9. Chapter Nine #3
His face flashes with an oh-shit-I-got-caught kind of thing. "Yeah. They might. They asked me about you in Calgary, then they texted me last night. Checking on my shoulder after the road trip... And probably other things." He shrugs but his ears are turning red.
"And they just...um…guessed we hooked up?" My eyebrow is inching higher, doing a thing. A very skeptical thing.
"Aiden's annoyingly perceptive. I guess we haven’t been exactly subtle."
That's true. The hand-holding. The thigh contact. The way we kept looking at each other like we were two seconds away from making poor choices in a public place.
"Okay," I say slowly. "So, Aiden and Liam know. But maybe that's it? For now?"
"I'm not going to tell anyone else."
"Me neither. Well, except Paige and Lindy and Quinn definitely suspect something." I wince. "I showed up at the arena this morning in your clothes without a bra. So they definitely know. But I didn't confirm anything. I won't."
His eyes narrow slightly. He's going to walk into practice tomorrow surrounded by people who absolutely know. "So, we're keeping this between us. And Aiden and Liam who already know. And maybe Paige and Lindy and Quinn?"
"And Brett. Paige probably called Brett."
"Okay, so half the Stampede organization and my college roommate know." He runs a hand through his hair. "What else?"
"We should probably take it slow?" I suggest.
He looks at me. Really looks at me. Standing here, with his sweatshirt on my Murphy bed after holding his hand under a table through dinner. After barely making it through the day without combusting from wanting him.
"Slow," he repeats.
"Or... Not slow?" I'm floundering. My brain and my body are having two completely different conversations. "I don't know what the rules are here, Kevin."
"Me neither." His voice gets quieter. More honest. "I've never done this before."
"Had friends with benefits?"
"You're more than just any friend, Sarah." OMG, the way he says it makes a glitter bomb go off in the center of my chest. "And you're one I don't want to lose."
"We’re not going to lose our friendship." I say it not because I believe it, but because if I put it out into the universe, maybe it will be more likely to stay true.
"You don't know that." There's something vulnerable in his eyes that makes me simultaneously want to undress him and also wrap him in a blanket.
"I do know that." I step closer. Close enough to touch.
Close enough to smell his cologne and feel the heat coming off his body.
"Because even if this — whatever this is — doesn't work out, we're still us, right?
We're still Kevin and Sarah who co-parent a dog and text each other terrible memes at two a.m."
"Are we though?" His eyes are dark. Serious. "Because I can't unknow what you sound like when you come. I can't pretend my hands don't remember exactly where to touch you. That they don't want to touch you again. Right now."
Heat floods through me at his words. At the honesty in them. At the way he's looking at me, like the memories of last night could become reality again right now.
My voice comes out breathier than I intend. "So, what do we do?"
"I don't know." He’s staring, not wavering, clearly trying to memorize every detail. "But you should absolutely know I am not going to be able to keep my hands to myself when you're standing this close. So, if you want boundaries, you should probably stop looking at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you want me to kiss you."
I could lie. Could step back. Could be the responsible adult who thinks things through and makes good choices.
But then I’m a liar.
"I do want you to kiss me," I whisper.
He bites his top lip. Fighting it. "That's not a boundary, Sarah."
"I know." I close the space between us. "Could we take some time to think about it, to figure out boundaries tomorrow?"
His hands find my waist and pull me closer. "Tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow," I confirm. Then I'm on my toes and he's leaning down and we're kissing like we're making up for all the time we wasted pretending we were just friends.
His mouth is hot and demanding and locks on mine like a perfect match. His hands slide under my shirt and find bare skin. I gasp into his mouth and he swallows the sound.
We stumble backward. My back hits the wall next to my mattress. His body presses against mine and I can feel exactly how much he wants this.
I wonder if he can tell the same about me.
He pulls back just enough to look at me. His pupils are wide, like ink disappearing into the iris. His hair’s been haphazardly styled by my fingers. His lips are pout-worthy.
"You sure?"
I pull him back down for another kiss. Messy. But it’s honest. And that’s the best I can do right this second.
"Talk tomorrow," I say against his mouth. "Do this now."
He answers with a laugh, and that’s the perfect response.
It makes no sense — and we both know it — but that’s not something that’s getting solved in the next thirty seconds, and that’s about all the coherent thought either of us have left.
Future-Sarah can deal with setting boundaries. Tonight-Sarah simply wants to cross every single one.