The Funny Thing about Love: Feel Good Sweet Romance stories

by Laura Burton

  “I noticed. The salt.”

  I nodded. “Yup. And I used to stutter. It was worse when I was nervous.”

  “Wow. If you hadn’t told me, I’d have never known. Is that why you didn’t want to karaoke the other night?”

  “Confirmed. It’s hard for me to believe that you wouldn’t be smooth enough to salvage a bad date, Gavin.”

  “Smooth? Is that how you see me?”

  I lifted a shoulder. “I don’t really know you, but yeah. You’re the total package, Gavin, and I’m sure I’m not the first girl to notice. Handsome, self-assured—”

  “That’s just what I allow people to see, Ellery. Did you know I had my heart broken once?” I looked at him curiously and he nodded, gaze distant. “In college. She completely stomped on it, said she’d just been passing time with me. Not even a week after she broke things off, she was dating our star cornerback.”

  He looked at me, then, and I read truth in his eyes. “I see. So… is that all this was? Some twisted way of restoring your ego?”

  “I owe you an apology, Ellery.”

  I sniffed, not as angry as I could have been, but not happy, either. “Time to go, Gavin.”

  “Wait. Really. I’m sorry. Yes, that’s exactly how it started. I saw you sitting there with him at the rehearsal, and I just…I was angry. I felt like he had stolen something from me, even though intellectually I know that’s not the case. I approached with some half-baked idea of stealing something from him—”

  “I really don’t want to hear this.”

  “Please. I need to do this.” He turned his palms up on his lap, observed them helplessly. “This isn’t me, Ellery. I don’t do things like this. I don’t know…I guess I just didn’t realize how deeply she had hurt me.”

  Despite myself, pity moved within me. “It’s okay, Gavin. I get it.”

  “It started like that, but I found myself really liking you. I like you, Ellery James.” He sounded like he couldn’t quite believe it.

  I didn’t reply, and we lapsed into quietude. It was as if neither of us knew quite where to take the conversation from that point. Gavin’s admission caught me unawares, and I wasn’t sure what he wanted from me. I wasn’t interested in a re-do. I turned to Gavin to tell him so, to tell him that perhaps this second attempt was only a second mistake. I found him leaned in toward me, almost hovering.

  I cleared my throat. “W-What are you doing, Gavin?”

  “Don’t be nervous. You smell incredible,” he murmured, his eyes drifting closed.

  Was he… yep. He was sniffing me. I lurched backwards in alarm, but he followed.

  “Peaches… or mangoes?” His eyes were still closed.

  “Vanilla and shea. But a good guess. We can’t all be olfactory experts—”

  “Ellery. I want to kiss you.”

  “Umm.” I hesitated, my hand at his shoulder to push him away. Did I want to kiss Gavin? Maybe it would be a good thing to have a point of reference to measure Madden’s kiss against. Surely it wasn’t as earth shattering as my body kept trying to remind me. “Okay. I guess.”

  “Such excitement.” A smile crooked Gavin’s lips and he took my chin in his hand, turning my face toward his.

  “Sorry, I—” He cut me off by pressing his lips to mine, and I took a moment to wonder why men were always doing that. Interrupting me. Did I talk too much? Then I settled and tried to analyze his kiss.

  His lips were warm and dry against mine. He wasn’t diving too deep, not asking more than I wanted to give. He tasted like the coffee we drank earlier.

  It was a nice kiss.

  It made me realize that Madden’s kiss wasn’t nice at all. Madden’s kiss, it was fire and ice and sparks that singed the hair on my arms.

  I pushed against his chest. I was done. I had my answer. “Gavin… it’s time to go. I need to get back.”

  His eyes popped open and he allowed me to separate us and push to my feet. “What do you mean? What’s wrong? Am I coming on too strong?” He stood with me.

  “You’re fine. It’s me. I’m not ready for this. I’m not even your type. Gavin.”

  “Of course, you’re my type, Ellery. And I’d like to get to know you better.” He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. “Are you sure this doesn’t have something to do with Madden?”

  I stepped away from him and turned to face the ocean more squarely. “What do you mean?”

  “Only that I can’t tell with you guys. You say you’re just friends, but everything I’m seeing says otherwise. I can’t decide if I’m stepping into another man’s territory or if you’re as single as you say you are.”

  “I’m no man’s territory.” Disdain coated the word. “And wasn’t that your goal? To take something away from Madden?”

  He shook his head. “Only in the beginning. Cahill likes you, Ellery. And I could be wrong, but it seems like you like him back.”

  “Madden and I have been friends since we were kids.”

  “Yeah? Well, if it’s one thing I know, it’s that men and women can’t be just friends.”

  I looked out at the waves rolling in upon the beach and then receding slower, reluctant to return. “Gavin?” He cut his eyes to meet mine. “I’d like to go home now.”

  Madden was gone when I returned home. I walked through the empty rooms, looking for Cleo, but I couldn’t find her. I guessed he had taken her with him, which meant I’d have to go see him.

  Face him.

  I wasn’t ready yet, though. The memory of kissing Gavin sat uneasy in my stomach. Instead of walking the scant distance down the drive that connected my guest house to his larger home, I cut through the yard and through the gated fence to access the beach, toeing off my shoes before I slipped down to the water’s edge. It was cooler than it had been during my earlier visit with Gavin, the sun pretty much gone by now.

  Sand slid, gritty and wet, between my toes as I curled them into the sand. I wrapped my arms around myself and stared out at the rolling waves, wishing the directions on how to proceed would write themselves on the whitecaps.

  I didn’t know how to handle this. Madden had been my best friend for so long. Now that my eyes were open, it was painfully clear that my feelings for him weren’t those of a mere friend. More and more, I’d been catching myself fascinated by the fit of his jeans, or wishing he were around to share something funny I saw on Insta. The other day, I had to tamp down a flare of jealousy when Shelby, one of Vern’s waitresses, flirted with him as she filled his coffee. At the time I told myself it was just because it was rude, but now… I knew it was more than that.

  And our emails. I groaned aloud; the sound lost to the surf. What were we doing with those emails? Dancing around a truth neither of us wanted to be the first to admit?

  Somewhere along the way, I had caught feelings for my best friend.

  Things were not as simple as I like you, you like me, blah blah sitting in a tree, though. Even though Madden felt something, too, there was so much potential for stuff to go so wrong. We were about as mismatched as could be. The smoking hot ex-NFL player and the socially awkward, tiny town schoolteacher. In what world did we work? If I were to give us a chance and we didn’t work, I’d have lost the most important person in my life.

  I shook my head and kicked the sand. I wasn’t sure I could risk it.

  But I couldn’t stand here being a coward all night. I started walking back, looking for signs along the way. My superstitions were silly, but I needed something to show me whether anything more than friendship was a good idea or a doomed fancy. There was nothing, though, unless I counted the gathering storm clouds over the distant ocean. When I reached Madden’s porch I drew in a deep breath and raised my hand to knock.

  The door opened almost as soon as my fist landed upon the wood. Madden stood in front of me, a dish towel slung over one shoulder, bare feet emerging from a pair of faded jeans.

  “I came to get Cleo.”

  His expression gave me no hint of his thoughts. He turne
d, leaving the door open. “Come in.”

  After making sure my feet were clean, I followed him into his living room. He gestured to the chair where Cleo was curled into a tight ball, fast asleep. “Thank you,” I whispered. The words were inadequate, and I swallowed.

  Madden ignored them. “Did you have a good time?”

  I shook my head and sank down onto the edge of the chair. “No,” I admitted. “I don’t know what to say, Madden.” I lifted my hands and let them flop back against my thighs. “I’m not sure where to start.”

  “You don’t need to say anything.” Madden pulled the dish towel from his shoulder and twisted his hands in it. “You either feel something or you don’t.”

  “I do feel something!”

  “Not enough. Or not the right thing.”

  “No. That’s not it.” Shaking my head, I crossed my arms over my chest to hide my shaking hands. “I’ve been doing some thinking. You’re my best friend.” My eyes begged for his forgiveness. Understanding. “I can’t lose that.”

  Madden inhaled and looked up at the vaulted ceiling, settling his hands on his hips. I picked Cleo up and held her little body to me, burying my face in her fur.

  “Did you ever consider that you might not be losing a friend, Els? That you might be gaining something more, instead?”

  “But what if I do lose a friend? What if we argue over something huge... or one of us wants to move... or you grow tired of how weird I am... or—” I searched the room from where I stood for something that would make him understand. “I’m not a spotlight kind of girl, Madden. I’d embarrass you.”

  “Els.” Madden moved to stand in front of me and laid his hands on my shoulders. They were so large they engulfed me, his thumbs meeting in the center of my throat where my pulse beat rapidly against my skin. He looked at it, that hollow where his thumbs rested, and one thumb moved to graze my skin. “Do you trust me?” He waited for my nod, and when I gave it, dipped his face down to mine.

  My eyes fluttered shut as his mouth, warm and sure and tasting faintly of the peach he must have eaten before I arrived, slanted over mine.

  Our first kiss was long ago, when we were a curious eight and a tolerant ten-year-old. It made me want to giggle and dance. Our second kiss, just days ago, was a surprise. It sent awareness buzzing in my veins. This one, though… this one was different. This one was dangerous.

  Instead of making me want to giggle, his kiss tempted. It teased; it coaxed. My hands itched with the desire to slide up the contours of his chest, but then I remembered Cleo between us and halted the involuntary movement. As if in response to my tentative encouragement, Madden’s hands crept up to cup my jaw, directing every tilt and movement of my mouth.

  Madden’s kiss sent heat pulsing through my veins, and I couldn’t imagine stopping. I needed this, craved it like an addict jonesing for the next hit. But all too quickly, he pulled away, placing his forehead to mine and closing his eyes as we both caught our breath.

  Then he spoke, low and intent and fiercely intimate at this distance. “I’m not sorry. I’ll give you however long you need, but I’m not sorry for doing that.” With a gentle shove, he sent me to the door. “And now you need to go home, or I won’t be held accountable for the very ungentlemanly things I want to do.”

  One hand holding Cleo securely to my chest, I raised the other in a brief touch to my mouth.

  And then I fled.

  Chapter Twelve—ELLIE

  To: NCgirlEJ@gmail.com

  From: plyr87@gmail.com

  RE: appeal

  E—

  It’s been a rough couple of days. So you’re flirting via email? I can’t even tell you how that helps.

  It’s not weird that you want to be appealing to me at all, but I have to tell you that that ship has already sailed. You appeal, E. In a big way.

  To: plyr87@gmail.com

  From: NCgirlEJ@gmail.com

  RE: re:appeal

  Plyr87—

  I’m sorry; I’m really confused. I sent that before…just before. I don’t know what’s up and what’s down, and I might be in love with my best friend, but I can’t tell him that because then he won’t just be my best friend; he’ll be my lover, and what happens if I screw that up? What then?

  To: NCgirlEJ@gmail.com

  From: plyr87@gmail.com

  RE: re: re: appeal

  E—

  Can I text you?

  To: plyr87@gmail.com

  From: NCgirlEJ@gmail.com

  RE:

  Plyr87—

  No. I want to be alone with my kitten and my stupid self.

  I didn’t sleep at all that night. Instead, I cuddled Cleo on my lap as I sat on the couch and watched recorded episodes of The Bachelor with unseeing eyes.

  The over-the-top drama usually made me laugh, but not tonight. Nobody was there for the right reasons and I was tired of the bachelor kissing seven different women in the name of finding his true love. It wasn’t the kiss. It was so much more.

  I needed to go to bed. Class wasn’t going to teach itself tomorrow and I needed all the rest I could get. I wouldn’t sleep, though, not until I’d worked this mess out in my head.

  Madden made it plain that he has feelings for me.

  I had feelings for him.

  Easy peasy, right? No.

  While I would have liked nothing better than to let Madden sweep me off my feet, I had no indication that I could trust his feelings to withstand the pressures of an actual relationship. Except for that one brief relationship in high school, Madden had always been a player. I’d seen the women in the media hanging on his arm or twined around him—never the same one twice.

  Maybe his machismo had asserted itself where I was concerned after all these years and he was jealous.

  But Madden wouldn’t play me. Would he? I scrubbed my fingers across my forehead.

  I needed help.

  Glancing at my phone, I saw that it was approaching eleven. Vern was a night owl. She wouldn’t let a late-night call upset her. With my lip caught between my teeth, I sent a text.

  Me: U awake?

  Vern: always. What’s up

  Me: talk for a minute?

  Instead of a reply, my phone rang.

  “Talk. What’s got you wound up so late tonight?” Vern didn’t waste time on a greeting, but launched in.

  “Oh, you know. Boy problems.”

  “Aww...baby girl is growing up. Ellie! This is so exciting! Who is it? Tell Mama Vern.”

  I snorted. Vern was a few years younger than me but loved to play the sophisticated woman-of-the-world card, I think because she used to live in New York. I wondered sometimes, though, what would happen when she dropped the act. “It’s Madden.”

  “Of course, it is.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Just that the regulars have a bet going on when you guys are going to stop dancing around each other and admit what you feel. If I remember right, the pool is up to three-hundred and seven dollars.”

  My jaw dropped. “How long has this been going on?” And then, in a whisper, “Three hundred and seven dollars?”

  “Goodness, Ellie... the entire town’s had its eye on you two for close to two years now! We never thought Bee’d get hitched first. Old Charlie won big on that one.”

  “You had a bet on Bee, too?”

  Vern’s scoff was clear through the phone’s speaker. “Those guys will bet on anything. I’ve seen them get a pool going on everything from the Super Bowl to how many hurricanes we’ll get in a season.”

  The idea of a bet on me and Madden irked me. “But why us? What did we ever do to give anyone the impression that we should be together?”

  Vern didn’t speak for a moment, and when she did, I envisioned her wrinkling her nose. “Ah...lots of things. What difference does it make?”

  “Because this is why I called you. I’m not seeing it. But Madden is, and you are, and near-strangers are b-betting on us.” My chin wobbled and I
was glad Vern wasn’t there to witness it. “I just don’t understand. And I’m afraid to take that jump until I know why. Until something about us makes sense.”

  “Oh, babe.” Vern’s tone softened. “You know what I know? The way you’re feeling right now has nothing to do with Madden. It has nothing to do with you and Madden together. This is about how you feel about yourself.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Ellie, you are probably the most anxious, humble, self-deprecating person I know. Your insecurities make you think you’re not worthy of Madden. They prevent you from seeing how beautiful, sweet, and special you are.”

  “I think you have me confused with someone else. And besides, Madden’s always been a player. What if he just wants me now because I’m showing interest in someone else?”

  “What if he is? What if it took something like that for him to realize that you’re the only one for him? And you know as well as I do, that man would never play you. That’s just an excuse.”

  I huffed out a breath, knowing she’d nailed it. “How’d you get so smart, Vern?”

  Vern sighed, then continued. “That boy has been crazy about you since the day he arrived on this island. I mean, let’s be real for a minute. The only reason he’s even here is you, Ellie.” She ignored my low protest. “Why else would a big-time ex-NFL player move to this little rinky dink island? It’s not for the banging nightlife.”

  I was silent, digesting. Vern couldn’t be quiet, though, and continued. “You need more? He’s so attentive to you, it’s sickening. If you even look like you might need something, he makes sure to take care of it without your knowledge. He lets you go out with idiots and scares the good guys away.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “You hadn’t noticed? You allow him to vet everyone you go out with. He pushes you toward the ones that don’t stand a chance and makes his pecs dance for anyone that you might actually like.”