Wanting Zeke had become a habit I couldn’t break, and a dream I couldn’t seem to stop coveting.
His blue eyes turned stormy and turbulent as he stared at me. “It’s not happening, Lia. I wanted to take you out to the bars so that I could watch out for you on your birthday. I don’t want this, and neither do you. Being drunk makes everything look different. You won’t feel the same way in the morning. Trust me. I’d rather have you angry right now than for you to hate me for the rest of your life because I took advantage of you when I knew you were hammered.”
I closed my eyes as he leaned forward and kissed my forehead in the same friendly way he always did.
Disappointment flooded my entire being. He was wrong. I wasn’t going to feel differently in the morning. I’d learn to hide my emotions again when it came to Zeke, but those feelings would always be there. I could only hope that when I was sober, I’d be capable of burying them so deeply that they never saw the light of day again.
He gently tugged my arms away from him and stood as he grumbled, “Your phone is on the bedside table. Call me if you need me.”
I already needed him, but he’d just firmly and soundly pushed me away. “Okay,” I mumbled, feeling totally dejected.
Leave it alone, Lia. It’s not his fault that he doesn’t feel the same way. If all he wants is friendship, just be his friend. It’s better than losing him completely.
Zeke didn’t say another word as he exited the bedroom. I heard the apartment door open and close a few moments later.
I had no doubt he’d locked up since he had a key, and Zeke was nothing if not thorough in his desire to make sure I was always safe.
I flopped back onto my pillow again, and instantly regretted the abrupt motion because it made me dizzier than hell.
My emotions were running rampant, and now that Zeke was gone, I didn’t even attempt to suppress any of them. Tears leaked from my eyes as I realized how much it hurt that I’d just been soundly rejected by the guy I wanted more than anyone else in the world.
He doesn’t want me back.
I let out a strangled sob, and then another, releasing all my pain and tormented grief before I literally cried myself to sleep.
The next morning, Zeke did come back with breakfast, just like he’d promised, and I was definitely hung over.
My feelings for Zeke hadn’t changed, but I was mortified that I’d confessed them all to him, and even more embarrassed because he’d very firmly let me know that he didn’t see me as anything other than a friend.
For God’s sake, I’d blatantly thrown myself at him, and forced the poor guy to back away in utter horror.
I knew Zeke thought I didn’t remember what had happened the night before, and because it eased my embarrassment, I wasn’t about to correct that false assumption.
Zeke and I were friends. Good friends. Best buddies. And the line I’d crossed the night before was horrifying to me the following morning, once the liquor wasn’t taking away all of my inhibitions anymore.
I stuffed the adolescent emotions I’d revealed the night before back inside me so forcefully that I knew I’d never bring up the subject again. Like it or not, I had to accept that Zeke and I weren’t meant to be anything other than best friends. Ever.
I had Zeke’s friendship, and because he wanted nothing to do with a more intimate relationship, our friendship was always going to have to be enough.
I couldn’t say that I didn’t feel a little awkward after my drunken confession, but a week later, Zeke’s college break was over, and he headed back to Harvard.
I threw myself into work, hyper focused on my own goals.
Luckily, the mistake I’d made on my twenty-first birthday was soon just a crappy memory that I didn’t allow myself to think about, and my friendship with Zeke remained solid.
Staying in the friendship zone was enough for many years. I managed to successfully convince myself that my carnal feelings for Zeke had just been the product of a very painful crush that went away as I got older and more mature.
I fooled myself with that perfectly rational explanation until a time, many years later, when I just couldn’t lie to myself anymore…
Zeke
The Present…
I looked at my watch impatiently for the sixteenth time in the last five minutes, and tried not to hate myself for giving in to that urge.
It was exactly eleven forty-eight a.m., and ten damn seconds.
It had been exactly fifteen seconds since I’d last checked the time.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
“Son of a bitch!” I cursed under my breath, and scowled at the dials of the Rolex I was wearing.
Jesus, Conner. Relax. It’s not like your dad’s vintage Rolex Submariner is making that sound.
I let out a massive breath that I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding, and put my hand back on my thigh, assuring myself I would not check the time…again.
Maybe my late father’s cherished watch wasn’t actually making those daunting sounds, but the action of looking at the time seemed to be the trigger that set off that unnerving noise in my head.
I’d heard it seventeen times now, every damn time I compulsively checked to see how much longer it would be until…
Shit! I had twelve damn minutes before my best friend started to saunter down the aisle on her way to the altar.
The ceremony might be…what? Twenty minutes…tops? Possibly less since it was going to be a community church type of ceremony?
Lia Harper was my best friend, and had been for approximately fourteen years now. I could manage to get through the next thirty-two minutes without doing something completely irrational, right?
I looked around the church, hoping for some kind of distraction. It was impossible not to notice how sparsely populated it was on the bride’s side compared to the groom’s side of the church.
Since Lia had no close relatives who were still living, it made sense that the only people present on her side were some of her friends.
Had it really been necessary to do the whole bride’s side/groom’s side thing, though? It seemed pretty ridiculous that none of the people packed like sardines on the other side of the church were willing to do overflow on Lia’s side.
Apparently, Stuart’s relatives and friends would rather sit on each other’s laps than get comfortable on an empty bench over here.
I wasn’t exactly surprised since Lia’s fiancé was, quite honestly, a pretentious prick. It wasn’t a shocker that Stuart’s family and friends were exactly the same way.
It just pissed me off because doing things this way seemed like a direct snub to Lia in my eyes, and the bride-to-be could hardly avoid noticing the lopsided seating arrangement when she walked down the aisle.