Page 50 of Only and Forever
“You thought I was hot,” I tell her. “Does that mean... did you have a crush on me?”
Tallulah drops back, palms settling on her thighs. She’s not as close as she was, but she’s still close enough, I could lean forward and kiss her in a heartbeat, if I wanted to.
Ifshewanted me to.
Gracefully, Tallulah leans sideways into the sofa, untucking her legs, letting them dangle, her knees brushing mine. “Define ‘crush.’ ”
I narrow my eyes, suspicious of this. “Youdefine crush.”
Tallulah shrugs, then pulls her phone from her pocket. After opening it, then typing, she says, eyes on her screen, “According to Merriam-Webster—”
“I don’t want Merriam-Webster’s definition,” I tell her. “I want yours.”
She peers at me intensely, quiet for a minute, before she tosses her phone aside on the sofa and says, “I thought you were cute, handsome even. But I don’t think I ever let myself know you well enough to develop a crush.”
It doesn’t escape me that she still hasn’t defined “crush.” But I’m too taken by what she’s said to call her on it. I stare at her, heart thudding hard against my ribs. “Why do you say it that way? That you didn’tletyourself know me?”
She’s quiet as she peers at the back of the sofa, an irregularity in the linen where the fabric is bunched into a knot in the weave. “Because it was a choice, not to know you. Because, if I had... I would have had a crush on you. And I didn’t want to.”
“Why not?” I press. “You’re still not really answering me. You haven’t even told me what ‘a crush’ means to you.”
Tallulah glances at me sharply. “You and your damn questions. Fine. I define ‘a crush’ as wanting someone unattainable. Okay? Now, your turn. Did you have a crush onme?”
My brain whirs; my heart sprints in my chest as I stare at her, more of those “damn questions,” as she calls them, flying through my thoughts.
Why didn’t she want to have a crush on me?
Given how she defined crush, why was I unattainable to her?
“Viggo.” She nudges my knees with hers. “Do what you do best. Talk.”
Biting my lip, I drum my fingers on the couch. My fingertips are barely an inch from hers. “I thought you were stunning, sophisticated, so put together. You were mysterious and quiet, always bringing in those thick books with their bloodred covers.”
Her mouth lifts at the corner.
“I was distracted by you,” I tell her. “I swore you were doing it on purpose somehow, trying to sabotage my grade in that class, get a leg up on me.”
A huff of a laugh leaves her. “Oh yeah, my entire personality and appearance were designed solely to fuck with your GPA.”
“I didn’t say it was rational.” My fingers brush hers. Her fingers brush mine, too, then slide between them, up over my knuckles.
“You were distracted by me, huh?” Her eyes meet mine. “What does that mean?”
I stare at her, heat flooding my cheeks. The tiny, sober part of my brain is screaming at me that this isnotwhat I should be doing with my platonic roommate, but the vast majority of me isnotsober and does not give a single shit. “I thought about you a lot back then, Tallulah. I’ll admit that.”
“Thought about me... how?” She bites her lip. “Physically?”
I try to hold out, but I can’t help it. I nod.
Her eyebrows lift. A soft, tiny smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, accentuating her beauty mark. “Reeeally?” She sounds annoyingly pleased.
I’m too turned on to care that she might be reveling in having the upper hand, too relieved to finally have admitted it.
A sigh leaves me as she slides her fingers over the backs of my hands to my wrist and says, her voice smoky and quiet, “Go on.”
“Lu, I don’t want to make this uncomfortable—”
“It’s not for me,” she says softly. “If it isn’t for you either, tell me.”