In a New York Minute(69)

“Hey.” I tried to force myself to sound casual and friend-like, and not like someone who’d been nervously anticipating this moment all week. “You’re early too, huh?”

“Did you not get a text?” she said, her brow furrowed like she was trying to piece together a puzzle. “Lola said she and Perrine needed to cancel. Something about them both having food poisoning.”

I nodded. “I see.”

“And then Cleo also conveniently got dragged into some emergency at work.”

“Huh.” I nodded again and pulled my phone out of my pocket. Indeed, there was a text from Perrine. Sorry for last minute text but sick and need to cancel dinner, was all it said. I held the phone up for Franny to see.

“Wow. Is your cousin as cunning as my best friends?” she asked, a look of disbelief on her face.

“Apparently,” I said, still putting the pieces together. “We’ve been set up.”

“Oh, big-time.” At first, I thought she was pissed off, but then Franny’s head tipped backward, and the most beautiful, uproarious laugh poured past her lips, which were lined with that rich red color of hers. Just that sound of pure joy from her set off a spark inside me, and I couldn’t help but smile.

“I’m honestly kind of impressed,” I said, running my hands through my hair. “This is not Perrine’s style at all. She’s much less obvious with her forcing of people to—”

To be together, is what I wanted to say. But I cut myself off. We’d both agreed that this thing between us wasn’t going anywhere, and the last thing I wanted to do was seem like I hadn’t gotten the message.

“Oh, well, this is classic Lola, so you might want to get used to it.” She said this with an affectionate smile, and it hit me how much she adored her friends. It was another thing I liked about her.

There was a lull, and in that brief quiet moment, it dawned on me. I’d made a mistake trying to convince myself I didn’t want this to go further. I was desperate for Franny. And, god, I liked how I felt whenever I was around her. Like my brain was on vacation and my whole body was warmed up by the sun.

“All right, well…” She gave me a small nod, like she was about to leave. This was my last chance.

“Wait,” I said, my throat suddenly sand-dry. “When you called me last weekend”—the words rumbled out, raw and honest—“I should have told you how I felt. I like you. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about kissing you.”

Franny just stared at me.

“Let me try this again,” I said, clearing my throat. “First and foremost, I respect both your professional boundaries and your personal space, and will honor them completely. But I wish I had been more clear with you about how I felt after we kissed. I wanted it to happen, and I’m so glad it did.”

“I’m glad it did too,” Franny said slowly, eyes firm on my face. “I just thought maybe I’d misread you, or the situation. I wasn’t sure.”

I shook my head. “You didn’t misread anything. And I’m sorry—I should have told you how I’ve been feeling. I only came here tonight because I wanted to see you. I hope we can still be friends.”

She nodded, her eyes searching mine. “But you’d also be okay with, like, more than friends?”

I laughed at this. It felt like my feelings were so obvious they were tattooed on my forehead. Clearly, I needed to do a better job expressing them out loud. “Yes,” I said firmly. “Yes.”

I took a step closer to her and watched as her chest heaved with a breath, then released, as she dragged her teeth, so slowly, over her bottom lip. I had known her long enough now to know that her brain was moving at a mile a minute, processing fifty different things she could say to me, all of which could slice me open in a second. Everything she said to me, no matter the nicest words or a cutting dig, burned through my veins like venom. She was my poison, for better or for worse.

And then I saw it. That thing that happened on her face whenever she shifted into a smile. I felt silly even thinking it, but there was no other way to describe it. She sparkled.

“Should we get a drink?” she said finally.

“I’d love that,” I said. There was a relief in letting these words go, in putting it all out there in front of us.

“You don’t want to go home and run ten miles?” She was teasing me now, and it felt amazing.

“I can do that tomorrow morning. I can even do it with a hangover.” I let out a breath, let my tongue run over my bottom lip.

“I don’t think you even get hangovers,” she said, and she reached up and ran her hand gently across my cheek, down my jaw. From her words, it was clear she’d intended it to be a joke, but her voice was lower than normal, serious. “Sometimes, you seem superhuman.”

“I promise you, I’m not superhuman. Just anal-retentive and addicted to routine.” I tried to say this jokingly, but I felt weirdly self-conscious. “I’m assuming there’s still a dinner reservation for our group. Clearly, our friends were hoping we’d use it.”

She blinked up at me then, her pupils wide and bright and open. Something about her face hit a place so deep in my gut that I hadn’t known it existed until very recently. I raised my hands, unsure of what I was doing until they found hers, and she brought them close to her chest, her fingers intertwined with mine.