Scrunching up my face, I continue. “When other guys do look at me like they might be interested, I freeze up.”
“Why do you freeze?”
“I don’t know!” I shout, growing frustrated. “You don’t know what it’s like. Girls fall at your feet, Levi.”
Silence follows my comment before his deep voice murmurs, “Do you want girls to fall at your feet too?”
Piecing together what he’s implying, my jaw drops. “Did you just ask if I’m gay?”
“Well, not that there’s anything wrong with that—”
“Levi!” I shove him. Harder than I intended, though I don’t regret it in the least. Feeling claustrophobic, I push myself up from the couch and start to pace the family room like a caged beast. “I’m not gay! I’m just not super comfortable around the opposite sex when it comes to romantic shit. Hell, I’ve never even been kissed, okay?”
“Seriously?” His eyes practically pop out of his head. “I mean, I know we joked about it last night, but you’ve seriously never been kissed?”
“I feel like we’ve already had this conversation,” I grit out. “And way to not make it a big deal, I might add.” I’m pretty sure sarcasm is oozing from my pores as I pace my little family room.
Clearing his throat, he leans forward and chooses his next words carefully. “I’m just surprised.”
“Yeah. I know. I’m as undesirable as they come.”
“Bullshit. You’re as innocent as they come, and trust me. That, combined with your looks and personality, makes for a lethal concoction. How have you not been kissed?”
Because you’ve never tried, I want to scream at him, but I bite my tongue and search for another sensible answer.
Collapsing onto the couch beside Levi, my adrenaline evaporating into thin air, I close my eyes. “I freeze when they look at me. How do you think I react when they even consider going in for a kiss?”
“You didn’t freeze last night when I was massaging your legs,” Levi offers.
Glancing over at him, I see the concern in his eyes, and I’m surprised he isn’t making fun of me for being such a dweeb.
“That’s because it’s you.”
And I’d kill for you to touch me.
“And how am I any different from other guys?” he asks.
Because I want you.
My eyes drop to his mouth for a split second before I scoot a few inches to the opposite side of the couch. “You’re my best friend. You’ll always be different.”
Silence follows my comment, making my discomfort skyrocket. My pulse races. I’m terrified I might have just outed myself to him as he stares a hole through the side of my head.
Does he know? Am I that obvious?
After a few seconds, he gives a casual shrug then offers, “What do you say we practice?”
“Practice?” Crossing my arms, I rotate toward him.
“Yeah. Like…cuddle and shit.”
I laugh. “We’ve cuddled before.”
Platonically, of course.
And yes. It’s a thing.
“Okay. Maybe take it a little further then. So you know what to expect.”