Friend Is a Four Letter Word Read Free Page B

who didn’t know my last name three minutes ago.
    “My dad is a minister and we did these mission trips all over the world before he became head of the mega church on Ninth. I never felt like I had settled in my real place. Something’s always gnawed at me, this feeling like I didn’t belong, you know? I want that more than anything. To belong, I guess. Not just to live somewhere or move somewhere. There’s probably a word for it, but the best way I can describe it is that I feel…”
    “Almost like you’re homesick for a place you’ve never even been?” he finishes for me.
    This time he’s speaking clearly—making a connection because we both feel it. Because we both know what it’s like to feel a way there isn’t even a word for.
    And it feels so good to have someone understand, but it also scares the shit out of me. I want to tell him to stop looking so closely.
    I want him to wrap me back up and retie the bow.
    Instead I nod, and let the words keep tumbling out. Let all the layers of pretty paper crumple in his hand and fall to the floor, leaving me exposed. “For the longest time, I’ve felt like I needed to be different—better—not this—”
    Carter reaches over and touches my lips with his thumb. “Don’t.” He shakes his head and his eyes are so intense, I have to look away. “Don’t let anyone feel like they can change you… or tame you. The wild spirit you have—that inability to sit still—that’s you. ”
    He says it with such fervor, I almost believe him.
    “It’s exhausting,” I say, slumping against the car. “I’m just tired.”
    Carter takes a step forward and leans into me, his weight pressing on my hip bones in the most delicious way. It’s what I’ve wanted him to do all night. Physical stuff I can handle. What throws me is the way he’s looking at me from under that thick row of lashes, the way that his mouth twitches—conflicted, like he’s fighting something inside of him, debating whether or not this closeness is the right thing.
    I make the decision for him by pulling his face toward mine, crushing my mouth onto his, and then nipping at his bottom lip. He pushes his hands up my back and tangles them into my messy, blonde hair, tugging at it and pressing me closer into him. His mouth moves to my throat, where he kisses and licks before returning to my lips. I can’t help the tiny moan that escapes from my mouth into his.
    And, for a moment, it feels the way it should: full of passion and free of thought. Free of all the underlying truth locked into that intense stare Carter was giving me. I let my hand drop to the button of his collared shirt and start working on loosening it, unwilling to pull my mouth from his.
    But Carter’s willing to end it.
    He jerks away from me, then shakes his head like he’s clearing a fog and says, “ Wait .”
    The space where he was just seconds before is now empty—it’s like seeing the sunshine from your window and dressing in your favorite cut-offs and tank top… only to walk outside and find that it’s actually thirty degrees.
    Disappointing and frigid cold.
    “Wait, what? Why? What’s wrong?” I ask, my mind still reeling. It’s embarrassing how much I want to be back in his arms.
    Carter rubs his palm on his cheek, “We can’t do this. You and I—”
    Oh. So, it’s me. All the warmth my body built up when we were grinding against each other seeps out, and I’m left feeling like I was carved from solid ice.
    “Okay, I get it.” I nod, but I don’t understand at all.
    How could someone who looked at me the way he has been looking at me all night shut down what was just happening between us?
    I tip my flask, but it’s empty, furthering the disappointment that defines this night. I round the car, sobriety scratching at the edges of my brain like an annoying friend you run into and can’t claw away from fast enough.
    Carter grasps at my arm just as I reach for the door handle. “It’s not… I’m