Illicit ✔

four

"I have to tell you... I've thought a bit of you throughout the years."

Cora, who mimicked him and settled onto her own mattress, blushed. "Really? Well... if we're being honest, I have thought about you, too."

"Yeah?" His chestnut-colored brows brushed upwards. "I regret not better maintaining our friendship. I regret not continuing our conversations, our laughter. So many things I wish I could re-do."

She nodded. "Same here. We were so close, you and me. The best possible friends."

His expression darkened for a moment, his gaze almost sorrowful as he turned away and sighed. "I... okay, I lied. I didn't think about you a bit, I... thought about you a lot. Often. Too often. It bothered me how we left things, how I left things."

Coralie held her breath, stopping herself from belching out how he'd never departed from her mind, either. How she'd had to stuff down all her feelings for him because she worried he wouldn't feel the same and that her confession would ruin their friendship.

Maybe my silence was what ruined us?

"I..." She laughed and tipped sideways, hiding her face from the camera, afraid her cheeks had turned purple. "I did too. More often than often. I..." she laughed louder and returned in front of the lens, "I made up all these scenarios where I found you in London, and we had drinks with all our friends, but you and I, we... we clicked. Connected instantly, like before, as if no time had passed. And you told me... well, what you told me yesterday. This... thing between us. And now... now it's real. It's real? What the heck?"

His saddened expression faded as he smirked again, his eyes crinkling while he admired her. "That's incredible, because I did, too. And right now, it is as if no time has passed. Like we're still the two teens unaware we were in love, the two idiots goofing off in the bus or wreaking havoc in the school hallways."

She scoffed. "You wreaked havoc, not me!"

He was a class clown in those days. Smart, but never willing to be overly serious. He played pranks, he wrote comedy sketches, and he loved to jump-scare everyone, including teachers. She would always watch him and laugh her ass off, and Benjamin would laugh too, but never as openly as her.

Benjamin must have come to resent Ryan throughout the years. They'd stopped hanging out as much, they didn't play sports together anymore, and whenever Coralie brought RyRy up, Benjamin cringed—though he tried his hardest to be discreet about it. Coralie never understood why, never sensed his jealousy.

If I had, that would have been a sign, right?

So lost in her visions of the past, she hadn't realized she'd zoned out until Ryan cleared his throat. He was squinting at the camera, pensive, playing with the scruff on his jawline.

"Cora?"

"Huh?" She shook out of her stupor. "Sorry, I was... transported to our school years for a second. What's up?"

"When are you coming to London?" He switched positions to lie on his back, and held the phone up with both hands. "You were here a few years ago, and I... I wanted to reach out, but didn't dare. Surely you're due for another visit soon, right?"

The winged creatures stopped flapping about in her tummy. "Uh, funny you would ask—I'm coming next month with my roommate." She wanted to glare at him, wanted to remind him how he'd never come through, never met up with her, never even apologized for not showing up. But how could she be mad at him? How would she dare envision slapping that beautiful, blemish-free skin, when all she wanted to do was kiss it?

Oh shit. No, no, no, feelings, go away!

"I have to see you." He jerked up to a sitting position, bringing the phone close to his face. She could have sworn she felt his breath through the screen, and she imagined it was minty, refreshing, delicious.

She struggled not to roll her eyes. "Right, of course. You'll bail—"

"—No, I won't." He pulled away to show himself wagging his finger. "Not this time. Promise me, Cora. Promise me we'll make plans to meet up."

Coralie also heaved up, dangling her feet from the mattress. "Are you sure? What about, uh... your wife?" She flinched and frowned and fought the urge to apologize. "I mean—"

"—Don't you worry about those details," he said with a shrug, unfazed by the question. "This... you and me... it's too big to ignore. It's like a second chance, you know? To catch up, make up for lost time. I was in love with you, Cora. And everything is... coming back to me."

She stilled, her eyes about to soar out of their sockets. "You... I mean... really?"

He flashed her the sweetest smile, reanimating all the butterflies at once. "How do you Americans say it? Oh right. 'Duh'. Twelve years of emotions don't die easily. I can't pass up this opportunity to meet up with you. I can't, and I won't. There's no way I'll flake this time."

She narrowed her gaze. "Yeah?"

"Yes." He immobilized, and for a moment she thought their connection had fizzled and interrupted. "I promise. Let's get drinks or something, okay?"

Tingling tremors traipsed up and down her arms at the image of them coming together for drinks. Her belly bubbled with anticipation, her fingers trembled, her extremities numbed.

This was her fantasy—the dream she'd had over and over for years, with locations and clothing and circumstances that always changed, but he was always there. Walking up to her, picking her up, spinning her around, kissing her cheek, her forehead, her lips—

"Cora? Did you bug out?"

She fanned herself, praying for the heat on her face to subside. "No, sorry. I'm here." Chewing on her lower lip, she inclined her head once. "Yes, drinks. That would be phenomenal. I look forward to it."

Drinks—no harm in that, right?

They chatted for a little while longer, tossing memories back and forth, constantly complimenting one another, until their skin had turned a deep violet and they'd run out of vocabulary to use.

Once they hung up—with difficulty—she had trouble returning to reality, immersing herself into her daily life. She'd been so focused on their call that she hadn't heard Delilah leave, and it was three-thirty in the afternoon.

As she prepared herself aquick late lunch, she couldn't stop the usual negativity from seeping into hershort-lived elation. She wasn't stupid; Ryan wouldn't keep his promise. He'ddisappoint her, yet again. This tremendously hot and exquisitely intelligentman she'd missed so much wouldn't contact her when she was in London. He neverdid. She trusted him with her life, but not with this; not with theresponsibility of making her fantasies become reality.

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