More Than Friends (Friends, #2)(76)

I pin her against the wall with just my body and unleash my everything on her. We kiss like we never plan on coming up for air, and my hands wander. Search and explore. Reacquainting myself with her body. This body that feels like it belongs to me.

Only one word pounds through my head, throbs with my heart.

Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.

She’s mine.

And I’m never going to let her forget it.





It’s both a relief and pure torture, being in Jordan’s arms again. My back is against the door, his hard body pressed to mine, my legs wound around his hips. We kiss and kiss, and sometimes it feels like a battle. Like he’s trying to conquer me. But then the kiss softens, his lips lingering on mine, his tongue doing an achingly slow sweep...

I don’t ever want this to stop. But it has to. And when it stops, the pain will come again.

Just like before.

I break away from his lips first and he tries to kiss me again, but I turn my head away. “We can’t keep doing this.”

He touches my cheek, forces me to look at him once more. “Yeah, we can.”

His mouth settles on mine gently. Slowly he works his magic, his lips and tongue persuasive, until I’m a moaning, writhing mass of hormones. He rocks against me and I can feel him, hard and long and rubbing me in just the right spot. Our bodies fit perfectly; our mouths fit perfectly too. But we aren’t perfect. We are far from it.

How could something that feels this good end up hurting us so bad?

“Jordan.” I whisper his name against his lips, but he ignores me. I say it again, shoving at his shoulders, and finally he withdraws, his expression wondrous, a little dazed.

“What?”

“Put me down.” My voice is firm. My emotions are everywhere, but I need to keep it together. Remain strong. Remain in control.

He does as I ask, setting me on my feet, and I stare at his chest, see the tear stains soaked through his T-shirt. I release a shuddery breath and lift my gaze to his.

“We can’t keep doing this,” I repeat.

Jordan frowns. “Doing what?”

“Kissing each other. Ignoring each other. Arguing with each other. You can’t have it both ways, Jordan.”

His frown deepens, but he remains quiet.

“I need to know.” I take a deep breath and exhale loudly, trying to calm my tumultuous emotions, but it’s impossible. “How you feel. If you’re serious about this—about us. About me.”

His silence feels like an answer, and I tilt my head to the side, so very weary of the constant game playing. “Just let me out of here. Please.”

“I want to be,” he whispers, and I step back, confused.

“You want to be what?”

“Serious. About this. About us. About you.” He hesitates. “But I don’t know how.”

I shake my head. “That sounds like such a bullshit answer—”

He cuts me off. “It’s not. I don’t know how to be real with you. I don’t know how to be real with anyone. How to share myself with someone, how to show someone I—I care. I just can’t do it.”

His words make me hurt for him, but this isn’t my fault. I refuse to feel guilty for his past, for his lack of emotion. “I can’t be with someone who won’t tell me how he feels,” I whisper.

Again, his answer is silence.

He’s killing me.

“If you don’t know how to share yourself with me, then I don’t think this is ever going to work. I need you to trust me, Jordan,” I say quietly, speaking to my feet. I don’t want to look at him anymore.

I can’t.

“I don’t know how.” His words sound like an excuse.

And I’m done with excuses.

He shifts away from the door and opens it, silent permission for me to leave. So I take it, bolting out of that bathroom so fast, I practically trip over my own feet. I stagger down the short hall, end up in the kitchen, which is crawling with all sorts of people. I see Ryan sitting on a chair in the breakfast nook and Livvy is perched on his lap. They look cozy, like a real couple, and I’m taken over by a sudden wave of envy.

I wish I was sitting on Jordan’s lap, talking and flirting and letting everyone in the whole damn school know that we’re together.

But it will never be that easy with him. And while I’m all for fighting for love and that kind of stuff, it’s hard when the one that I want doesn’t seem to know what he wants.

It feels like I’m fighting a losing battle.

“Amanda! Come here!” Livvy waves me over, and I go to her and Ryan. “Eli is telling everyone you kissed him,” she says when I reach them.

Oh, God. I completely forgot what we did—or more like what we didn’t do. What does that say about me? I go from almost kissing one boy to actually kissing another in a matter of minutes. But that last boy, I care about. A lot. “Um, well. We didn’t.”

“So he’s lying,” Livvy says, sounding pissed.

“No, not exactly. We—sort of kissed.” That’s a nice way to put it, though why I’m trying to make it seem like more, I don’t know.

Livvy’s jaw drops open. And so does Ryan’s. “Seriously?” she squeaks.

“So he didn’t lie,” Ryan mutters, looking shocked.