“Well?” Tom’s fingers drummed on the steering wheel as the traffic slowed. The tense set to his jaw telegraphed his irritation.
“Well what?”
“Don’t you have anything to say to that?”
God. How to answer? I scrubbed my hands over my face, buying precious seconds as I struggled to formulate a response. I was pretty sure he knew how I felt about him. Did I lie and let us shrug it off as a drunken mistake or tell the truth and see where that led us?
I glanced up and caught his gaze. Blue eyes fixed on mine, and the flash of vulnerability I saw there made my mind up for me.
One of us had to address the fucking elephant in the room. We’d never get past this otherwise. And in that moment, I realised that if friendship was all I’d ever get, then I’d fucking take it, because I’d missed him more than I cared to admit. But we had to be honest with each other.
“You hurt me,” I whispered, looking down at my hands. I took a deep breath. “That kiss was the single most perfect moment of my life so far.” His breath hitched, but I couldn’t look at him if I was going to get all this out. “But when I read your text, it broke me.” Traffic came to a standstill at the worst possible moment, and I felt the weight of his full attention. “I was embarrassed. I thought I’d ruined our friendship.” I let out a bitter laugh. “Which, it turns out, I did. And I couldn’t face reading any more of your words.”
Silence filled the car once more, but the tension hung thick between the two of us. Thank fuck traffic picked up and we started to move again, because I couldn’t take his scrutiny much longer.
Tiny flakes of snow hit the windscreen, the sky turning a grey-white as we travelled along the motorway, and eventually Tom sighed again. They say a person sighs about twelve times per hour. I reckon Tom was going to double that.
“Do you still have my messages saved?” he asked as he manoeuvred the car into the inside lane.
A flush crept over my cheeks. “Yeah.” I couldn’t bring myself to read them, but I couldn’t delete them either.
He turned and fixed me with a pointed look. “Read them.”
“What now?” With you sat next to me? That wasn’t going to be awkward at all.
“Yeah, now.” His expression didn’t change as he faced the road again. Obviously I was the only one who thought this was a bad idea. But despite my reluctance, I scrolled through to his name. And hesitated with my thumb over the screen.
“Just read them, Jared. Please.”
It was the please that got me. Gripping the phone tight, my pulse racing. I clicked on our conversation. Quickly skipping past that first drunken one, I started to read.
Tom: Hey, can we talk? I’m sorry about that text I sent last night. I was so drunk, as you can see from the shitty spelling.
Tom: Jared?
Tom: Please don’t ignore me. We need to talk about this.
Tom: I’m outside your front door. you better not be inside and refusing to answer.
I don’t remember him ever coming round, so at least I hadn’t been that much of an arsehole. Though I couldn’t be sure whether I would’ve let him in or not.
Tom: Answer my texts for fucks sake, you stubborn bastard.
The next few messages were much the same, and I winced as they got increasingly more desperate. I’d behaved like a right wanker. He was my best friend. Yes, we kissed, yes, he’d hurt me afterwards, but we’d been best friends for years. I owed him better than that.
I opened my mouth to say as much when I landed on his last message.
Tom: Ok, you’re either pissed off, embarrassed, or hiding because you regret the whole thing. I wouldn’t know because you won’t fucking talk to me. So I guess I’m just going to say my piece anyway.
We kissed.
At the time it was fucking wonderful because it was you, and we were both a little drunk. But the next day reality set in and I had a lot of confusing fucking feelings. I didn’t know how to deal with them all and so I got incredibly drunk and sent you that stupid fucking text. But thing was, I liked that kiss. Really liked it, Jared. But it also scared me, because you’re my best fucking friend and I can’t lose that. I won’t.
And you have a fucking boyfriend.
I might not like him, but I won’t be that guy, J. I’ve been on that side of it and it sucks.
Was it a drunken one-off? Or did it mean more to you?
This is why we need to fucking talk.
I bit my lip.
Hard.
Well, fuck me.
He’d liked it too.
I shot Tom a quick glance. He sat ramrod straight, eyes on the road, and gripped the steering wheel like it might try to escape at any second.
Either he was nervous about me reading what he’d sent or . . . “Jesus!” While I’d had my head in the phone, the snow had got a lot worse. Big fat flakes fell onto the windscreen, cutting visibility considerably. “Where the hell did this come from?” How long had I been reading?
A thin layer of white covered the hard shoulder and the hillside beyond, and it didn’t look like it was stopping anytime soon.
“Can you drive all right in this?” I’d never been a nervous passenger, especially not with Tom, but this was ridiculous. I struggled to make out the cars in front; no wonder Tom had a death grip on the steering wheel. “Tom?”
“It’s not the best.”
That had to be a fucking understatement.
We sat in silence for a few moments, snow falling thick and fast and showing no signs of letting up. I knew we were on the M42 now, but I’d lost track of the junctions a while ago and had no idea how long we still had to go.
“Where are we?”
“Nearing the top of the M42.”
Fuck. Still well over an hour or so to go.
Echoing my thoughts, Tom said, “I don’t fancy driving in this all the way home.” As if to add weight to his words, the wheels lost traction for a moment and the car slid towards the hard shoulder before the tyres gripped the road again. It lasted only seconds, but it scared the shit out of both of us.
“Fucking hell!” Tom blew out a breath, knuckles white and face almost matching.
I didn’t fancy driving in this for another minute let alone another ninety. Clicking through my phone, I pulled up the BBC Weather app.
Snow, snow, snow all fucking night.
“It’s not forecast to stop any time soon.”
“Fuck.”
Yep.
I checked the time, blinking in surprise when I saw it was already gone five o’clock. It was usually dark by now. The snow made the sky so much lighter than normal. “There’s a Premier Inn just off junction ten. We could stop off there for . . . a drink and food and see if this passes?” I was about to suggest staying overnight, but the words dried up on my tongue. That wouldn’t be awkward at all.
“I thought you said it was going to snow all night?” Tom asked, not looking at me, but somehow I still felt his pointed stare.
“Yeah.” I swallowed thickly and searched for the Premier Inn website. Maybe we could get a room each. Pretty sure I’d seen them advertised for twenty-nine pound a few weeks ago. “Bollocks.”
“What? Fully booked?”