She leans forward. “Do you want to be just friends with him?”
I pause, swallow. Shake my head. It’s the truth, and I need to tell it to someone. Need to admit it to myself. I’m spending all this energy telling myself we should be just friends, but deep down I know I want more. I have to stop lying to myself about it. It’s probably crazy, and it might be suicide for our friendship, but the more time passes, the more I want to give it a shot. I don’t know how Cole feels, but I have a suspicion he might want the same thing. That this isn’t just physical for him.
Her face softens in sympathy. “What a hard spot for you. I’m sorry. Can I offer a bit of advice?”
“God, please. Yes.”
“It sounds like you really care about your sister and don’t want her to get hurt. But if you can’t help the way you feel about Cole, then you can’t help it. Christina’s happiness is important, of course, but it shouldn’t come before yours. And I think she’d expect that, especially if she cares about you too. It would probably hurt her to know you’re struggling this hard over the situation.”
“Yeah, probably,” I say. It’s too uncomfortable for me to face the reason why she still has justification to hang on to her bitterness toward me. The fact that she let it go and has worked on rebuilding a relationship with me…well, I don’t deserve it, but I’m grateful for it anyway. “I’m just scared that I’m going to screw things up with her.” And push her away for good.
“You’re not doing this to be cruel. Christina might be upset at first, but I think after she mulls it over, she’ll realize you care about her. That your feelings for him have nothing to do with her. It will all work out,” Emme adds quietly. “I promise.”
During this conversation, my stomach has tightened into a knot a sailor would envy. God, I hope she’s right. But only Sunday will tell.
Cole
“You have met me before, right?” Lauren’s face has gone ghostly pale, and she’s staring at the old wooden sign outside of the brick building. “You do remember I’m petrified of heights. I didn’t think that was a big mystery or anything.” A breeze catches her hair and sends a few errant strands that came out of her braid across her face. She brushes them back.
“It’ll be fun. You’re completely strapped in, and we have two guides working with us to ensure our safety. They check the equipment and lines every morning, without fail.” I keep my voice low and soothing as I cup her elbow and lead her inside. “Trust me.”
“I trust you,” she mutters. “But I also don’t like falling to certain death.”
I roll my eyes. “Stop being a chicken. It’s going to be great. You’ll see.”
The zipline tour we’re about to do starts soon, and we’re supposed to get safety lessons before we even ride up to the first zipline station. I’ve done ziplining a few times now; it’s exhilarating, a way to get that adrenaline rush without doing something fucking stupid. I have a feeling once she gets up there and goes flying across the canopy, she’s going to love it.
Lauren, however, seems to disagree with me. But to her credit, she’s slogging along at my side, though her mouth is pinched so thin I doubt a sheet of paper could slip through. That’s my girl, stubborn as hell even in the face of fear.
I called in a favor with a friend of a friend to get us a semi-private ziplining session. Three hours of soaring over trees, rappelling, and hiking. So fucking awesome. It’s me and Lauren, two of the employees, and another couple who just got married and are on their honeymoon. That’s not going to be awkward or anything. But beggars can’t be choosers, and they’re doing me a favor. Hopefully Lauren will relax and enjoy the experience. I suspect underneath that fa?ade of hers is a heart that aches to try something a little more dangerous.
I check us in. The other couple is already there, a husky light-skinned black man and slender dark woman who haven’t stopped holding hands since I spotted them. The smiles on their faces are big as they sneak glances at each other, like they still can’t believe they’re married. Their wedding rings glint in the fluorescent light.
Fuck. I want that. So much. I want Lauren to wear my ring, to hold my hand. Maybe this wasn’t my best idea after all. I know we’re strictly here in friendship mode, and while it makes me want to take a header off a cliff, I also know I can’t push her too fast or she’ll run from me again.
We line up by the harnesses, which are stretched out on the floor, ready for us to step in. Our instructors can’t be older than twenty-one; the black-haired girl, Veronica, has a nose ring, and the blond guy, Dexter, has artfully mussed hair.