Best Friends Don't Kiss(33)

“Yeah.” He grins, but when he searches my eyes, that grin slips off his lips. “You okay?”

All I can do is shrug, and Luke steps toward me to wrap his big, strong arms around my shoulders, pulling me into a hug.

“What’s wrong, Ace?”

“Everything, Luke. Everything,” I say on a whisper and bury my face into his chest. “My date was awful, just the absolute worst experience ever. I have to deal with daily emails from Callie about that stupid reunion, and now my mom thinks I actually have a boyfriend and has probably bought him fucking Pop-Tarts for breakfast and a damn stocking to put on the mantel.”

“I only understood about half of what you just said, but…” He pauses and squeezes me tighter as he gently rubs his palm down my back. “I promise everything is going to be okay.”

I sigh into his chest. “God, I hope you’re right.”

We stand like that for a long minute, and he gently sways us from side to side, like we’re slow dancing in the middle of the hallway.

“Did you eat dinner?”

I shake my head.

“You want to come over, order some takeout, and watch Golden Girls?”

“No thanks. I think I’m just going to call it a night and go to bed.”

“No? To the Golden Girls? Sophia would be so disappointed in you right now.” His words urge a giggle to my lips, and he dramatically but also tenderly checks my forehead and cheeks for a fever. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” he asks, and I can’t stop myself from leaning into his touch and closing my eyes.

God, that feels good…

I lean into his touch more.

So good…

“Ava?” he asks, but his voice has grown oddly quiet.

I slowly open my eyes to find him staring down at me. Brown eyes to blue, I don’t know how long we stand there like that, still in an embrace, and his hand still caressing my cheek.

We’re just looking into each other’s eyes.

And my gaze wants to move to his lips.

Just to see what they look like right now…

“Ava?” Luke whispers my name again.

I don’t know what I want to say or what I want to do or what is even happening, but I look. At his lips. And then back at his eyes. And then back at his lips.

Uh…what are you doing…?

Yeah, what am I doing?

Shit. I blink my eyes once, twice, three times and gently disentangle myself from our embrace and put a few steps of distance between us.

Was I seriously just going to try to kiss my best friend?

No way. There’s no freaking way…right?

“You all right?” he asks again.

“Uh-huh,” I mutter, but I feel all out of sorts. Just…all over the damn place.

But when his eyes fill with concern, I force a little grin to my lips.

“I’m fine. Just tired is all.” I try to reassure him. And fuck, probably myself too. “It’s safe to say I’m ready to take a hot shower, go to bed, and pray that, tomorrow, Mr. Perfect will find me on TapNext,” I attempt to add levity to the conversation, but the words feel all wrong coming off my tongue.

His brow furrows. “Still giving online dating the old college try, huh?”

“I don’t know… I guess so?” I shrug, and just saying that out loud makes me feel desperate. Pathetic. Miserable. You name it, if it’s a bad emotion, I’m feeling it right now.

Pretty sure all that desperation almost made you kiss your best friend…

Lord Almighty, this whole “Find a Boyfriend” circus is starting to wear on me.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Promise,” I lie again, but it’s more for his benefit than mine.

Because I hate to see the worry in his eyes.

Because the last thing I want to do is push my crap onto him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” I ask and step toward my apartment to unlock the door.

“Actually, this weekend, I’m back and forth to London. But Tuesday, I’ll be around in the evening. I only have short flights to Miami.”

“Okay, well, be safe out there.” I offer him one last, small smile. “Night, Luke.”

“Night, Ava.”





November 16th

Ava



I should be working.

I should be using my Monday morning time wisely to, you know, go through work emails and walk around the museum and check out the latest art installations—that I’ve been waiting to see all set up for the past three months, mind you—in the South Wing.

But instead, I’ve made two phone calls to bakeries in Lakewood for my stupid high school reunion, and now, I’m busy hiding out in my office, browsing online dating profiles, and trying to avoid my mother’s persistent text messages and phone calls about my nonexistent boyfriend.

Her last message? Ava, you need to tell me his name! P.S. Does he prefer apple or cherry pie? Or maybe he doesn’t like pie at all and would like something completely different for Christmas desserts??

My response? Apple pie is fine, Mom.

But that’s mostly because Rose Lucie makes an insanely good apple pie. Like “move over Betty Crocker, there’s a new dessert sheriff in town” kind of good. It’s also the only kind of pie Luke and I ever eat anymore because he’s convinced himself it doesn’t break his NASA preparation diet as much as chocolate or pecan or even cherry since there are apples in it.