The Roommate Agreement(48)

Wanted to know.

“If you feel that way,” I said in a scratchy voice. “Why did you take someone else on a date the other night?”

Shame flashed in his eyes. “I met her at the gym. I wanted to stop feeling this way about you. I took her out because I thought it would help me forget how I feel about you.”

“Do you want to forget how you feel about me?”

“No.” He reached for me before he dropped his hand. “No, Shelbs, I don’t. Even if you tell me I’m stupid and our friendship is more important, I don’t want to forget.”

I brought one shoulder up toward my face and turned away, looking at the coffee table. It held an old coffee cup, two empty glasses, and a Pop-Tart wrapper I knew didn’t belong to me.

It made my lips twitch.

“You need to learn to hide your junk food wrappers,” I said absently.

“If I were anyone else, I’d be offended by that deflection.”

“Not a deflection. An observation.” I focused on it as I spoke. “Would you really risk our friendship for the chance of something more?”

“Honestly, I already have.”

My head bobbed in agreement. “You know this is hard for me, right? My instinct right now is to get up and lock myself in my room where you can’t find me. I want to run away.”

“I know.”

“I want to hide and pretend this conversation isn’t happening.”

“I know.”

“I’d rather write you a letter.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw his lips twitch.

“I know.”

“Because I feel the same.”

He stilled. “You feel the same?”

I nodded jerkily. “Everything you said, I feel the same. And it scares me because nothing scares me more than losing you as my best friend. You’ve been there for as long as I can remember, and I don’t want to lose that.”

“Shelby.”

I swallowed.

Jay framed my face with his hands. I turned away, so he moved, dropping to the floor, moving to where he could look into my eyes instead. “Nothing has to change,” he said with a small smile. “We don’t have to do anything about this. I can go stay with my parents instead. We don’t ever have to be anything other than best friends, you know that, right?”

“I do,” I whispered.

“Good.” He stroked his thumbs across my cheeks. “I will never make you do anything you don’t want to do. Except unclog the drain in the bathtub.”

My lips twitched, and when I glanced up, my gaze got stuck on his.

He’d not only served me his heart on a silver platter, but it looked awfully like he’d offered me his soul, too.

Reaching up, I laid my hand over his on my cheek. His palm was so rough yet smooth at the same time. Like he used moisturizer right after he lifted weights as heavy as I was.

I kind of wanted to nuzzle against it like a kitten and ask if he’d pet me.

“Sleep on it,” he suggested. “Sleep on this conversation, and we’ll revisit in the morning. I’m not at work until midday. Georgia is opening for the first time tomorrow with Oli.”

“Okay,” I replied, even though I knew I wouldn’t sleep a wink.

“Just don’t make pancakes, okay? Actually, if you’re friend-zoning me, make them. Then make them to warn me. But can you make them before I come into the kitchen so I know what to expect?”

Despite the emotion hurtling through my body, I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Deal.”

? ? ?

Let it be known that Shelby Daniels was a troll.

That’s right. I was going to own the fuck out of that label as I mixed chocolate-chip pancake batter.

I figured turnabout was fair play. Jay had made me talk emotions, so now I was going to get my own back, Shelby-style.

“Dancing with a Stranger” by Sam Smith and Normani was bursting from my phone, and I sang along and twirled through the kitchen to the beat. Which was, actually, a lot of hip swaying like I was freakin’ Shakira.

Sometime around two in the morning, I’d made my choice.

If I didn’t try now, I’d forever hate myself. If I didn’t tell Jay that it was worth pursuing something, I’d forever be plagued with thoughts of what-if.

I hated those.

They were often the basis of my plots but in real life? Not a fan.

We had to figure it out, though. It wouldn’t be easy. We lived together. Our friendship was important. But what could one date hurt?

It couldn’t.

I tossed one pancake onto the stack and poured another, swaying from side to side.

“Oh, shit, I smell pancakes.”

I grinned, dipping my head so he couldn’t see. “Good morning.”

“Is it?” Jay said warily.

I peered over my shoulder as the pancake batter bubbled. His hair was sticking up at all angles, and he wore his uniform lazy outfit: sweat shorts and a t-shirt. He had the look of someone who’d just woken up and come running to the kitchen.

“The sun is shining. There’s a bird outside who finally stopped singing when I did, and I’m making pancakes. Is there anything bad about this morning?”

“Well, you’re making pancakes. Also, you’re singing. That’s not good at any point of the day. Especially not the shower.”