Dark Wild Night (Wild Seasons #3)(23)
Author: Christina Lauren

She carefully lies down on the sliver of space in front of me, the back of her body pressed along the entire front of mine. And well . . . this is also new.

“You’ve made me your big spoon,” I say, hoping to ease some of the strange tension that has settled between us.

She reaches back to pinch my hip, and I grab for her hand, intending to stop her but somehow ending up with my arm around her ribs. We lay there in silence for a moment, the sound of the movie ringing around the room, and when I shift slightly, she slots her legs with mine.

Oh, fuck me.

No longer interested in the movie, I close my eyes, feeling myself sink farther into the couch as she traces shapes along the back of my wrist, her nails scratching, slowly at first and then slower, slower, until they feel more like caresses than casual touch.

I’ve been so careful around her, careful to keep the depth of feelings from ever being too visible. I don’t want to push her. I don’t want to ruin what we have, but right now it feels like we’re balancing on the tip of a mountain; if we lean too far one way we could slide into something wonderful that I’ve wanted for what feels like years. But if this is only a friendship for her, and I step the wrong way, I could fall off the cliff into a void: without her friendship or her love.

I’m not sure I’m willing to risk that. I need to let her decide.

“Lola?” I say, and I hear every one of my fears and doubts in those two, brief syllables.

The entire length of her body tenses, starting at her shoulders and moving down like a wave, until she’s pushing herself to sit.

“Holy crap, I didn’t realize it was so late,” she says, and stands from the couch. “I have panels I want to finish. I should get back to Austin tonight, too.”

It takes me a moment to catch up with how quickly the moment has shifted. “You can call him from here,” I tell her, watching her absently tie her hair into a knot atop her head. I don’t want her to go. “I’ll stay out of your way.”

She moves to the kitchen and I can see her shadow against the wall. Lola pauses as she gathers her things. “It’s cool,” she says lightly. “I need to think about what I want to say, anyway.”

I stand and wait while she retrieves her keys and slips her shoes on at the door.

“You’ll text me when you get home?”

She nods, smiling up at me. “Of course. And thanks for dinner.”

“It was no problem.”

She swings her keys around her index finger and looks back toward the living room. “Thanks for more than just dinner,” she says, staring at where we were just cuddled together. There’s a carcass composed entirely of sexual tension lying abandoned on the couch. I wonder if she can see it, too. “Thanks for being so badass. I know my life is a whole lot of crazy right now and you’ve got your own stuff going on. I appreciate that you put up with me making you be my big spoon tonight.”

I smile but don’t reply, because honestly, what can I say? That I’d put up with crazy around the clock, if it meant it was her crazy?

Finally she turns, reaching for the door. “You’re like my blanket fort.”

“I’ve been called worse things,” I tell her.

With a small smile, Lola pushes herself up on her toes and leans in, pressing her lips quickly to my cheek. “Night, Olls.”

“Night, Lola Love.”

And then she’s gone.

Chapter FIVE

Lola

WHAT DOES ONE do after a night of intimate cuddling with a friend on a couch and then going home to a very cold, very empty apartment?

Well, first one pulls one’s vibrator from the bedside table. But the next day, one goes directly to said friend’s store and pretends not to watch him all day.

I honestly don’t know what is wrong with me. I vacillate so starkly between keep it in the friend zone and jump him immediately that I feel a little locked up every time I think about it. And the fact that, last night, Oliver didn’t seem all that opposed to the cuddling and the flirting? Encouraging, even? I just . . . I honestly don’t know what to do, and the person I most want to talk it out with—Oliver himself—is also the last person I want to talk it out with. I want to push, just a tiny bit, to see if things have changed and he’ll make a move. It’s just that I can never quite tell what’s going on in his head.

“Do you live here now, Lola?” Not-Joe asks from behind the counter as I walk past him to the back of the store. “Because if so, I could show you how to run the register so I can go smoke a blunt.”

“I heard that,” Oliver mumbles from across the store. He looks up as I pass and gives me a little smile.