A Brush with Love(38)

The urge was so far beyond lust.

It was the simple, primitive need to feel connected.

Something deep within him recognized a matching piece in Harper. He knew the moment his lips touched hers, that piece would pivot from searching to found.

He lifted his hand and cupped her jaw, rubbing his thumb across her soft skin. He felt her tense for a moment before relaxing and pressing lightly against his palm. He let his fingers trail down her throat and rest on her shoulder as he looked into the bottomless depths of her near-black eyes before closing his. He pushed forward.

Where his lips should have felt the soft lusciousness of hers, there was … nothing.

He blinked open his eyes.

She’d pulled her head back.

Holyfuck. Holyfuck. Holyfuck.

He had misread this.

Holy. Fuck.

He had no idea what to do. His neck snapped back, and his spine went ramrod straight as he took a giant step away from her.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, embarrassment pounding through him.

He’d been so sure she felt the connection too.

Harper reached out and grabbed his coat collar, panic in her own eyes. As she registered what she was doing, she dropped her grip like she’d been burned. She buried her head in her hands and let out a long groan.

“It’s not you,” she said, the words muffled by her hands. “Please, please, please don’t be sorry. I-I wanted you to kiss me…”

Dan stared at her, waiting for more of an explanation.

“But?” he finally prompted.

She sighed and looked at the ceiling, knotting her hands in her hair, as her words tumbled out in a rush. “But I know that if you kiss me, I’ll want more than that, and I can’t do more than a kiss. I can’t do any of this right now.”

There was a heavy, silent pause.

Dan opened his mouth, choosing his words carefully. “Harper, I’m not expecting you to have sex with me, if that’s what you think any of this means. I hope you know I would never assume that of you.”

She snapped her gaze to his, and her face flushed crimson. “No! No. I know that’s not what you mean by any of … this. That’s not what I’m trying—I mean, if only it were as simple as us just having sex.”

Dan’s eyebrows flew up.

“Fuck! I’m messing this up,” she said, tugging at her hair. “What I’m trying to say—I guess I mean.” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “I’m trying to say that I like you. And if you kiss me, I’ll want more. I’ll want more dates and more kisses and more time with you and I can’t do that right now … Not at this point in my life.”

He stared at her. He’d be more than happy to give her all those wants ten times over. “Why?”

Her face was pained as she chewed on her lip. “Because none of the programs I applied to are in Philly, which means I’ll be leaving in May. And maybe that seems far off to you, but I can’t have these distractions, and neglect everything I’ve been working toward, for this to end in a goodbye in five months.”

Dan felt her words sink into his skin. It wasn’t the idea of Harper moving or the distance that would separate them that scared him. She could tell him she was moving to China and he would walk, run, or swim to see her as often as he could. Miles were a minor barrier to be with a person like her. It was the fact that she assumed five months would end in goodbye.

“I can’t lose sight of what I’ve been doing all this for. I just can’t,” she continued. “You’ve been jumbling my mind and taking up all my thoughts and now, more than ever, I need to keep a clear head and my eyes on the prize.” Harper looked at him, eyes tinged with sadness. “I have to follow this path I’ve created for myself—it’s not something I expect most people to get, but it’s something I have to do. And avoiding distractions is the only way to do it.”

A distraction.

Dan would admit that the title stung. He didn’t want to be a distraction. He wanted to be a cheerleader. A stress reliever. A laugh. A kiss … He wanted to support her.

Harper took a shaky breath but met his eyes with resolve. “I think we should just be … friends.”

And there it was.

“Friends.” Dan repeated the word slowly and with a grimace. It left a bad taste in his mouth, and he wanted to remove the word from their vocabulary.

But Dan could still reach into some small, logical corner of his brain that wasn’t plastered floor to ceiling with thoughts of Harper and reason how difficult the situation must be for her, that she needed to do what she thought was right. Her walls were steel-enforced, and her resolve just as strong. Dan could either walk away or stand at the perimeter, as close as she would let him.

Any Harper was better than no Harper.

“Of course we can be friends. I would love to be your friend,” he said.

She looked at him warily before offering a sad smile. “Really?” she asked, picking up her foot and giving his shin an awkward nudge. Dan returned the gesture with his own foot.

“Really,” he said. And he meant it. “But is there any chance you are referring to the type of friends that also make out occasionally?”

She let out a bark of a laugh. “No. I don’t kiss my…” She waved a searching hand.