All night, we’d laughed about fake dating, glass slippers, and his electric car turning into a pumpkin. When he pulled me close on the couch, I felt giddy. “We’re still on a fake date until midnight,” I said. In a whisper, he told me he’d been wanting to kiss me all night.
“So there’s nothing to talk about? Not even how you panicked and left me there after we kissed?” he says, snapping me back to reality. With each tick of the tea timer, my mind spins with reasons I’m terrified to have this conversation. What I’m most afraid of hearing him say.
It won’t change anything.
It didn’t mean anything.
We can just go back to being friends.
Ten years of avoiding this moment, and I ruin it in one night.
“Please, Sam, say something.”
There’s a waver in his voice I’m not used to, and when I finally meet his eyes, they’re darker than usual. His gaze burns. His cheeks are flushed, his hand tapping against the counter. There’s an intensity about him right now, his usual calm replaced by nervous energy. For all the times he’s been by my side through anxiety and panic attacks, he deserves the same. And for the first time, I realize I’m not the only one with something at stake. I’m terrified of what he might say, but the kiss was mutual, and it’s not fair of me to hold back just to protect my own feelings at the expense of his.
He taps my forehead three times, the light touch igniting something inside me. “Please, tell me what’s going on up here?”
Sometimes, I think it can't just be me. Like we’ve been teetering on this edge almost as long as we’ve known each other. That thought scares me the most the idea that it could all change. That, in the process of our relationship evolving, it might fall apart instead. I need him to tell me we can go back to being friends and forget what it felt like to have him so close on the couch. I’m preparing myself to say this out loud. I take a deep breath and rehearse it in my mind, but somehow, another set of words slips out. “What did you mean in your speech at the wedding? It wasn’t what you practiced.”
For someone who spends so much time overthinking, I sure can be impulsive when it comes to Sam. We’d laughed about it last night, how he went off script from the speech he’d been preparing for weeks, instead listing all the times he could tell his sister was in love with Quinn before she admitted it. Then, he tried to finish with a joke, but it fell flat, and he ended the speech with a toast to “falling.”
He scratches the back of his neck, stepping back slightly. This time, it’s him creating distance between us. “Not impressed with my improv?” he says, his voice tight. It’s strange to see Sam, usually the rock, faltering under my gaze. It makes me feel braver.
“If you regret the kiss, just tell me,” I say. “We can go back to how things were. Pretend it never happened. Whatever you want.”
His eyes are a stormy grey now, and my heartbeat races in my throat. “I don’t.”
My chest splits in two, and a tear escapes. The fear of him not wanting to stay friends is exactly why I was so afraid of this. “I understand,” I say, my voice barely a whisper. “I shouldn’t have kissed you, knowing I was the only one with feelings. It doesn’t have to ruin our friendship.”
Confusion crosses his face. I see five things: his forehead furrows, his eyes soften to a warm green, the smattering of freckles across his nose, the scar on his chin, and his pale cheeks flushed. Some sort of understanding settles on him. He’s realizing I’m in love with him, and even in my worst nightmares about him rejecting me, it never felt this heartbreaking. His hand covers mine on the counter. He’s trying to let me down gently, I’m sure.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Maya.”
My lips tremble. “You don’t want to stay friends?”
He shakes his head, thumb brushing over my knuckles, breathing deeply. “The time we were at IHOP and the server spilled orange juice on my lap, and you laughed so hard you knocked your iced tea over on yourself.”
I stare at him, feeling disoriented by the memory.
“The night the woman from the dating app stood me up, and you met me at the bar, and we ended up singing karaoke until 2 a.m.”
I laugh, still confused. “You told the Lyft driver you were ‘Prince reincarnated’ on the way home.”
He grins, looking more like himself again. “Yesterday, when I picked you up for the ceremony, and the second you saw me, you threw your arms around me and whispered, ‘Hey there, fake date,’ into my ear.”
My skin tingles. “Our friendship really is perfect as it is.”
He shakes his head, smiling softly. “Nah, Maya. I went off script because all I could think about that night was every moment over the past ten years when I was falling in love with you. I don’t regret the kiss. You’re not the only one with feelings.”
Tears spill down my cheeks. “And you just realized it last night, during our fake date?”
He pulls me close, and I nestle against his chest. “I’ve known for a long time,” he whispers into my hair.
“Why didn’t you just tell me?”
He chuckles and kisses my forehead. “You’re not the only one scared, you know.”
Relief floods through me, warmth spreading across my chest. I get to keep the parts of Sam I’ve always loved and gather more. It’s not over. Happiness surges up, and I’m giddy, I think. “Well, I’ve been in love with you longer. The whole time.”
He grins. “Your competitive streak. It’s on my list.”
I’m stunned, but not really stunned. The fear of him not feeling the same way was always overshadowed by the fear that he might.
“Did you know I felt the same? The whole time?”
His fingers trail up and down my arm. “I had my suspicions. But I always knew I had to wait for the right moment. I know how hard change is for you. How your mind needs to be in the right place to accept something new. Last night, it felt like you were there. I never wanted you to rush or regret me. Having you there was enough. But I’ve always wanted more, Maya. I’ve been in love with you almost as long as you’ve been in love with me.”
“Almost,” I repeat with a smile.
He brushes my curls away from my face, cupping my cheeks in his hands. “When we kiss again, you’re not going to try to hide from me, are you?”
I wrap my arms around his waist. “No,” I say. The need to get closer to him is overwhelming, the feeling so strong I could burst. The tea timer chimes behind us.
“Tea is ready,” he says.
I smile, my heart full. “So am I.”
