The thought weighed my conscience down.
Kulti stroked my arm with one hand. “It’s been a long time,” he apologized, tracing a pattern only he saw on my skin. “And you’re too beautiful for your own good.”
I screwed up my face and snorted a little, not letting myself think of all the gorgeous women he’d been with over the years.
He slid his index finger straight up between my collarbones, a thoughtful look on his features that didn’t make me feel any better. Was he remembering all of the amazing boobs he’d seen in his life? Gross.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, his fingertip curving over bones, tendons and scars.
“About all the boobs you’ve seen before,” I told him honestly, my throat clogging up in anger I had no right to feel.
He glanced up quicker than I thought was possible, his mouth tight at the corners in a frown.
“I know I don’t have a right to say anything about things that happened before we met, but it’s a little hard for me. If something isn’t to par, think about my scissor kick. I’ve heard some guys tell me it’s boner-worthy,” I offered with a smile.
The frown on his face melted right off. “Sal.”
“I’m just kidding. Mostly.” I sighed and shrugged my shoulders. What was I doing? I needed to tell him the truth.
With a sigh, I stood up and pulled my bra on.
Fingers touched my lower back. “What’s wrong?”
What was wrong? Bah. Why hadn’t I told him yet? He needed to know. It made me feel like a fake after everything that had happened. “I need to tell you something.”
“What?”
I started to reach for my shirt when he swung his legs off the couch and stopped me with a hand to my arm.
Sitting up straight, I tucked my hands between my thighs, elbow tight to my sides and focused my gaze on my knees. I tried to think of the words I’d planned since my dad had accused me of being a chicken. Not sounding like a stalker was a lot harder than it seemed, especially when I could still taste him in my mouth.
What if—
No what-ifs. I just needed to do it. I really did.
“I used to have a huge crush on you when I was a kid,” I started, warming him up. “Up until I was about seventeen, there were posters of you all over my room. “ In for a penny, in for a pound. All right. I could do this. Honesty mattered. “I was in love with you. I told everyone I was going to marry you someday.
“You were my idol, Rey. I kept playing soccer because of you.”
I rubbed my hand over my eyebrow, still keeping my gaze forward on the coffee table. It wasn’t like I was telling him something crazy. Every girl I’d ever known had crushed on a celebrity at some point, but… I’d just had his penis in my mouth. I should have told him earlier. I should have told him a long time ago.
Pressing down on my eyebrow, I kept going. “I should have told you before but I didn’t want to. It took me long enough to talk to you, and by the time I could do it like a normal person and not like a fan-girl, I didn’t want to. I didn’t want you to look at me differently. I don’t want you to. I’m sorry. It was a long time ago and I’d been just a kid back then.”
There was silence. Total silence.
And I thought to myself, this is over. Our friendship was done. Any hope I had of… well, that was done with too. But what could I do? Nothing. I couldn’t take it back. When I was a kid, I had no idea I’d ever meet Reiner Kulti, much less become friends with him. I definitely had no idea that I would ever fall in love with the human version of him, the real man. Unfortunately, you can’t turn back time and change the past.
Then again, would I want to? I’d gotten to where I was because I’d idolized him, because I had wanted to be him. What the hell else would I be doing if it hadn’t been for him and that damn Altus Cup when I was seven?
Goosebumps rose up on my arms as I sat straight and lunged for my shirt again, pulling it on as the German shifted in his seat right next to me.
I had just tugged it down over my stomach when he shoved his cell phone into my hand with a single order. “Look.”
Big Girl Socks on, I cast a single glance at his face but he had that same blank expression, the cool one. I looked down at what he was showing me on the screen. It was a picture of something.
“Take a closer look.”
I took the phone from him and brought it up to my face, enlarging the image to see what he wanted to show me. It was a picture of a picture. Well, of a drawing to be exact. It was an orange sheet of construction paper with big, black words written in a little kid’s handwriting.
Wait a second.
I looked even closer, blowing up the image more.