Junkie(59)

“Kissing,” I said, and his eyes flew up to mine. “Touching.”

As fidgety as he was just seconds ago, now he was equally still.

I lowered my voice. “Is that what you wanted to try?”

He nodded miserably. “I thought maybe—”

He didn’t get to finish because an angry sound ripped out of my throat. I pushed off the counter, and his eyes widened when I stepped forward.

“You went to some bar full of strangers so you could pick out a guy to hit on and fool around with?” Oh my God, just the thought of it brought back all the anger I felt in the Mustang.

“Well, yeah.” He shrugged.

The image of him sitting at the bar with the lumber lame-o assaulted me once more.

Everything inside me rejected it. I rejected just the thought of Trent with that guy—with any guy—so forcefully that my hands started shaking all over again.

“No,” I growled.

Trent bristled. “No?”

“No.” My voice sounded like gravel.

“Look, man. I get you’re pissed. And I get this conversation sucks, but you don’t get to tell me what to do.”

I felt my eyes narrow. “Excuse me?”

“I’m not sitting over here getting all pissy about you and Joey.”

I drew back like the room suddenly filled with a bad fart. “Me and Joey?”

He nodded. “I catch your vibes. You were flirting with her in the car tonight. She has a total lady boner for you.”

I snickered. “You said lady boner.”

His lips twitched, but then he crossed his arms over his chest and this look came over his face… a look I was pretty sure I would see reflected if I looked in a mirror.

Jealousy.

He was jealous of Joey, and I was jealous of every stranger he would consider… trying things with.

“Try with me.” My words were abrupt.

His hazel eyes widened and the arms crossed over his wide chest fell to his sides. “What?”

“You want to try with a guy. See what it’s like… Use me.”

Temptation flashed in his eyes, and it made me hungry. It made me feel like I’d been starving for a very long time and didn’t even know it.

Temptation gave way to resolve.

“No,” he replied, flat.

“Why the hell not!” I demanded.

“Because you’re my best friend.”

“You said there might be more.” I shifted a little closer.

He didn’t back up.

“What about you, Drew?” Trent’s voice was tentative. “Do you think there might be more?”

Here it was.

The moment of truth. The moment I had to be honest with myself.

A sudden surge of panic slapped me in the middle. I’m not ready. I’m not ready for this. I’m not as brave as Trent.

And Trent was brave. In that moment, he was the bravest person I’d ever met.

He took my silence for decision, and his shoulders slumped just a fraction as he turned away. “It’s okay, man. I get it.”

“Wait,” I said and caught his wrist.

Both of us paused and glanced down to where I held him. He felt strong and solid beneath my grip. Not delicate and fine-boned like all the women I’d bedded in the past. Trent was warm and sure. He was a net strong enough to catch me. Strong enough to take my fall.

No one had ever been strong enough for me before.

Suddenly, it was do or die. It was Trent or my fear.

If I let my fear win, we would never be the same again. Sure, we’d stay friends. We would always be friends. But he would drift away… He would go back to that bar. I would lose him.

Maybe not completely, but too much.

I wanted all of him.

“There could be,” I whispered.

His arm jolted in my hand.

“I think there could be more. I’d like to… try. I want to see.”

My heart was thudding so heavily in my chest I felt unsteady. My stomach was so fluttery I partially worried I might be sick. No one had ever affected me like this.

No one.

And it was because of the completely rattled and unsteady way I felt that I understood something that only shook me further.

This was real. Whatever this was, it was the most intense feeling I’d ever known.

Trent turned back, his attention going to where my hand still clung to his arm. I wasn’t trying to stop him from leaving anymore. Now I was holding on because I needed someone to ground me.

I was scared.

“You’re shaking,” he whispered and gently took his free hand and wrapped it around my forearm to slide his down and gently disengage my grip.

But he didn’t let go. Instead, he entwined his steady fingers with my quivering ones.

I ceased to think. Not because I wanted to miss the moment, but because my brain simply could not process everything at once.