The Kiss: An Anthology About Love and Other Close Encounters(54)

After the longest of pauses, he finally spoke. “I know.”

Somehow, that didn’t make me feel any better. If anything, it made me feel worse.

“What the hell do you mean, you know?” I snarled. “You mean you’ve been using me all this time—”

Liam winced. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Then explain it to me.” I sat, arms and legs crossed, right foot tapping furiously against my left leg. I couldn’t have made my body language more defensive if I’d tried.

“You’re my best friend… I don’t want to lose our friendship.”

“That’s the most pathetic thing I’ve ever heard. Try again.”

“It’s the truth!” he snapped, glaring at me.

“Whatever we are, Liam, we’re not friends.” Friends didn’t use each other, didn’t take advantage of someone’s feeling just to get an easy lay. Friends weren’t that cruel to one other.

“What are we then?” he demanded. “You put a name on it, since you’re the one who’s so keen to label us.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I countered.

“I know you’ve told everyone about us. I know what you want—”

“Is that such a terrible thing?”

“What if it goes wrong?” His eyes were wide, haunted by untold fears, and for a split-second I saw into his very soul, before the shutters came down and he locked me out.

“Is that all that’s stopping you?” I asked, heart in my mouth and hardly daring to hope.

“Isn’t it enough? We’ve known each other since we were five, Toby. What if we break up after six weeks and I never see you again?”

“What if we don’t? What if everything works out and fifty years from now we’re celebrating our golden anniversary?”

Liam laughed, cutting some of the tension from the room. “You think you’d put up with me for that long?”

“Forever,” I said, perfectly seriously. I hardly remembered my life before Liam entered it, and couldn’t imagine a future without him.

“How…” He swallowed thickly. “How would that even work?”

“You’ve had relationships before,” I replied sardonically. “Cards on the table, Liam. I love you. I love you and it’s killing me. If you don’t feel the same way then I’ll understand, but you can’t treat me like all your other mates, you can’t expect me to sit back and watch you pick up other guys when we’re out. And you can’t pick me up and drop me whenever you feel like it, either! I deserve better than that.”

He was nodding frantically. “I know, I know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not enough. ‘Sorry.’ I don’t care that you’re sorry, Li, we have to stop doing it! And,”—I took a deep breath—“and if you don’t want anything more, you need to give me time to accept it.”

“Would you?” he asked curiously. “Accept it, that is?”

I fought to keep my face from breaking and revealing just how much it hurt to hear him say he didn’t want me. “Yes,” I said thickly, choking on the word. “I, I think I was starting to, before tonight.”

“We could still be friends?”

“Yes, dammit!” I closed my eyes, concentrated on the sharp sting of my nails digging into my palms, the sensation grounding me in the present. “But I can’t, I can’t see you. Not for a while.”

“For how long?”

“I don’t know, Liam!” How long does it take to mend a broken heart? “Just, please, go. Please.”

“Now?”

“Yes.” I ground out the word through gritted teeth, my eyes still closed. The room was utterly silent. Liam wasn’t speaking, but he wasn’t leaving, either.

I startled as he touched my knee, the heat from his palm branding me through my jeans. When I opened my eyes, I looked straight into his.

“What if I don’t want to leave?” he whispered.

I was trembling, I noticed with strange detachment. My hands were curled into tight fists, palms sweating. I’d crossed my legs so tightly my foot was going numb. On his knees before me, Liam tipped his head to look deeper into my eyes, a small smile teasing the corners of his mouth.

“Wha-what?”

“Fifty years, you say?” He scraped his teeth over his bottom lip, flushing out the colour. Outside, a car turned into my street, momentarily illuminating the room with its headlights. It would take less than a second for me to lean forward and claim the kiss I knew he was thinking about giving me.

“Is this a joke?” I asked weakly, clinging onto my last shreds of strength and dignity by my fingernails.

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

“Why, then?” I had to know, had to be sure he was really considering giving us a chance. I had to know this wasn’t just another cheap ploy to get me into bed.

“Because I’ve been going crazy missing you these last two months. Because whoever I’m with, I always come back to you. Because maybe you’re right that this can work and I’ve been an idiot all these years for being afraid.”

We shared a small, indulgent laugh at that, the idea of Liam being afraid of anything too absurd to contemplate.