What the hell was that about?
Heading to the room at the end of the hallway, I fail for the third time to control my racing heart. Adrian and I have always been close, and very comfortable with each other. There have been countless times we’ve laid on each other’s laps, gotten changed in the same room, and hell, even slept in the same bed. And while all those occasions have been borderline torturous to both my heart and libido, never have we crossed the line into clear flirting.
I wouldn’t even call that flirting. Honestly, it was more like ripping our clothes off and finally giving in to a feeling we both have always wanted. Both. Plural. Not just me. For a moment, I felt crazy, like I was imagining him coming on to me, but then there was only validation.
There was no question there was a shift in the air. The tension was so thick, it was hard to breathe through it. The desire in his eyes was so undeniable, I could guarantee that if I kissed him, it would have finally led to something.
But I didn’t–I couldn’t–because somewhere deep down, I’m scared. Scared of foregoing his friendship and what we have. And nothing is worth losing that. Not even proving to myself it isn’t all in my head.
I unlock the door we use as a spare room. Willow and I pass out here occasionally when we work too late, or we happen to get too drunk after a long night of celebrating Adrian’s recent victory. The locals always convince us to play a game where we have a shot every time he scores or sip a drink when he knocks a guy on his ass.
Naturally, we always end up completely hammered.
Inside, I hop in the shower and change into some of the spare clothes we leave here. I ignore the fact that I grab a black lace bra and matching panties, then quickly get myself together before rushing downstairs.
Willow called and said she was slightly overwhelmed and needed the barbacks to start taking orders, which means I need to fill in for them. One thing I’ve learned is while I’m great at fixing average maintenance issues, I am the worst bartender alive.
Ninety percent of the drinks I make will either have you drunk on the first sip or wondering if there is any alcohol in it at all.
When I make it back downstairs, I’m much calmer. My mind is finally clear of the fog and I’m able to focus on the massive amount of bodies in the pub.
I mentally send energy into the air that no fire marshals decide to pay us a visit as I excuse myself through the crowd. At the bar, my sister is rushing around behind it while her three barbacks cash people out.
She nods at me while pouring a round of shots. “We need clean glasses, bottles restocked, and the ice bin refilled.”
I narrow my eyes and tilt my head.
Willow groans as she slams down her bottle and slides the small glasses toward waiting hands. “Alright, sorry about what I said earlier. Can you please help your big sister out?”
I purse my lips, half inclined to make her grovel a little more, but decide not to push my luck. She’ll only retaliate later, and with Adrian staying for a while this time, I don’t want to make things more awkward than they need to be.
Still, I have to ask one thing before agreeing to be an errand girl. “Did you tell Adrian where I was?”
She smirks, accepting a hundred-dollar bill from the young patron. “Answer this first. Why are you fresh out of the shower?”
My mouth pops open, a blush burning up my neck. “Because I got dirty from the damn vent closet on third. You know we need to get it cleaned.”
“And there isn’t any other reason?”
Tommy, still sitting in his same spot, shifts and eyes me up and down. After a thoughtful pause, he turns back to my sister. “Be nice to your kid sister, Willy. And to be fair, I don’t think she’d be standing so straight if Adrian finally made a move.”
“Tommy!” my sister and I yell out in unison, but he merely shrugs.
Annoyed with both of them, I stomp off in the direction of the storage unit behind the bar. The entire time I work around my sister and the barbacks, I try to drown out my heart racing in my ears, and the memories of me and Adrian in the bathroom.
I empty out the four trash bins and replace the bags. He was just being friendly.
I fill up the two ice buckets and dump them into the reservoirs. He’s being a good friend and helping out.
I replenish the empty shelves, wipe down the counters, and haul the dishes to the back. He doesn’t look at you like that. He’s your best friend, for fuck’s sake.
Around the third tray of dishes I push into the washer, my sister appears in the back. She juts her thumb toward the door to the bar. “Parade’s about to start, so it’s quieted down. You’re off the hook.”
My shoulders fall in relief. “Oh, thank goodness. I was about two seconds away from collapsing.”
Willow grunts. “It wasn’t that bad.”
I wave my wrinkling fingers in her face. “I’m a hundred-year-old prune right now.”
She rolls her eyes, but a sincere smile curls her lips. “Seriously, though, thank you. I knew it’d get busy before the parade, but damn. I called in a few more people to help with the night shift.”
Yanking off my apron, I toss it to her. “Even better. I’m about to go upstairs and take the longest nap of my life.”
“So what should I tell Adrian?”
This stops me, and my pulse increases. “What do you mean?”
She shrugs. “He texted me that he’s about done with the list you gave him and wants to know if he can grab the key to the spare room, so he can shower before he meets you for drinks.”
I draw my lip through my teeth, debating how badly I want the nap. Finally, I decide against it and shake my head. “It’s fine. Go ahead and give it to him, and I’ll go fiddle around in the ballroom to get ready for Monday’s event.”
Her light brows furrow. “We have all weekend to worry about that.”
“Yeah, but I have nothing better to do.”
“How about taking a nap?”
“I don’t want to disturb–”
“Okay, stop with the bullshit.” My sister’s hands find her hips, and I internally groan, knowing a lecture is on the horizon. “He’s literally walked around half-naked before. Taken a shower at our place while we cooked breakfast. Changed his clothes as if we weren’t in the room. I mean, the list goes on. So why would you being in the same room while he showers be any different than any of those times?”
“It’s not.”
“Yet you’re acting weird about it. Did something happen?” Her voice is lower now, taking on a serious edge. “Spill it.”
Lying to my sister is futile, has been since I attempted to do so when pinky swearing in fifth grade. She says I have a tell, and has always been able to sniff out any crap I try to sell her.
Still, I try. “Nope.”
Willow’s lips lift into an eerie smile. Dammit.
“Try again, baby sister.”
“Why does it matter?”
“Because it’s about making a point.”
I mirror her stance and toss my hands on my hips. Can’t beat them, deflect. “And what point would that be?”
“You suck at lying and you’re crazy in love with Adrian.”
My eyes hurt from flaring so wide, but I try my hand at annoyance. “Are you still on about that? It’s been fifteen years, Will.”
“And it’s about damn time you admit you lied. On a pinky swear, no less. It’s the principle.”
“You’re such an igit.”
She throws her head back as laughter tumbles past her lips. “An igit who’s right. You don’t want to admit it? Fine. But don’t insult me as your sister and friend by lying about why you can’t take a damn nap around him.”
There’s something I both hate and love about having my sister also be my best friend. While I can tell her about the horrendous dates I have with the boring tax attorney, or my secret desire to be railed like a complete whore by the guy who plays Winter Soldier, I filter anything that pertains to Adrian.
It’s mainly because he’s also Willow’s friend. I’d hate for her to make things more awkward, or even worse, feel the need to stop hanging around us altogether.
But the look on her face does things to make me feel like a crappy sister.
Freaking jerk.
“You love making me feel like an ass.”
“Isn’t it my job?”
Throwing my hands up in defeat, I give her a general synopsis of what happened in the bathroom. I explain how it felt like I was imagining things, but at the same time, I know I wasn’t. How I’m both confused and nervous about the shift in the air. That there’s something different.
She leans against the threshold of the door, looking out at the bar for a moment as she digests what I’ve said. What I’ve pretty much admitted. When she turns back around, I’m surprised by the genuine earnestness in her voice.
“He’s losing his will to keep you at arm’s length.”
I lift a questioning brow. “And that means?”
Willow sighs, redoing her ponytail that’s come slightly loose. “He’s fighting the same urges you are. Probably worried about ruining a twenty-year-old friendship for a night in the sack.”
I swallow around the thick lump suddenly in my throat. When she doesn’t elaborate, I clear my throat. “You’re saying what?”
“I think it’s pretty obvious he wants you just as bad, Sam. But naturally, he’s holding back like you are. Seems like it’s getting harder for him, though. My advice?”
I nod, and she straightens. “Be an adult and confront it. If you both communicate, you might be surprised to find out how something that seems impossible is actually easy.”
Without another word, she pushes the swinging door open and disappears, leaving me with my heart in my throat and my mind full of what-ifs.
