Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Before I had time to wonder if I should shut my mouth and not say things like that to my best friend, his lips were on mine again. And I was gone, just like I had been the first time.
He reached his arms up and rested them on my shoulders, pulling me closer all over again.
Like he was hungry for it. Like he’d actually maybe enjoyed it, somewhere in this alcohol-soaked haze, just as much as I had.
If I hadn’t been expecting the first kiss, I sure as hell hadn’t been expecting this one. It confirmed, without a doubt, that he was indeed a good kisser. Fucking great. My cock was getting so hard under my jeans it hurt.
Tristan’s tongue slid out against my lips and I parted for him, letting him kiss me deeply and slowly.
For years, I hadn’t even let myself fantasize about this. Sometimes, in dreams, it would happen anyway, and I’d find myself kissing my best friend, but it never was anything quite as good as it felt now. I’d always wake up from the dreams guilty and horny, and I’d jerk myself off, stuff the memory away, and try to forget it.
I knew I could never forget this.
When he gently nibbled at my bottom lip I couldn’t help but groan a little again, and I bucked my hips forward without even thinking. Like my body was on autopilot and couldn’t help it. I reached back behind him and put a hand on the wood side of the pool table, steadying myself. I looked around, as if the world must have been holding its breath as we kissed, just like I was. But everything was the same. Nobody was staring at us. This was the real world, even if a tectonic shift had just happened for me.
Tristan pulled back, looking me in the eyes. “You okay, Blue?” he asked.
Am I okay?
Gee, I’m not sure, Tris.
Swear I’m about to fuckin’ come in my pants just from you kissing me, but sure, yeah, everything’s nice and chill.
“I’m fine. Yeah. Obviously,” I said, even though I knew I’d never been any good at lying. “All good.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Mhm. Bullshit.”
I tried to change the subject. “Well, I’m sure that redheaded guy believes we’re a couple now. How are you feeling?”
Tris raked his fingers through his hair, still watching me. “I just kissed you,” he said, like he was discovering some fact that shocked him. “God damn.”
Panic started to rise up inside me. “I know it’s weird. We don’t have to talk about it—”
“What’s weird is that it kind of didn’t feel weird at all, to me, though,” he mused.
I groaned. “Don’t say that.”
“What? Why?” Tris asked, his eyes meeting mine. His eyelids were droopy, and it killed me inside knowing that he might wake up and regret all of this as a drunken mistake.
“It was just a kiss,” I said, lying again. I knew it was more than just that, to me. But right now, I would say anything to make sure things would remain normal between the two of us. I was already going to lose Tris to Colorado at the end of summer—I didn’t need things to be weird long before then.
“Right,” he said, his eyes narrowing as he gazed out into the middle distance. “I don’t make a habit of kissing dudes, but with you, it just felt…”
He trailed off, unable to find the word he was looking for.
Yeah. Tris was clearly wasted. I’d known him for a long time, and I knew he was always good at finding the right words to say unless he was getting a little drunk.
“No biggie,” I said.
“One-Hundo Policy?” he asked, giving me puppy dog eyes. If drunken, sleepy puppy dog eyes were somehow sexy as fuck.
“One-Hundo Policy is that I think our drunk asses need to get in a taxi home and chug water, right about now,” I told him.
“Oh no, you’re back in your Mr. Old Man Responsible Mode,” Tristan protested. “I liked your Wild Dance Floor Mode, you know.”
I ignored him because if I looked at him again right now, with the eyes he was making at me, I was liable to rip his clothes off right here in the bar.
“We’ll swing back and grab my truck tomorrow morning. If we head back now, I think I’ve still got enough energy in me to make us some bacon tomato grilled cheese before bed,” I offered.
“Mmh. Jack Damien,” he said, “have I ever told you how much I love you? I mean, all of the time, not just when you make us bacon tomato grilled cheese. But definitely when you make us bacon tomato grilled cheese.”
“I think I’ve come to learn that grilled cheese sandwiches are always the best option for drunk Tristan, yes,” I said. “And I love you, too.”