But with that one word—beautiful—Justin dropped the drawbridge down over the moat, leaving me wondering…
Was yesterday more than an impulsive kiss that went way too far?
What if Justin has feelings? For me? What the heck am I going to do about it? How am I going to tell one of my best friends, someone I treasure with all my heart, that I don’t feel that way about him? That for me, the attraction is purely physical, with no romantic daydreams involved?
For a moment, I consider texting him back and telling him not to come, or jumping off the bus at the next stop and ghosting on him the way I did yesterday, but I force myself stay in my seat.
If Justin has feelings for me, the kindest thing I can do is let him down as swiftly and gently as possible. It’s time to put on my big-girl panties and deal with the insanity that my stupid “sex education” plan put in motion, even if it means hurting a person I never, ever want to cause any pain.
Chapter Twelve
Justin
The Hoyt Arboretum is only a few minutes from my apartment. During the summer, I run these trails—through the cool redwoods and up the gorge to the old mill where there are stairs to pound up and down until I’m breathless—at least once or twice a week. Once the season starts, I’m usually too busy to squeeze in another run outside of practice, but damn, have I been missing out.
As I head up the trail toward the meditation chapel, an open A-frame structure made of redwood planks, with a sweet view of the forest rolling down the hill below it, the colors take my breath away. The rest of Portland in the fall isn’t anything to turn your nose up at, but the hundreds of rare trees planted and nurtured in this reserve have transformed the forest into something magical. Vivid orange, red, and yellow leaves set the tree tops on fire as they mingle in the canopy. It reminds me of a Chinese New Year celebration, the colors mixing together overhead until they’re like silk dragon kites rippling in the breeze.
Fuck, I love fall in this city. I truly am a lucky bastard, to get to play the game I love, in the city I love, and to travel just enough to make me grateful for long weekends at home with friends and family.
Speaking of friends…
I step into the shade under the meditation chapel’s roof to see Libby pacing the floor on the other side of the open space. Her side is sunny, and the warm autumn light catches her hair, bringing out streaks of red and gold I hadn’t realized were there. She’s wearing a dark orange sweater over another pair of baggy linen pants and a hand-knit lacy brown scarf that looks like it was spun by a spider. She’s beautiful, in a cozy kind of way, but it isn’t an outfit that should give a man an immediate hard-on.
“Get a grip, asshole,” I mutter beneath my breath, willing my stupid cock to give it a rest. Yes, cock, I get it, the message has been received. We’re attracted to Libby, but that’s fucking irrelevant at the moment.
Chances are it will be irrelevant for the foreseeable future, maybe even the rest of our lives. I’m not a mind reader, but Libby certainly doesn’t look relaxed and open to continuing what we started She looks stressed, anxious, and when she turns and her eyes meet mine across the shadowy interior of the chapel, a pained expression tightens her features.
“I’m sorry, Libby. I’m an asshole,” I say, hating that I’m the one who made her this upset. “Seriously. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry.” Her fingers tangle in her spider-web scarf. “I’m sorry. I’m the one who started this, and now things are weird and it’s all my fault.”
“It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I shouldn’t have kissed you.” I close the distance between us, coming to stand beside her in the sun, wishing I could pull her in for a hug and make this better. But I’ve got an ugly feeling that’s it’s going to be a long time before hugs between Libby and I are anything but strained and complicated. “At the moment it seemed like a good idea, but clearly it upset you, and it was a bad call and…I’m sorry.”
“The kiss isn’t what upset me. It was more…” She sighs, glancing away with a shake of her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter.” I step closer, unable to resist reaching up to brush her silky hair over her shoulder. “Talk to me, beautiful. Come on, we could always talk. Let’s just get it all out, and then we can decide how to move on from wherever we are.”
She looks up, focusing on my lips before her gaze slides up to meet mine, making me keenly aware of how close our mouths are. So close I can smell honey on her breath and feel the warmth of her skin on my face, two relatively innocent things that nevertheless make the hard-on situation worse than it was before.