Page 168 of Never Not Friends

Her thumb shifts against mine.

Barely anything, but my entire body notices.

Last night, I spent hours finding excuses to move an inch closer to her on the couch. This morning, I woke up with Emma curled against me—something I’d like to repeat more often than I’ll admit. Now I’m standing in the middle of Last Chance, holding onto a metal hanger because her fingers are touching mine.

I’m begging for scraps, and I don’t even care.

She pulls the hanger away. “Okay, I’ll try it on, as long as you try on the sailboat shirt.”

“We’ll see.”

She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling as she disappears into the fitting room.

I wander through the racks and bins while I wait, pretending to look at clothes.

I’m not.

I’m watching the fitting room entrance. A woman comes out. Then another. Then a teenager carrying a pile of clothes. I turn to another bin and halfheartedly sift through it.

“Okay.”

I look up.

Emma steps out of the fitting room, wearing the green dress, and I forget everything. It hugs her body so closely it makes my brain stop functioning. It’s some kind of sundress with tiny straps and a fitted top before the skirt falls loose around her legs. And all I can do is stare.

I’ve seen her in pajamas, teaching school, in a mini dress at a club, or hanging out at home with no makeup and her hair pulled up, but something about this feels different.

She’s striking.

And feminine.

And everything I want.

Her expression scrunches. “Is it bad?”

“No.” My gaze drops before I can stop it.

“Then why aren’t you saying anything?”

“I…uh…” My head shakes as my hand presses against my chest. “I’m trying.”

She laughs, completely unaware of how incredible she looks.

My gaze stops on hers. “You are so astonishingly beautiful.”

“Oh.” She drops her eyes nervously. “It’s the dress. Not me.”

“Emma.” My eyes travel over her again before returning to her face. “Trust me. It’s you.”

“I guess this means I need to pick out something a little better for you besides sailboats.”

I slowly move toward her. “It doesn’t matter what I’m wearing. I could go naked, and no one will even notice.”

I’m close enough now that she has to tip her chin up to look at me. My finger trails along one of the straps, brushing against her shoulder in the process. Her breathing changes. Mine does too. I should move my hand, definitely not let it linger against her skin, but I don’t move it—at least not immediately.

“No one will be looking at me, because everyone will be staring at you in this dress.”

I know we’re in the middle of a store with bad lighting and elevator music, but I can’t help it; my eyes drop to her mouth.