Page 77 of Truck Me

3. We may have chemistry, but I’m not convinced he really likes me. He likes me. He really, really likes me. I feel it in the way he touches me and kisses me.

4. It’s just sex to him. I don’t care what I told him. I don’t do just sex. We have a connection that goes so much deeper than just the physical chemistry between us.

5. He’s too close to Rayne. Having a casual relationship could make that awkward. His closeness to Rayne is good. It means my family already likes him and will accept him in my life as something more than just my friend.

6. He’s my next-door neighbor for the foreseeable future. Again, that could be awkward. He’s right next door. I can see him every day if he’s home.

I stare at my new list and my eyes focus on one new line I added.

As something more than just my friend.

My heart rate kicks up, and a surge of panic rushes through me. I slam my journal closed and push to my feet.

What in the hell am I doing?

I pace around the living room, worrying my bottom lip. This isn’t the life I want for myself.

I may have moved home for the foreseeable future but a huge part of me is still hanging onto my life in Chicago. I miss my fancy clothes and designer shoes and attending parties or going to happy hour at the martini bar for drinks after a grueling day at work. I miss my job and my crazy high-profile clients. I miss Sierra and my apartment.

Or should I say Brad’s apartment?

I may not want Brad anymore, but I still want the life I thought he and I were building.

Don’t I?

Needing my best friend, I grab my phone and dial Sierra’s number. She answers on the second ring.

“I need you to talk me off this ledge,” I say before she even gets out the word hello.

She chuckles. “Let me guess … The sexy lumberjack next door?”

“He’s not a lumberjack.”

“It’s a fantasy, Char. Go with it. Besides, tell me you’re not picturing him shirtless, swinging an ax. The curves and ridges of his naked chest and arms dripping with sweat. I bet that’d be a sight to behold.”

“Oh my God. Will you hush,” I whisper-yell as if there’s someone around that might overhear our conversation. “I am not picturing him like that.”

“Because you don’t need to. You’ve already seen the goods.”

I let out a frustrated growl, and she laughs harder.

“You’re impossible. I don’t know why I called you.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll stop. What ledge are you on and how can I help get you off it?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh. “I don’t even want to tell you anymore.”

“Oh come on. You know I’m just picking on you. I’ll stop. Tell me what’s going on with the hottie next door.”

I’d been pacing around the house ever since I dialed her number, and I suddenly find myself in the kitchen. I fall into a chair at the table and drop my head back. “I think I agreed to date him. Sorta. Maybe.”

“How do you sorta maybe date someone?”

“Well, we kinda did it again.” I wince at how weak and tentative my voice sounds. “And then a third time. After that, we both admitted that we liked the other. The next thing I know, we’re agreeing to keep doing it while not doing it with anyone else. Is that dating? We used the word exclusive, but can you just exclusively fuck someone without it being considered dating, or is that still dating? I’m completely out of my element here and don’t know what to think. I think I’ve lost my mind.”

“Whoa! Calm down. Take a deep breath and relax.” She pauses for a moment before she asks, “Are you breathing? I can’t hear anything.”

“Yes.” I squeeze my eyes closed to fight back the tears stinging the corners. “This is way too soon. I’m not ready for this.”