Page 54 of Falling Backwards (The Edge of Us #1)

I gave it my best try, I reason with myself for the umpteenth time as the difference between my friends’ conduct and mine makes it feel like there’s more than just a table separating us. Which there is, I guess. The drinks they’ve had that I haven’t. The ease with which their moods have soared over the last two and a half hours while mine has stayed anchored.

And it’s true that I tried. I was looking forward to coming to Merritt’s as much as they were—perhaps more, what with wanting to enjoy my freedom to get back to doing the things I used to do now that Kyle is out of the picture. I was excited to hang out with Luke at the bar instead of being annoyed he was there like in the past. I couldn’t wait to be in a fun cluster with him and the girls and Paxton, looking good and feeling better, riding the extra high of sparkling holiday energy.

But things haven’t gone like that.

I don’t even know exactly how long I’ve spent wishing Luke and I weren’t here.

Maybe it started when we finished our first drinks and I felt strangely unsure about ordering another, only for him to suggest moments later that we share a snack. Maybe it was when we found ourselves talking to each other about different things, including it kind of being funny to think back on how we used to act together in here, while our friends had their own conversations. Or maybe it sparked off at the get-go, as soon as I laid eyes on Luke after I got here, and was spurred on and on and on by every other moment that came after.

Doesn’t really matter when it started. It only matters that I’ve felt like I’m slowly being crushed under the weight of how badly I want him and him alone.

Not a pre-Christmas night at the bar with my sweet, stunning, silly best friends and everyone else packed into this room.

Not a variety of alcoholic drinks, no matter how tasty I know they are or how good they sound—a testament to this being the Sugar Plum Fairy cocktail that’s been sitting half-full in front of me for the last thirty minutes because I’ve lost interest in it.

I just. Want. Luke.

Luke, who has also lost interest in the spiked holiday punch he ordered.

Luke, whose fingertips have been surreptitiously playing just beneath the hem of my dress, awakening millions of little fireworks through my tights, while he listens with absent politeness to Paxton rambling about his brother breaking the gaming headset he borrowed.

Luke, who dismantles my self-control a little more every time he looks at me because if the scorch of his own desire isn’t in his eyes, then there’s the burn of love or the glow of amusement or the flicker of the same weariness I feel every time the inebriation in this place shows off anew.

And having him is, bit by bit, becoming all I can think about.

I work on keeping my breaths as steady as possible. I touch his thigh, too, but look past him and away from our table. Emma has been gone to the restroom for a few minutes; I’m sure she’s waiting in some kind of line in there. Joy is at the bar in her glitter-laden silver dress, talking to a guy who has flirted with her a few times throughout the evening.

Then sudden movement and a change in subject from Paxton catch my attention. He’s sliding around through the empty side of the booth; he’s going to the restroom too.

The moment we’re alone, Luke and I flex our hold on each other’s thigh at almost the same time. And just like that, he’s dominating my thoughts once again.

I turn to him and stretch to stamp my lips to his cheek. He gives the kiss back in an instant; the hand he doesn’t have on my thigh finds my waist and gives the slightest tug, like he’s both trying to bring me closer and trying not to.

I know which one I want him to do. I just don’t want him to do it here.

How do I say it? Do I say it? Or should I ask what he wants despite how sure I am that it’s what I want?

Upon settling back from him, I meet his eyes. His regard me with poorly masked intensity.

It tries to tempt me into the real kiss I want like hell.

I resist, but I still need some other kind of closeness, so I lean my head against his shoulder. Let it rest there while I absorb the resumed skimming of his now-trembling fingertips beneath my dress, the strength of his hand on my waist where that strip of my dress is sheer, the press of his face to my hair, the slow way he inhales.

Even though I can’t see that look in his eyes anymore, I can feel what drives it.

Breathtaking.

I tighten my hold on his thigh again and let my other hand graze his shirt. I shift my head on his shoulder to speak where only he could ever hear.

“What are you thinking?”

His touch on my waist trails up my back, bringing an eruption of new sparks that have me curling towards him even more. His hand goes and goes until my shoulder is in a grasp that feels far too gentle, too restrained for my longing nerve endings. I feel his mouth move close to my ear.

“That I wanna go home and take you with me.”

His words are low, too, between us, a quiet secret in a too-much place—and a welcome one.

I nod while he goes on.

“I’m tired of hanging out here like this night hasn’t gotten overwhelming and like I don’t just want you all to myself.”

His voice is taking on a slight rasp.

“Like I’m not dying to kiss you and touch you and….”

The promise of more lingers here, tangible and heavy, and I want it so badly. I want kisses and touches and more with him.

To think I spent so much time believing I’d never want him to touch me again, and now he’s the only person I do want it from.

My nods have stopped as my thoughts have started up in earnest, urged on by him.

So I give my agreement out loud.

“I’m dying for it too.”

His hand skips an involuntary inch up my thigh, making my legs move apart and my breath catch, which makes his sigh stutter. The feel of his breath drifting over my jaw has me shivery and heated at the same time. It puts flutters in my stomach and adds to my sharp desire for his fingers to be even higher up, between my thighs.

I ask.

“Are you done with your drink?”

“Yeah. You done?”

“Yeah.”

He starts straightening out of how we’re sitting. I do the same.

“Then let’s pay and tell everyone we’re leaving,” he says.

The flutters in me grow a little wilder.

I don’t think that’s going to stop happening anytime soon.

The plan was already for everyone to catch Ubers home when the night ended, so Luke lets me out of the booth while he deals with that. I catch my breath and gather myself, preparing to go take Joy aside and then find Emma. There’s no telling how long it’d be before our group reconvened on its own. But Emma appears in her red-sequined romper just as I’m about to walk to the bar, so I bring her along.

“Luke and I are gonna go,”

I tell her.

“It’s turned out to be too much for us here.”

She links her arm through mine, which makes it harder for her to half-dance to the cheery song floating down from the ceiling.

“Damn, I’m sorry, sister. This was supposed to be a fun night out for you! No Kyle, only fun.”

Everything aside, I have to chuckle about her.

“Don’t be sorry. I did have fun for a while.”

“You don’t mind if Joy and I stay?”

“Not at all. Ya’ll keep having a merry old time.”

She turns a wink to me.

“Oh, we will!”

We wait near Joy until we find a good time to catch her attention. I was just going to wave big, but Emma practically shouts her name, which makes me wince but definitely alerts our friend to our presence. She says something to her guy and then also half-dances while she comes over to us.

“My girls!”

she says boisterously.

“Couple of beauties!”

Emma holds out an arm to her.

“We’re a trio of beauties!”

“Aw! We are!”

“Damn right!”

I smile but quickly take my chance to speak before they can get chatty.

“Joy, I came to say bye. Luke and I are going in a few minutes.”

Her, “Aw!”

now is much the same as her previous one. She, like Emma, doesn’t appear to mind if I end this outing.

“Okay! You tired of the crowd?”

I nod and she does, too, managing to show understanding even in her current state.

“Well, I wuv you!”

she says.

“Give me a hug!”

“And me!”

Emma chimes in.

“I wuv you too!”

I hug them and assure them.

“I wuv you both,”

and they hug me, making affectionate little noises. Well, they’d be little if these goofy girls were sober.

“Y’all be sure to text me once you’re home safe.”

“Will do!”

they say at the same time.

Shortly, Emma and I release Joy to the guy at the bar and make our way back to our table. Paxton is there again, nodding with whatever Luke is saying. We sit, and not thirty seconds pass before Joy and her guy actually pop up to join us. They slide into the booth while she does a round of introductions. I only partly register his name being Justin—my attention mostly gets split between Luke’s hand finding my thigh again and our server stopping by, perfectly timed for Luke to say he’s ready to pay for our stuff.

It takes every ounce of control I have not to let my eagerness to leave show on my face. To not even try to smile at Luke because I know that smile will falter into a look that’ll give me away to anyone watching.

So I just lace my fingers with his, pick up my glass of water, and wait until it’s time to go.