Don't Look Down

twenty-one: don't kiss me again

So I sum it all up in a single sentence. "Friends don't cock block friends, Seth."

"Ellie-"

"No, don't Ellie me. I've never once cock blocked you."

He holds up his hands. "In my defense, I've never brought anyone back here."

"Doesn't mean you're not hooking up with girls at their places. And if I was around there, I wouldn't cock block."

I frown at him, wishing he was a better friend or, even better, that he wasn't so confusing all the time. He's disappointed me and after his pathetic show tonight I hate feeling this way after being supportive of his secrets.

When I lower my hands to pick up my sandwich again, he says, "He was a coke addict."

I shake my head. "Not a chance."

"He was." His voice is soft, apologetic even. "His collar was drenched in sweat, his eyes were bloodshot, and his fingers were twitching against his pants. All are dead giveaways."

Brett had used the bathroom right before we left. Our conversation had flown swiftly at the bar because he'd done most of the talking for me, but I'd assumed it was due to his self-confidence. And he'd been fidgety all evening. I just hadn't noticed because I'd been too blinded by my goal of getting him into bed.

The thought is bitter and-dammit. It was so much easier being cross with Seth before he morally cock-blocked me.

"I liked you better before I knew you were a crime lord's attack thug." Setting my elbows on the table, I throw my head into the palms of my hands.

He ignores my dig. "So instead of getting all huffy and puffy, you should be thanking me."

He's gloating now, his apologetic undertone nowhere to be found, and it reminds me I'm still irritated with him. I lift my face. "Sure, just come on over and I'll pucker my lips."

Recognition dawns the same time his gaze lowers to my mouth. "So that's what this is about."

"No."

He snickers his skepticism, his gaze lingering.

"Alright, a little," I admit, lifting my chin. "Look, I know I'm supposed to be the 'cool girl' who's okay with some meaningless kiss, but I'm not. My brain works too hard to let something like that go. I overanalyze everything. And for the past week and a half I've been trying to wrap my head around why you would do it after we're both trying so hard not to ruin this friendship."

"I was curious and wanted to try it out." Although he shrugs in nonchalance, his focus remains locked on my lips. Then he winks. "You exceeded expectations by the way."

It's like smashing my head into a brick wall.

"I wasn't aware I was being judged."

"Lighten up. It was just a kiss." He leans across the table to link his fingers through mine. A few breadcrumbs catch between them, but he doesn't seem to care. "I do stupid shit sometimes."

Well that's an understatement and a half. "I know."

His eyes link with mine, a sea of endless sorrow. "I'm sorry if I stepped over boundaries and made it seem like this friendship of ours isn't important. It is. I'm still trying to figure out how it works."

I want to tell him he smashed through those boundaries and sparked this persistent hunger inside me that can't be satisfied. That Brett had been a silly attempt at a substitute for the person I truly want on top of me. But I can't. Not when the kiss meant far less to him than maintaining a healthy friendship.