Page 91 of How We Began

“You know I would stay for you, don't you?”

The words clanged out there, beating against the rocks under our feet with the roll of the waves.

“I know you would,” I whispered back, my breath hitching, making me want to drown with it all, “but I don’t think you should. I’m just not worth it.”

He gave a tsk and pulled me in close until his lips were on mine.

“You asked me how I felt emotionally,” I said after a while.

“Yes,” he said through lips that were still on my cheek.

“I feel like you’re my best friend.”

He dropped his hands from his hold of my arms. “Is that all?”

“No, you don’t get it. I’ve never ever been this way before, so open and exposed, that someone knows me better than I even know myself—good or bad. That someone is part of my soul and that they are an integral part of me.”

“I feel that, too,” he whispered against me. “I’m just so sorry I fucked this up.”

“You didn’t. Maybe this is all we are meant to be. Perhaps we need to work with what we have.”

Lying.

Lying.

Lying.

I lied so badly that I'm surprised the earth didn’t open up and drag me down to the pits of hell.

Then came the death blow.

“Do you think that if we’re going to do the whole best friend thing, we should stop having sex so much?”

Kill me now. Please.

“Yeah, probably.” Nooooooooo.

“I’ll be sad not to see the red underwear.” He gave me a half-hearted lip hitch.

“Maybe we could start the whole best friend thing tomorrow, and just for tonight still be star-crossed lovers.”

Cheesy, but it got a grin from him, and he swept me up into his arms. After a breathless moment we squeezed each other tightly and my eyes stung with tiny beads of heartbreak, we turned and began to walk back to the hotel.

“Lilah,” he said as our hands swung between us.

“Does Taylor have a song for tonight?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

Lying again.

Though he couldn’t hear it, Taylor was singing “Back to December.” And I wanted to go back to December, too.

Valentine’s Day. The day I downgraded the love of my life to my best friend.

* * *

I’m never ever, ever going to celebrate Valentine’s Day again, as long as I live. I’m going to make a blood oath, or something, so I never forget.