You’re a friend who I look at, and the rest of the world fades away.
Because all that matters is your beautiful, warm eyes, your adorable range of smiles, and the way that you look at me.
Even now, after the terrible way I acted.
” Amy swallowed. “You’re a friend who I have zero interest in being just friends with, Imogen.
But I want to respect you and your feelings first and foremost, so here I am.
The girl who walks through a storm to see you, even if it’s only as a friend.
That’s what kind of friend you are to me. ”
Imogen wasn’t sure how she made it around the counter, but the next thing she knew her lips were on Amy’s, and her fingers were buried deep in Amy’s hair.
With her heart and her body on fire, she kissed Amy with a passion she didn’t even know she possessed.
How could Imogen not kiss her with everything she had after all the amazing things she had just said?
And Amy didn’t just accept the kiss, she met it with a fierce intensity of her own, giving back as good as she got—and then some.
She stood and dragged Imogen closer against her, like she couldn’t bear the distance between them anymore.
It wasn’t long until they were moving. Imogen was the instigator, guiding Amy backward toward the sofa. When they reached it, Amy lowered herself and dragged Imogen on top of her, barely breaking their kiss in the process.
They did slow it down a little, like they’d silently agreed to savour it—every touch, every kiss, every shift against each other.
Imogen wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that before Amy pulled away to trail soft, featherlike kisses down the sensitive skin of Imogen’s neck.
“I never thought I was going to get to do this again,” Amy whispered between kisses.
Imogen groaned as her body tingled at the contact.
“Me either.” She genuinely hadn’t intended for this to happen again, but how could she not do it?
Why would she not? She had serious feelings for this woman, and she was choosing to bury them.
Why? Because she was broken and scared exactly like Piper had said.
Was that really what Imogen wanted? To let someone from her past—someone who didn’t matter a damn anymore—sabotage her happiness for the rest of her life?
Because Amy? Amy made Imogen pretty fucking happy.
Amy’s mouth found hers once again and Imogen melted into another dizzying kiss. Amy’s lips had to be the softest on the planet she thought as they moved against hers like velvet. Her warm tongue gently slid against Imogen’s, and Imogen sighed, completely intoxicated by Amy’s sweet taste.
And then there was knocking. No, not knocking—pounding.
Someone was pounding on her apartment door.
With a groan of frustration, Imogen tore her lips away and pulled herself into a sitting position on top of Amy, who was looking up at her with hooded eyes.
God, she was sexy. “That’ll be Piper and Niamh,” she explained.
“They’re probably checking everything’s okay because of the electric.
” With quite possibly the worst timing in the history of humankind. Imogen was going to kill them later.
Amy licked her lips and nodded quickly. “Of course. Go talk to them.”
The door was pounded once again, and Imogen closed her eyes in annoyance. She exhaled sharply through her nose. “Okay. Wait here.” Reluctantly, she dragged herself off Amy’s warm body and headed toward the door. She yanked it open and poked her head out. “Hi. What’s up?”
Unsurprisingly, Piper and Niamh were both standing there holding their little torches. The sight would almost be funny if they hadn’t interrupted that moment. “We’re just checking on you.”
“Thanks. I’m all good.”
“Ooo, you made sandwiches,” Piper said, craning her neck to peek in.
“Uh-huh. And we were just eating them.”
“Really? Where’s Amelia?” Piper asked, trying to look past Imogen again. The main reason they’d come, no doubt.
“She’s right there in the living room,” Imogen replied in a hushed tone. “Look, do you guys need anything? Candles? Matches?”
“No, we’re good too. And we won’t keep you,” Niamh said quietly, reading the situation and gently pulling Piper back from the door. “We’ve just closed up downstairs. So, we’ll be right next door if you need us. Or if you want to tell us anything at all. At any time.”
“How is all the kissing going by the way?” Piper asked.
“What?” Imogen ran her fingers over her lips. “How do you know there’s kissing?”
Piper smiled. “I didn’t, but I do now.”
“Oh my God. Is there really kissing?” Niamh whispered excitedly.
Imogen shook her head at her own stupidity—she’d walked right into that one. “I’m going now, guys. I’ll talk to you both later.”
“Or tomorrow,” Piper said suggestively. “After all the kissing.” She then proceeded to make kissy noises. Apparently, she’d found her mojo again.