Read Online A Fine Mess (Over the Top) by Kelly Siskind - Free Book Online
Authors: Kelly Siskind
Ads: Link
nothing happened on the flight. It almost did, but I couldn’t follow through.” His lips brush my ear, the pressure so soft I can’t tell if it’s his breath or his touch. Then he pulls away. “So you understand?” He grabs his Scotch and takes a large swallow.
What?
What? What? What?
I mimic him and chug half my wine, hoping the buzz will help me tune out the moisture developing in places long dormant. As relieved as I am he didn’t have sex on the airplane, turbulence rocks my mind. I can’t tell if he’s trying to be cryptic, or if he really thinks he made things clearer. Anyone else and I’d fumble over my words, unable to voice my confusion. But this is Sawyer. “I really don’t. We’re closer than other couples I know, so if the attraction is there, if you’re struggling, too, I don’t get it. Is it the timing? Because it’s so soon after Kevin?”
I probably shouldn’t push things. My urge to shop has spiked the past week, the strangeness of my new life eased with each purchase. I kept the extent of my compulsion from Kevin, but Sawyer is different. When I pick at my nail polish, he badgers me until I explain why I’m stressed. If I take too long to order lunch, he does his pros-and-cons thing. He’s not one to let those moments go or ignore my quirks, and he can’t ever know about the farm.
But my heart’s too wrapped up in him to worry about what-ifs.
He swishes his glass, the ice twirling in a circle. “It’s not Kevin. For as long as I’ve known you, you haven’t been into him.” Another swirl, then a sad smile. “You’re a relationship girl, Lil. You want the whole package, which is cool. It’s just not who I am. We’re too close for us to sleep together and for it to mean nothing. It would hurt you when I don’t want more. So, yeah, I’d kill to touch you, and it’s messing with my mind”—his eyes flash in an unfamiliar way—“but I wouldn’t be okay with the fallout.”
I’m about to open my mouth and claim he’s wrong, that I can totally do casual, anything to taste his lips. If I could experience that, I’d suggest a fling. If I could have that, I’d throw caution to the wind. As long as it’s us: me and Sawyer. But the us in the thought stops me.
Because he’s right.
I’ll always want more—the bond and commitment and everything that comes with intimacy. I’ve tried to play off my feelings as a crush, but one look from him lifts my mood, each touch burns through me. If we got together, and he pushed me away, my shopping spree this week would be the tip of the iceberg.
I sip my wine. I swallow. I allow the knowledge to sink in. Still, I don’t want to lose him in my life. “So, what do we do? How do we get rid of the weird?”
He taps his chin. “I can do the worm, and if someone gives me a hat, I can spin on my head. But they have to play Run-D.M.C.”
I laugh at the visual, the tense mood lightening. “Bad idea. You’d ruin your hair.” And it is good hair—clipped short on the sides and longer up top, messy but neat. Like he’s just stepped out of bed and dragged his hands through it.
“Fine point. How about an outing, then? Just the two of us, like normal. I have a superfun family Christmas party coming up and need gifts for my nieces. You free tomorrow afternoon?”
“Yes.” The answer spills out. If we stay friends, we have to work through this tension. Plus he’s my employer, and I love my job. Given time I’ll get over him. Given time the weirdness will dissipate. Still, my heart squeezes.
He clinks our glasses together. “See? We can do this. Both of us single. Just friends. Nothing’s changed. I need to spend time with the team, but I’ll text you tomorrow. Maybe you can take me to one of those vintage stores you like.”
I chew my lip, unsure that’s a smart idea. But the urge to spend time with him is too strong. It’ll have to be a different shop, one I don’t frequent. No employees to recognize and comment on my
What?
What? What? What?
I mimic him and chug half my wine, hoping the buzz will help me tune out the moisture developing in places long dormant. As relieved as I am he didn’t have sex on the airplane, turbulence rocks my mind. I can’t tell if he’s trying to be cryptic, or if he really thinks he made things clearer. Anyone else and I’d fumble over my words, unable to voice my confusion. But this is Sawyer. “I really don’t. We’re closer than other couples I know, so if the attraction is there, if you’re struggling, too, I don’t get it. Is it the timing? Because it’s so soon after Kevin?”
I probably shouldn’t push things. My urge to shop has spiked the past week, the strangeness of my new life eased with each purchase. I kept the extent of my compulsion from Kevin, but Sawyer is different. When I pick at my nail polish, he badgers me until I explain why I’m stressed. If I take too long to order lunch, he does his pros-and-cons thing. He’s not one to let those moments go or ignore my quirks, and he can’t ever know about the farm.
But my heart’s too wrapped up in him to worry about what-ifs.
He swishes his glass, the ice twirling in a circle. “It’s not Kevin. For as long as I’ve known you, you haven’t been into him.” Another swirl, then a sad smile. “You’re a relationship girl, Lil. You want the whole package, which is cool. It’s just not who I am. We’re too close for us to sleep together and for it to mean nothing. It would hurt you when I don’t want more. So, yeah, I’d kill to touch you, and it’s messing with my mind”—his eyes flash in an unfamiliar way—“but I wouldn’t be okay with the fallout.”
I’m about to open my mouth and claim he’s wrong, that I can totally do casual, anything to taste his lips. If I could experience that, I’d suggest a fling. If I could have that, I’d throw caution to the wind. As long as it’s us: me and Sawyer. But the us in the thought stops me.
Because he’s right.
I’ll always want more—the bond and commitment and everything that comes with intimacy. I’ve tried to play off my feelings as a crush, but one look from him lifts my mood, each touch burns through me. If we got together, and he pushed me away, my shopping spree this week would be the tip of the iceberg.
I sip my wine. I swallow. I allow the knowledge to sink in. Still, I don’t want to lose him in my life. “So, what do we do? How do we get rid of the weird?”
He taps his chin. “I can do the worm, and if someone gives me a hat, I can spin on my head. But they have to play Run-D.M.C.”
I laugh at the visual, the tense mood lightening. “Bad idea. You’d ruin your hair.” And it is good hair—clipped short on the sides and longer up top, messy but neat. Like he’s just stepped out of bed and dragged his hands through it.
“Fine point. How about an outing, then? Just the two of us, like normal. I have a superfun family Christmas party coming up and need gifts for my nieces. You free tomorrow afternoon?”
“Yes.” The answer spills out. If we stay friends, we have to work through this tension. Plus he’s my employer, and I love my job. Given time I’ll get over him. Given time the weirdness will dissipate. Still, my heart squeezes.
He clinks our glasses together. “See? We can do this. Both of us single. Just friends. Nothing’s changed. I need to spend time with the team, but I’ll text you tomorrow. Maybe you can take me to one of those vintage stores you like.”
I chew my lip, unsure that’s a smart idea. But the urge to spend time with him is too strong. It’ll have to be a different shop, one I don’t frequent. No employees to recognize and comment on my
Similar Books
