Charming My Best Friend (Fated #2) (6 page)

I was relieved that Aiden wasn’t depressed over breaking up with
Chelsea. If he’d been sulking, I don’t know what I could’ve said that wouldn’t
have sounded heartless. Not that he was a sulker anyway.

In fact, ever since I’d known him, I was always impressed with
the way he just got on with things even when they didn’t go his way. It made
him even more attractive than his thick hair and his taut muscles which I
watched moving under his shirt as he opened his apartment door with a six pack
of shandys under his arm.

“When was the last time you came over?” he asked, flicking the
lights on and tossing his keys in a bowl by the door.

“It’s been a while,” I said, remembering how awkward Chelsea had
been to me the last time I was there.

Aiden walked over to the fridge and slid my beers in the
freezer. “I don’t think anything has changed.”

“This bookshelf is new,” I said, making my way over to it.

“Oh that. I built that myself actually.”

I put my hand on the side of it. “Really?”

“Well, it’s from Ikea, but still.” He took a glass out and
popped a few cubes out of an ice tray. “Shandy with ice?”

“Please,” I said, looking at the books on the shelf. They fell
into three clear categories: business books, physical therapy & anatomy
books, and biographies of sports personalities. “I didn’t know you could read.”

He smiled. “I can’t,” he said, appearing at my side with a cold
drink. “But I can sound out the table of contents well enough to get the main
ideas.”

I laughed and took the glass from his hand. “Thanks.”

Aiden put two thick fingers on the spine of one of the books and
slid it off the shelf. “You might like this one,” he said, handing it to me.

It was a business book called
Getting it Right the First Time
Around.

“Every chapter is the story of how a different entrepreneur started
their first business and what they wish they’d known.”

I put my beer on the edge of one of the shelves. “You got all
that from the table of contents?”

He shrugged. “To be honest, I haven’t even read it. I was just
hoping you would check it out and summarize it for me.”

I opened it and flipped through the pages. Even though the small
print was too blurry for me to make out in my pleasantly drunken state, it was
obvious that he had read it. Not only was there something underlined every few
pages, but I recognized his cramped hand writing in the margins. “Looks like
you’ve already done the hard work for me.”

He leaned against the bookshelf and brought his beer to his
lips. “I don’t know how much of it would be relevant to opening a salon, but
you’re welcome to borrow it anytime- or anything else in my library that grabs
you.”

I rolled my eyes when I heard him refer to the skinny shelf as a
library, but there was a twinkle of pride in his eyes that was sort of cute.

“I’m going to throw some taquitos in,” he said, heading back
towards the kitchen. “You wanna put some music on?”

“Sure,” I said, looking around.

“Speaker’s on the table.”

I made my way over to his iPod and turned it on. “I can see your
musical tastes haven’t evolved.”

“I mostly listen to that when I’m working out. You might be
better off finding something on the radio if it’s guitar sounds you’re after.”

I switched the radio on and tuned it to my favorite classic rock
station, laughing when I heard the familiar melody. “I’d like to dedicate this
song to you,” I said, turning it up.

“Hilarious,” he said when he recognized Queen’s
I Want to
Break Free
. “I suppose it beats
Bat out of Hell
.”

I walked over and took a seat on one of the barstools so I could
keep him company while he laid the frozen taquitos lengthways on the pan,
watching as he closed one of his drunken eyes to ensure that they were evenly
spaced.

“Do you want me to do the nachos?” I asked.

His eyes looked up at me, but he kept his head down. “I want you
to just sit there and look pretty.”

“I said I would though.”

“You need to concentrate on your drinking,” he said. “You still
have a ways to go to catch up to me.”

“True,” I said, lifting my beer to my lips.

I watched him grab some cheese and jalapenos out of the fridge before
pulling an unopened bag of Tostito’s scoops from one of the cabinets.

“Scoops!” I said. “Scoops are my favorite.”

He laughed. “I know. You explained their merits to me at length
one night, and ever since then all the other tortilla chips seem horribly
ineffective.”

“Did I?” I tilted my head. “I don’t remember that.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to. It was the first night I ever saw you
drink cheap vodka straight from the bottle.”

I felt my eyes go wide. “When was that?”

He dumped some chips on a plate. “Around the time your first
fake got taken away.”

I shook my head. “What a rip off that thing was.”

He laughed. “I thought you made a good Monica Applebottom.”

“Shut up.”

“What were you supposed to be? Thirty-two?”

“Twenty-eight. From West Virginia.”

“Oh, yeah.” Aiden pulled a knife out of the drawer and sunk it
into the block of cheddar.

I was pretty sure I couldn’t see that much better than he could,
but the slices he was cutting were as thick as his fingers and liable to choke
someone who’d had as much Jack as he had.

“Let me do that,” I said, sliding down from the barstool and
walking around the counter.

“Are you just being nice or do you think I can’t melt cheese on
chips?”

“I’m being nice,” I lied, nudging him out of the way.

He handed me the knife before scooting to the side and grabbing
his beer. After he took a sip, he slipped the taquitos in the preheated oven
and resumed leaning against the counter beside me.

“Can I help you?” I asked, feeling his eyes on me.

“No, I’m good,” he said. “Just watching.”

I laid the thin slices of cheese over the top of the chips and
went to the sink to wash the peppers. I gave them a quick rinse and looked over
my shoulder. “Do you have a paper towel or something?”

Aiden handed one over my shoulders and I grabbed it, drying the
peppers over the sink. When I turned around, he was standing right in front of me
and my heart jumped in my throat.

For a second, he just looked at me, and I stared back at him for
what felt like five minutes but was probably closer to five seconds. He was
making a face I’d never seen him make before, and if it had been any other guy
on the planet, I would’ve recognized it as the universal, “I’m going to kiss
you now face.”

But it was Aiden. And it was me. Making nachos. I needed to get
a grip.

“Can I use the bathroom?” I asked, laying the peppers down on
the counter and excusing myself.

He didn’t say anything as I disappeared around the corner.

By the time I closed the bathroom door behind me, I was out of
breath.

I looked in the mirror and smacked my cheeks. I was freaking out
for no reason. After that many drinks, I should’ve been relaxed, not agitated.

I was just making a snack with my best friend after a drinking
session, or mid drinking session if I didn’t ruin our good time. It was nothing
out of the ordinary and something we’d done hundreds of times. I was supposed
to be a friendly distraction and nothing more.

So why the hell was I so flustered and thinking inappropriate
thoughts about his fingers and reading into everything like a total nut case? How
many times did he have to tell me that he just wanted me to hang out and look
pretty before I believed him?

The guy just broke up with his girlfriend for chrisssakes!

I should’ve kissed her. Why did I hesitate?

If it had been any other woman, I wouldn’t have stared at her
like that. I would’ve gone for it and dealt with the consequences.

What the hell was my problem?

And what the hell was she thinking?! That I was drunk? That I
didn’t know what I was doing?

I grabbed the peppers and sliced the tops off, turning the knife
around the inside to remove the seeds.

I needed to get a grip and make a move. So what if she laughed
in my face? I had to know if she tasted like cake, if her mouth could be as
soft as it could be hard. And I wasn’t so drunk that I didn’t know what I was
doing.

Sure, I knew that she was my best friend, that she probably
didn’t look at me that way. But there was only one way to find out, and I
wasn’t going to make the mistake of asking politely. She wasn’t that kind of
girl. She fell for guys who knew what they wanted and weren’t afraid to go for
it.

Not that I wanted her to fall for me or anything. I wasn’t
thinking anywhere near that far ahead. I just wanted to kiss her, just to see
what it was like, just to satisfy my curiosity before it became too much.

Because if I didn’t think of an excuse to lay my hands on her
body, I felt like I might never relax again.

I took a deep breath and started slicing the peppers.

It had to be tonight. After all, I was drunker than she was which
meant I stood the best chance of getting away with it. If she thought I was
being a cheeky bastard, she’d just slap me, and we could both laugh about it
later. However, if she was tipsy enough to kiss me back…

“You’re doing a good job with that,” she said, peering over the
counter. “I don’t know why I doubted you.”

I looked up and smiled. “Thanks,” I said, wincing. “But I think
you spoke too soon.”

“Are you okay?”

“Shit,” I said, holding up my hand.

“What is it?”

I looked at my finger. A second later, a thin line of blood began
seeping through my skin.

“Damn it, Aiden,” Lucy said, coming around the counter. “You
should’ve waited for me to do it.”

I started to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, grabbing my wrist and looking at
the damage.

“It’s such a little cut,” I said, a tear springing to my eyes
from laughing so hard. “But it burns like a bitch.”

“You’re an idiot,” she said, marching me over to the sink.

She turned the water on and held my finger under the tap. When
she moved it, it started to bleed right away. “From now on, we get take out
when we’re drinking.”

“Agreed,” I said.

“Do you have any band aids?” she asked.

“You mean I’m not going to lose the finger?”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re going to lose your tongue if you
don’t stop laughing.”

I held my hand over the sink and pointed to a cabinet by the
fridge. “Above the microwave.”

I watched her go to the cabinet and lift up on her tippy toes.
When she reached for the band aids, her shirt lifted just enough that I could
see a strip of her skin.

I swallowed.

She walked back over to me, keeping her eyes on the box of band
aids while she pulled a few out. “Do you want Batman or Spiderman?”

“Is there no more Superman?” I asked, pretending to pout.

She groaned and dug her thin fingers inside the box. “Ah-hah,” she
said, pulling out a Superman band aid.

I held my finger out in front of her and watched as she wrapped the
cartoon bandage around it. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” she said, lifting the box of band aids off the
counter. “I feel like it’s kind of my fault for leaving you alone with the
knife and the peppers.”

“Lucy.”

She looked up at me, her breath catching in her throat.

Then, before she could say anything, I lifted my hand and dragged
my thumb across her cheekbone, sliding my palm against the side of her neck.

She froze when I touched her, neither blinking nor breathing.

I searched her eyes for a moment before lowering my gaze to her
parted lips and kissing them, pressing my mouth against hers softly enough that
she could’ve pulled away.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she inhaled, and I felt the breath she sucked into her
lungs move past my lips and fill her with the energy she needed to kiss me
back. I slid my other hand around her waist just under her shirt, a waist I had
only ever held before to help her hop fences or for brief moments at school
dances. But it was different this time because there was nothing between my
rough hand and her silky skin.

I slipped my tongue in her open mouth and swirled it around
hers, tasting my best friend for the first time and feeling her go slack in my
arms as I did so.

I willed her to put her hands on me, to run them up my chest,
but she seemed too overwhelmed by my kiss.

And it only made me want to overwhelm her more.

I dropped my hand from her cheek and scrunched the bottom of her
shirt in my fists, eager to see the breasts I’d been thinking about since she
bent over in the salon. But as soon as I started to lift it up, her hands came
down on mine and pushed them away.

I craned my neck back and looked at her.

Her eyes were wide and her face was white except for her pink
lips. “I have to go,” she said, backing away from me.

“No, you don’t,” I said. “Stay.”

“No, I really need to,” she said, grabbing her purse.

“I didn’t mean to upset you, I just got carrie-”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, avoiding eye contact. “I just
forgot I have to do something.”

“What?! What are you talking about? Wait! Lucy!”

She stuffed her feet back in her shoes without untying the laces
and slipped out the door.

“I said I was sorry,” I called, swinging my front door open just
in time to see the staircase doors closing.

I couldn’t believe it. She was in such a hurry she didn’t even
wait for the elevator.

I closed the door and slammed my fist against it. “Goddamnit!”

What the fuck was her problem? I couldn’t have been any gentler.

And the truth was I wasn’t sorry I did it. I was only sorry she
hadn’t given in to me.

Cause I thought she was going to. I really did, especially after
she’d let me press right up against her and explore her mouth with my tongue. That
was a fucking green light as far as I was concerned, and I never would’ve
stopped there if she hadn’t fled like a goddamn Okie.

Worst of all, kissing her had been more amazing than I ever
imagined it could be. I mean, I thought it would be fun, but the way she felt
in my hands, the way she tasted...

It wasn’t like kissing my sister at all. Not that I’d ever
kissed my sister, not like that anyway. And it wasn’t like kissing a friend
either.

On the contrary, there were sparks, and everything that was familiar
about her seemed to disappear in that moment until…

No, I definitely wouldn’t have stopped there.

So why did she?