Page 11 of Stopped
“This place is like a time capsule,” EJ murmured, leading the way toward the register so we could order our lunch.
“Some things never change,” I replied, stealing a glance to see if he caught the double meaning of my comment. The shy tilt of his lips had me convinced he picked up on it and agreed. Or maybe that was just my cautious optimism coloring my perception.
We placed our order at the front, chuckling over the fact that we ordered the same thing, as we always had every time we splurged at Donny’s as kids—meatball parm on a hero, well-done fries, extra large fountain soda Coke. I suspected, like in the past, I'd be finishing off what EJ couldn't finish. The familiarity of it was so moving, I kept finding myself boggling and speechless.
After slipping into the old booth that had been “ours” since the first time we ever visited the eatery, a heavy but not unpleasant silence fell over us. There was so much to say but no words volunteered themselves. Honestly, I didn't want to ruin it by saying the wrong thing or pushing too hard. Part of me wanted to lay it all on the line and plead my case—we could be so good together. We’d always been great together. But I knew in my heart we could be even better. Fear and guilt silenced me before I could impulsively blurt the truth. The arrival of our lunch kept my tongue occupied thereafter.
One major difference between the past and present became immediately apparent once we started eating—teenage me hadn’t ever been as keenly aware of how fuckingattractivemy best friend was. I'd gotten a lot more comfortable with my sexuality over the years, even if I wasn't completely out of the closet. The result? My stupid brain was hyper focused on every subtle movement EJ made. Watching his mouth open wide to take a bite, tracking the sweep of his tongue over his lips, fixating on the way his cheeks hollowed each time he sucked sauce from his fingertips or took a drink through the straw.
The amount of concentration it took to keep from heavy breathing or squirming in my seat was enough to slow my eating. The heat building in my core was mirrored by the heat radiating from my cheeks. Sweat beaded on my brow as a tumult of arousal and shame swirled in my gut.
“Hey,” EJ murmured, his fingertips landing on the back of my hand and searing my skin like a firebrand. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I squeaked in response. After clearing my throat and taking a drink, I expelled a shaky breath. “I'm good. Great.”
He searched my face, clearly not buying any of my bullshit. With a stern tone, he called me out with only one syllable. “Will.”
“Sorry, sorry.” My eyes dropped to my plate. “You’re very distracting.”
The pressure of his foot pressing against mine under the table had me drawing an audible gasp through my lips. “Distracting?”
“Yeah. Ahem,” I coughed again. “Very. Sorry.”
“William,” he purred with a breathy whisper. “Look at me.”
My eyes obeyed, even if I knew deep down it would be a tragic mistake to comply. Cocoa brown eyes that carried a glint of mischief bored into my soul as soon as our gazes locked.
“Hi.” His grin was slow spreading and full of devilish intent. “There you are.”
“Jesus,” I muttered with baited breath.
He tiptoed his fingers toward my wrist with trepidation. “Tell me what's got you so flushed?”
“I… it’s… fuck it.” Drawing a deep breath, I shifted my hand and let our fingers twine together before squeezing his in a gentle grip. “I was so stupid. Blind until it was too late. You're just so fucking stunning.”
His breath inflated his chest with a sharp inhale.
“I know I said I wanted to try being friends, but that was a lie.” My tongue snuck out to swipe over my lower lip as I formulated my thoughts. “I know it’ll take time and I'm not going to push or pressure you, but I don't want to be friends. I want more.”
He gently swept his thumb over the back of mine. “Will, I wanted more too.”
Wanted. Past tense. My heart plummeted to the bottom of my gut and erased what little appetite I had left. I went to pull my hand away, but he clenched it tight in his grip.
“Hey, no. I'm not saying no. I'm just asking you to give me a little time.” He leaned to try and catch my averted eyes. “A couple weeks ago, I was still convinced you never wanted me and that I still hated you. I don't. But I need a little time to let the dust settle.”
“I'm sorry—”
“I accepted your apology this morning. Stop beating a dead horse.” He tugged my hand across the table and pressed his lips to my knuckles. “Let’s move forward. Slowly.”
Butterflies swooped and swirled again, fluttering in my tempest-tossed gut. “Deal. Slow and steady.”
I mirrored his movements, pulling his hand to my lips so I could impress a lingering kiss to the back of it. My actions earned me a rosy blush and shy smile. It was the biggest win of the last decade. I'd remember this moment for the rest of my life and then some—the moment we made a promise to see what the future held instead of lingering in the past.
We had to let go of one another's hands in order to resume eating, but underneath the table, the foot pressed tomine shifted higher and hooked behind my heel and pulled it closer. He crossed his heels behind my foot and kept them there, a simple and yet profound connection that neither of us commented on for fear of complicating it or making it awkward. Tangled legs, tangled hearts, tangled emotions kept us inextricably linked. Casual conversation flowed much more effortlessly because of this silent connection, like a protective bubble of promise and hope.
“Today has been great.” I reached for my sandwich with a renewed appetite. “What’s next? How can I help?”
“I'm doing a meet and greet party at Mom and Dad’s inn next weekend. Saturday. Do you think you’ll be able to come?”