Jamie sat back and smiled to himself.
Maybe he was over what he felt for his best friend in high school, and maybe she would finally get her kiss tonight, the one she hadn’t forgotten about for ten years. But Jamie hadn’t forgotten, either—what it felt like to love her from afar and lose her, even if it was his fault. That’s what kept him at a distance now. That’s what the memories did—reminded him the only way he’d always have Brynn was like this. Funny what the mind did, though, on a short cab ride to revisit his decade-old life. It brought all the memories crashing down, and he could do nothing to stop it.
Jamie had been the one to play caretaker the night Brynn didn’t kiss Spencer Matthews. He’d sat with her at urgent care and later waited outside her bathroom door to make sure she had the strength to shower and brush her teeth before settling in on the couch for the night. The pharmacy had been closed, so she would have to wait until the next morning for the codeine.
“Looks like it’s just us, Cherry Garcia, and Sprockets,” he’d said, getting her situated on the couch. She’d lain with her head in his lap, and even now in the back seat of a cab, Jamie’s heartbeat sped up at the memory, just as it had done in real time.
“Talk about worst night ever,” she’d said. “And I’m ruining yours, too.”
He’d brushed his fingers across her forehead and along her hairline.
“Not possible, B. A night with you—healthy or not—beats a stupid party every single time.”
He remembered her smiling at him and then dozing off. The truth was there was nowhere in the entire freaking world he’d wanted to be than with Brynn that night, no matter how she saw him.
At midnight, she’d woken, her head in Jamie’s lap. Her fever had broken, and she’d put on her glasses and stared at him with eyes so clear Jamie didn’t know what to make of it until she’d asked him the question that catapulted them from just friends to something more.
“Jamie?”
“Yeah?”
“Can you really not get mono again?”
He’d shrugged. “I remember my doctor saying you weren’t supposed to, but it’s not a guarantee.” He held his breath, too afraid to hope where the conversation might be headed.
“But you stayed with me anyway?” she’d asked, her eyes wide with recognition.
And he’d nodded. He couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.
She’d sat up then, still holding his gaze. “I was supposed to get kissed tonight.”
At that point, Jamie couldn’t even nod. He couldn’t move. And he certainly couldn’t speak. So he’d waited.
“Kiss me?” she’d asked. “I know it’s stupid. I’ve never…we’ve never… I just… Jamie, you stayed.” She’d tugged the hair tie off her wrist and pulled her curls back into a bun. “I don’t have a fever anymore, but I get it if you’re scared of getting sick again…”
She didn’t have to finish. He’d pulled her to him so quickly, there wasn’t time to think. In that moment, Brynn had wanted him, and it didn’t matter if it meant putting his health at risk. That he could do. And for a few sweet minutes, his lips had been on hers. There were smiles and sighs and the taste of a Hall’s throat lozenge, yet he hadn’t cared. Because a weight had lifted from his chest, one that had been pressing down for an entire year. But always in the back of his mind there was that voice, and it told him again and again, with every brush of her lips, that this couldn’t last. It was only a brief interlude, but in that time he’d let down the walls, let self-preservation fly out the window.
“Jamie,” she’d said when they finally parted, his name a breathy sigh. God, he could hear it again, could conjure it at will. Why wouldn’t his brain forget?
“Yeah?” he’d asked, his voice hoarse, his heart hammering with anticipation.
“We just kissed,” she’d said, and he’d nodded. “We should do it again. When I’m better. We should…”
Her eyes had been wide with realization, and he’d threaded his fingers with hers.
“Yeah,” he’d told her, beaming that what he never thought was possible was actually happening. “We should.”