Chapter 11
Sydney
Kyler avoided me the next day like I was some ugly chick he’d drunkenly brought home from a bar and couldn’t get rid of. The whole thing was about ten levels of awkward and a basement full of someone-kill-me-now.
As I made us cold-cut sandwiches for the second day in a row, he lingered at the edge of the kitchen, and when I handed him his plate and our fingers brushed, he jerked back, knocking the plate out of my hand. Honey ham and swiss cheese went flying. Mayo splattered along the pretty tile.
“Shit,” he said, and he’d been saying that a lot lately. He knelt down and started scooping up the mess. “Sorry about that.”
I stood there, hands shaking. I wanted to cry. Like a fat, angry baby who wanted to be fed level of crying. Mumbling something I didn’t even understand, I went over to the counter and grabbed some paper towels. With every intention of helping—and somehow cleaning up the more important mess—I went back to where he was and bent over.
At that very second, Kyler stood, and the top of his head smacked into my chin, snapping my head back. Sharp pain burst across my jaw as I stumbled back, dropping the paper towels as Kyler cursed like the F-word was going out of style. Standing up, he reached for me, but the laws of gravity were totally against me. I knocked into the heavy-ass oak kitchen table, shaking it. Perched in the center was a vase that his mom had commissioned over five years ago, which started to wobble from side to side.
I spun around, reaching for the stupid purple and pink work of art. It was like one of those really bad movies where a series of accidents leads to something priceless being destroyed. I practically dive-bombed the table, catching the vase a second before it committed suicide off the edge.
“Oh my God,” I whispered, out of breath.
Kyler appeared at my side, helping me straighten up without doing any more bodily injury. “Are you okay?”
I couldn’t feel my chin. “I’m okay.”
He took the vase from me and waited until I backed away from the table before he placed it back down. “I’m sorry. I could’ve knocked your teeth out.”
There was nothing for me to say, so I stood there, trying not to come in contact with anything. “Are you okay?”
“I have a hard head.”
That he did.
And then the awkwardness of the decade was back. We both stared at each other. Heat crept into my cheeks, which was amazing since it was so damn cold in the house.
Kyler went back over to the mess and grabbed the paper towels. I started to make him another sandwich. “Don’t,” he said, looking over his shoulder. “I’ll make myself one.”
I don’t know why that stung like a giant mahogany wasp had landed on my nose, but it did. It hurt, cut right through me. Appetite slaughtered, I left the kitchen and walked aimlessly, ending up in the sunroom on the other side of the living room.
It was freezing in this room, with the floor-to-ceiling glass windows. Huddling down in my heavy sweater, I sat on one of the wicker chairs and stared out over the snow-covered yard. Wind whipped the snow, creating drifts at least six feet high against the shed out back. Beyond that, the forest crept in. I could see the lifts off in a distance, swaying back and forth as the wind kicked them around.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I couldn’t help but think about how it was going to be when we finally got out of here. Would our friendship ever be the same? I couldn’t see how it would be.
Lowering my chin so that it dipped under the hem of my sweater, I closed my eyes. The moment I did so, I regretted it, because in that room, with nothing but the wind and nothing to focus on, I thought about what had happened between Kyler and me last night. How was I ever going to forget that?
“Syd?”
I lifted my head at the sound of Kyler’s voice. He was standing just inside the doorway of the sunroom. “Hey.”
He ran his hand through his hair. Something he must’ve been doing all day, because his hair was adorably disheveled. “I’m sorry about what happened in the kitchen.”
My entire body felt like it had been slipped into a fruit juicer. “You can stop apologizing. It was an accident. I’m okay. So are you. Nothing is broken.”
“You left your sandwich in the kitchen.”
“I’m not hungry. I’ll get it later.”
He looked at me for a long moment, and then turned his gaze to the windows. “It’s crazy out there, isn’t it?”
I followed his gaze, feeling close to tears. “Yeah, it is.”
A couple of seconds passed, and then he sat beside me. He leaned forward, dropping his hands on his bent knees. “Sydney, about last night—”
“Please don’t apologize for that again. Okay?” I didn’t think I could bear it if he did.
Kyler tensed. “How can you be okay with that? I felt you up in my sleep. Wait. I didn’t just feel you up. I was touching you.”
The way he said it made me think of those dolls social services shows kids who come into their offices. Yuck. My gaze traveled over his profile. For the hundredth time I found myself wishing things were simpler between us.
He glanced at me. “That wasn’t what I intended when I got in bed with you last night. I just want you to know that.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. Well, if I thought my heart couldn’t take any more bitch-smacks, I’d been so, so wrong. “Was it so bad?”
“What?”
Looking away, I pushed to my feet and walked over to the window. Maybe I just needed to grow some lady balls and confront this head-on. Obviously, we’d damaged our friendship already. The only way to repair it was if we got past this crap. Psychology 101. Avoidance was the fun and easy way, followed up by denial, but neither ever worked. I needed to tell him that I was attracted to him, that I wanted him. Maybe once we cleared the air, I could move on. Honesty was always the best route to take, but I wasn’t sure I could grow balls that big.
But if I didn’t, then we’d continue this way. Having stilted conversations.
I heard him take a breath. “You’re thinking something,” he said. “You’re thinking something really important. If you’re pissed at me because of last night, you can tell me instead of trying to protect my feelings. I’ll understand. I wouldn’t hold—”
“I’m not mad at you.” I faced him, folding my arms. He looked away. “And how could I be when I tried to kiss you when I was drunk? That would make me a hypocrite.”
“They were totally two different situations, Syd. You didn’t try to grab my junk.”
I would’ve if I had better reflexes while intoxicated. That was the truth—not something I’d admit, but I had to get it out there. “Why did you stop last night?”
He stared at me like I was insane. “I was sleeping, Syd! Hell, you thought you molested me while you were drunk? I seriously did that to you.”
“I didn’t mind.” My voice came out weak, a barely-there whisper.
Kyler jerked back.
I shook my head. “I wasn’t asleep, Kyler. I knew what you were doing.” Now he really stared at me, and I lost my breath. It was either now or never. All those moments had led up to this. I could tell him I was glad he stopped, say something stupid and change the subject. Or I could tell him what I wanted—what I’d been wanting for so very long. If I did, there was no going back.
“Sydney…” His voice carried a warning.
I took a deep breath. “I want what the other girls have had.”
“What?” His eyes widened, darkening.
My cheeks burned like I was sunbathing in hell. “I want that—I want you. I want to be with you.” I watched him stand and I thought for a second he was going to leave the room. Knots formed in my stomach, so tight I thought I’d hurl, but he just stood there. “I’m not asking for you to be my boyfriend or to marry me. I know you don’t do relationships. I know you’re not into that kind of thing.”
“And you’re not either?” Derision dripped from those words.
Now my entire body flamed. He said that like I was Miss Conservative USA. It made me go on the defensive, and the need to prove I wasn’t a frigid little goodie two shoes hit me hard.
“Not with you. I just want you. For one night. That’s it.”
Kyler went very still. I don’t even think he breathed. Then his eyes narrowed on me. “That’s what you want?”
My hands twisted in front of me and I whispered, “Yes.”
“And that’s it?” He prowled a step forward, and my heart tripped up as I took a step back. “Say it a little louder, Syd.”
Throat dry, I swallowed and went with a minimally louder, “Yes.”