I kept my mouth shut, simultaneously wanting him to continue and wanting him to shut up.
“I was a dumbass,” he repeated. “And a coward. It was easier to keep you as a friend and see you as only a friend. I think my brain just sort of went autopilot on that. Like, Navy equals friend.”
These were things I had wanted to hear for years. So why did hearing them now make me feel hollow?
“In high school, when you told me you had a crush on me…” He sighed. “After I…”
“Nicely rejected me?”
“Yeah.” He swallowed loudly. “That. Did you get over it quickly?”
How honest could I be here? It was only my pride, after all. “I’m not sure what you’d define as ‘quick.’”
“When did you get over it, then?”
“I mean, it stung for a few years after you turned me down. Of course it did. Every time we were at a party together, I waited for the moment when your eyes would seek out mine, and then I had this image of you smiling your perfect smile—the one you reserved for the girls you chased—but at me this time.”
“I don’t chase girls.”
“Well, then, whatever you did. Passively pursued girls.”
“I like that phrasing. Passively pursued.”
“You’re welcome,” I said, and fluffed my pillow.
After a moment, he said, “For a few years?”
I closed my eyes tight and opened them again. “Pathetic, I know.”
“Not pathetic. But the fact that you didn’t tell me…”
“Oh come on, how was I supposed to? ‘Hey, Keane, I know you turned me down two years ago but I’m still a bit sad about it. How can I get over it?’ That would’ve ruined things between us. You would have felt too bad to keep breaking my heart and I couldn’t stand to see you give me attention you didn’t feel.”
“So what you’re saying is…”
“The last time we were honest about our feelings for one another, it changed us. It turned me ninety degrees one way and you ninety degrees the other way. It’s been hard to reach you ever since.”
“And here I thought it’d been hard to reach you for the last two weeks.”
“Try years.”
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I needed those growing pains. And at least you stuck around as my friend.”
“You wouldn’t be able to shake me loose.” His hand found mine again under the blankets and his eyes met me under the soft amber light. His gaze strayed to my mouth. “Is that lipstick meant to be a deterrent, so I won’t kiss you?”
I hadn’t even thought of that. “No.” I touched my lips.
“Okay. Because it wouldn’t matter anyway, to me. I still want to kiss you.”
Oh, why did my heart go all crazy against my ribs? “Keane, you can’t say that.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” I said, but it was hard to remind myself of the reason why. “We haven’t had that talk yet. We can’t just fall into something together without talking about it.”
“We did a couple weeks ago.”
My cheeks warmed. “Yeah, I know we did. And then things got weird. We owe it to ourselves and our friendship to talk about things before we repeat that.”
Keane sighed. “I guess you’re right. But still, just throwing it out there that I want to kiss you again.”
I couldn’t tell him I wanted that too. Because I very much did want that, but with my life as messy as it was, I couldn’t handle losing my best friend the way I’d felt I had after we’d had sex. If we repeated it, without guidelines in place first, I wasn’t sure how we’d survive it.
And as my eyes traced his face, I didn’t think I’d survive the loss of Keane. The risk wasn’t worth potentially losing the one constant in my life right now.
“You look different with lipstick.” His eyes traced my mouth so slowly I swore I could feel it.
“You’ve seen me in lipstick before.”
“Maybe. But it’s such a bold color.”
“You don’t like it?”
“I don’t think you need it.” He scooted closer to me, making the air mattress squeak obnoxiously loud in the truck bed. We both laughed and then I pressed my lips to the back of my hand.
“I don’t even like lipstick.” I didn’t know why I’d slicked it on in the first place, or why I’d repeatedly reapplied it throughout the evening. I licked my lips but knew that wouldn’t suffice. “I wish I had a makeup wipe.”
“Here.” Keane leaned forward, bringing him a whisper from me. All I could see was him. All I could smell was the aftershave I recognized. All I could hear was the pounding of my pulse in my ears. And all I could feel was his warm thumb brushing across my lower lip gently.
With one sturdy hand, he held my jaw as he meticulously removed the lipstick from my mouth. First the lower lip then the upper. Was it my imagination that I swore I could feel every ridge of his thumbprint as he traced my cupid’s bow?
I was completely unraveling. When I was alone, I could tell myself that what was between Keane and I was friends only, that my feelings weren’t building with every single touch. I could convince myself that being friends was enough. That this was all I wanted; this was all I needed.
But when I was in his presence, all of those thoughts dissipated like the lies they were.
If he came any closer, I swore I’d crumble.
He made a tsk sound and cradled my jaw with both hands, lifting my chin infinitesimally. “You even got it on your face,” he said.
“What?”
“Yeah. Right here,” he said, pressing his thumb against my cheek. “And right here.” He pressed his thumb to my temple. “And even here. How silly.” He tapped the tip of my chin.
“You just put lipstick thumbprints all over my face, didn’t you?”
He wrinkled his nose. “No, that doesn’t sound like me.”
“You dick,” I said with a laugh, playfully hitting his chest. “Now I’m going to look ridiculous in the morning with lipstick smeared all over my face.”
“Okay, fine,” he said and before I could steel myself, he was leaning over me, pressing his lips first to the place he’d pressed his thumb on my cheek, then his lips found my temple, where he laid soft kisses across my eyebrow, and back down until he kissed my chin. I didn’t breathe, didn’t move a single muscle.
It was too much. It was everything.
“Keane…” I breathed when his mouth hovered over mine.
“You said no cuddling.”
The warmth from his face this close to mine liquified my insides. I wanted to squirm, to move. To act unaffected. But as I shuddered out my words, I knew I sounded anything but unaffected. “And no kissing.”
“Oh.” It was whispered across my mouth. “I’m not kissing you. Am I?” Our lips were not even an inch apart. If I tilted my head, we’d collide.
“You’re kissing my skin.”
“That doesn’t count.” He pressed a soft kiss to the angle of my jaw. “Unless you want me to stop.”