Not that he’d ever know that truth, no matter how many times he asked.
Shit. I needed to get away, and I needed to do it quickly. Hello, stage left. There’s my exit. End scene. Let’s start over tomorrow.
“Whatever, Banks. You can watch Dawson’s Creek alone tonight!” With that, I stormed off in the direction of my house.
I wasn’t actually mad—I just didn’t trust myself around him any longer that night.
His laughter seemed to echo all around me. Flashes of him lying on his bed played on repeat, and my legs moved faster, hoping to put enough distance between us.
“Or not at all! I hate that chick show anyway!” he called after me. “I’ll go home and watch Baywatch instead!”
I bristled at the thought. It was silly because he was just egging me on. Ever since Dawson’s Creek started earlier that year, we’d both been hooked. We’d watched every episode together, and even though he complained at times, I knew he secretly loved it.
And that was why I was not surprised in the least when, just two hours later, Jeremy knocked on my window.
See? We were already learning. Not that he’d have interrupted anything. That’s another story for another time. When? How about never? Let’s just say I finally took care of business.
So much for thinking time or distance would help stamp out my desire. As soon as he climbed through the window, my eyes went to his groin. I was disappointed that it was covered up.
Don’t get me wrong though. I wasn’t ready for sex with Jeremy—or anyone. I wasn’t ready for anything physical. But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t have minded another peek. Look, my curiosity had been piqued, and I wanted a closer glance. Even if it was just anatomical examination… Clinical… For research purposes. Yep, that’s what I told myself, trying not to feel like a perv for wanting to check out my best friend’s package.
I shook my head clear of the thought as he slid his shoes off and settled onto the bed beside me as he usually did. We assumed our positions—him sprawled out with his arm open wide, and me curling up beside him. He absentmindedly ran his fingers through my hair as I cuddled up against his warm chest. It’d always been innocent and friendly.
Until just then.
Nothing about our snuggling felt platonic, even if the whole feelings thing was completely one-sided. Ugh, I felt like I was in an old episode of bad television—the girl with unrequited feelings. Yep, that was me.
If Mom and Dad had any idea of how I was starting to feel about Jeremy, or what had transpired a couple of hours ago, we’d be ordered out of the bedroom, on separate couches, with Lexi between us and Dad glaring at Jeremy the entire time, waiting for him to make an inappropriate move. Don’t worry, Dad. Your little girl was safe. He’d never made a move, and I was pretty sure he never planned on it. I was the only predator in the bed that night, and instead of doing anything I wanted to, I fixated my eyes on the television as Joey and Dawson tried to figure out where to go with their relationship after an amazing—and unexpected—first kiss between best friends.
It was silly, but I was insanely jealous of that kiss. I wanted that kiss. However, I was never going to get that kiss, and boy, did that blow.
Like I said, my life was beginning to feel like a television show. Only I wasn’t Joey, and I wasn’t kissed senseless by the boy of my dreams. Thanks again, Chris. Jerk.
“What were you so excited about telling me earlier?” he asked during a commercial break.
In all the excitement, I’d completely forgotten about the whole reason I’d burst into his room. His own version of bursting had distracted me.
God, I had to stop thinking about it.
It took a moment for me to remember what had even happened earlier that afternoon. When I did, I sat up and beamed at him. He smiled at me, those freaking dimples deepening. I could’ve stared at those dimples all day. More than anything, I wanted to kiss them. Then his lips while my hands held his face, my thumbs pressing into those little indentations as I held his mouth to mine. Maybe if I just did it, with no one there to distract us, then I could blame the show. Just wanting to see what would happen if we did what they had done. I had just started to lean down when his voice stopped me.
“Sierra?” he prompted, pulling me out of my gaze.
Oh crap. That was a close one. I cleared my throat and clapped my hands.
“You’re looking at the newest Raiders cheerleader!” I informed him proudly.
His eyes went wide, lighting up at my words while the corners of his mouth turned up. “Seriously?” He lifted up and rested on his elbows, the excitement emanating from him.
It warmed my heart. Still, I told myself not to read too much into it. We did everything together. It made sense he’d be happy that we’d have this, too.
I nodded. His smile grew wider.
“Seriously,” I confirmed.
“So, you’ll be at all my games?” he asked, awe transforming his face. As if I wouldn’t have gone to them anyway.
“Every. Single. One.” I drew the words out for added emphasis.
Not that he’d needed it. He was already sitting up and gesticulating wildly with his hands, doing his own sort of silent cheer.
“You have no idea how happy this makes me, Sullivan. It’s freaking perfect. Me on the field, kicking ass and taking names. And you on the sidelines, cheering me on and wearing my number on your cheek.”
The truth was I did know. Because I felt the same way. But, instead of admitting it, I merely shrugged.
“You know the deal, Banks. Where you go, I go.”
“And don’t you ever forget it.”
I couldn’t if I’d tried.
I just hoped it wouldn’t bite me in the ass later on.
As a rule of thumb, I never got embarrassed. It was a blessing and a curse. A blessing because I did some pretty hilarious stuff. A curse because, half the time, I ended up grounded. But I was me, and embarrassment wasn’t in my genetic makeup. I’d tried blaming it on my parents once. You can guess how well that one went over. Here’s a clue: My punishment doubled. But even Dad hadn’t blamed me too harshly for trying. Mom, however, had not been amused.
There wasn’t a dare I wouldn’t accept. Well, aside from that one time Chris had dared me to moon Sierra while our moms were sitting beside her on the beach. I was a jokester, but I wasn’t stupid. But, when he’d bet me that I wouldn’t prank call our fifth-grade teacher looking for Jack Hoff, I’d picked up the landline right away. Fortunately, Mrs. Miller hadn’t had caller ID. Or she at least hadn’t cared enough to call back. I’d figured she was used to it, but that hadn’t stopped us from looking up random numbers in the phone book and telling stupid jokes to whomever answered.
When he told the entire seventh-grade class that I had a crush on Mandy Simpson and she called me a troll she’d never touch, I didn’t care. It didn’t bother me. I wasn’t humiliated in the least bit. In fact, that crush was, well, crushed. Thanks, Chris. I later found out that I’d dodged a bullet with that one.
One time, I even got caught peeing off the side of the pier. Did I care? Nope.
But, when Sierra Sullivan barged into my room right in the middle of a hand job session, I was mortified. For the first time, I knew what embarrassment felt like. It was the worst feeling in the world, and I didn’t know to react. Clearly, Sierra didn’t know how to, either, because she froze, her eyes never leaving my dick.