Page 11 of Crossing the Line

She didn’t look my way once.

Chapter Six: Kelsie

Inviting others to our movie night was an impulsive decision, and I was convinced it was the right call. No matter how much I wanted to preserve my friendship with Damien, I wasn’t ready to be alone with him yet. My heart was still too bruised for that.

When the movie ended, Damien was the first one to leave the room. Most of our friends didn’t pay much attention to that, but I saw the concerned look that Jess sent my way. She’d picked up on something strange going on between us, but that wasn’t really a surprise. Damien and I were so close that any change in our relationship was bound to be noticed.

Jess didn’t ask me about it, probably because the others were there, and I hoped that she wouldn’t. It was still too embarrassing to discuss what went down between us. Not the night of the bonfire, but the morning after. I was ashamed of that moment when he crushed my spirit, no matter how much I told myself that I did nothing wrong.

I just hoped that with time, I would stop wanting to be with Damien in that way. No matter what, I refused to become a woman who pined after a man that didn’t want her. I was stronger than that. I hoped.

The next morning, I headed down to the complimentary breakfast the resort offered. There was a setup in a small room next to the hotel bar with a large selection of food options. The place was luxurious, so this wasn’t the kind of spread you’d find in a cheap hotel that put out stale muffins and off-brand cereal.

There was a variety of baked goods—cinnamon rolls covered in gooey cream cheese icing, flaky croissants, and sweet Danishes—and fresh fruit that could be grabbed without a wait. There was also a station where a man in a white chef’s coat made omelets to order and a woman beside him was continuously pouring batter into waffle makers so that guests could take plates of steaming waffles right as they were done cooking.

It was a nice setup, and I went straight for the waffles, adding a generous serving of syrup and whipped cream to the top. When I turned around and scanned the tables, I saw a few familiar faces, but of course, my eye caught Damien’s right away. When he saw me, his face lit up with a smile that made my pulse flutter.

Why did he have to be so happy to see me?

Or I guessed the more important question was, why did I have to still feel like this about him? Why did my traitorous heart still beat for him?

I wished that my feelings for him had died when he shattered me yesterday, but life wasn’t quite that simple. All I could do was hope that they would truly fade with time because trying to make them disappear with sheer force of will wasn’t working so far.

I stood there for a moment, considering going to another table. Damien was sitting alone, and the idea of joining him felt like walking to a guillotine.

I had to do it though. If I wanted to maintain this friendship after my heartbreak, I couldn’t keep avoiding him. And I did want to stay friends. The only thing worse than being around him all the time while knowing my feelings weren’t returned would be losing him completely.

I placed my breakfast on the table and took a seat across from him. For the first time in so long, I didn’t know what to say to him, how to greet him. Damien had stopped eating and was watching me as I opened sugar packets and added them to my coffee. I could feel his gaze with the intensity of a physical touch, just like I felt him watching me at dinner last night.

This strained silence between us was almost as painful as learning that he didn’t want me. I couldn’t let this go on. Pulling in a deep, shuddering breath, I pulled on my big girl panties and looked at my best friend. There was something vulnerable in his eyes that split my chest open. In dealing with my pain, I’d hurt him. That wasn’t my intention, but I could see it clear as day. No matter how upset I was, I never wanted that.

“You know what I was thinking about?” I asked as I stirred my coffee. “If you had to choose between always speaking in rhymes or talking like a pirate for the rest of your life, what would you pick?”

Relief made the tension in Damien’s body disappear. His shoulders relaxed, and amusement danced in his eyes. “That’s what you were thinking about? A would you rather question?”

I shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal that we were talking like this. We played this game all the time to entertain each other, and it was the best way that I could think of to get us past this horrid awkwardness and into a conversation that would remind us both of who we were together before sex and feelings and heartache got in the way.

“It’s a good one, isn’t it?”

“I suppose,” Damien said, looking thoughtful as he put a bite of his cinnamon roll into his mouth.

“And your answer?”

Damien smirked. “I guess I’d choose to rhyme. It’s something I could get used to in time.”

A giggle bubbled up and escaped my throat. “Look at that. I had no idea you were a poet.”

“And I didn’t even know it.”

At that, I cringed, making Damien laugh this time.

“Okay, that wasn’t my best attempt at rhyming,” he admitted. “But my answer stays the same. And you?”

“I don’t think I could pull off talking like a pirate. Shouting ‘arrr’ and calling people scallywag is not really my thing.”

“Okay, I’ve got one for you,” Damien said as I cut into my waffle. “Would you rather lose a finger or a toe?”

I put a bite of waffle into my mouth and swallowed it before responding. “Such a dark scenario. I guess it depends on how I lose it. Cut off by a surgeon under anesthesia? Chopped off with a machete by a crazy person?”