Kissing & Telling: A Friends To Lovers Romance (Breaking The Rules Novel Book 1)

by Jenna Reed

  At least this way, I don’t have to see Elijah with his tongue down another girl’s throat.

  I walk out the front door and head down the sidewalk, five houses down to where Elijah lives. The front door is open as always and I walk in without knocking. I don’t even remember the last time I knocked or announced myself when coming into this house.

  My feet just crest the threshold when I hear the chatter of teenage boys coming from the basement. Butterflies fill my belly and I will them away as I start walking toward the steps.

  “I’m so over being nice to Amy and pretending that I actually like her.” Ron’s nasally voice meets my ear. “Hopefully she gives it up tonight so I can move on to the next girl. High school is too short to be tied down to one girl.”

  The guys chuckle, all of them, and I feel bile rising up my throat. These are Elijah’s friends.

  “Same with Samantha,” David mutters, annoyance lacing her words. “Don’t girls get it? Don’t they know that this is all guys think about? Sex and getting their dicks sucked.”

  “Girls think differently than guys. They need to be wooed before you try and get into their panties.” Elijah’s voice pierces through the air and slices straight into my bleeding heart. The blood in my veins freezes, and I worry I might actually throw up on the floor. Is he just pretending to like me to get into my pants? No, I shake my head. That’s such a ridiculous thought. It’s not like that with us, he wouldn’t do something like that, right? We’re just friends, best friends, since first grade. He doesn’t look at me that way, never did… even if sometimes I think I might want him to.

  Waiting a minute before heading downstairs, I clear my head of all the thoughts, and things that I just heard. When I’m certain I don’t look or feel as if I’m going to pass out or throw up, I start descending the stairs. My feet carry me down the steps and when I come around the corner at the bottom of the staircase and all three boys’ heads snap up to look at me.

  “Hey, Bailey… you look… you look, great…” Elijah greets me with a wide smile, his eyes twinkling as they roam over the dress I’m wearing. I force a half-hearted smile, trying to think about anything besides the unpleasant truth that I stumbled upon.

  Elijah isn’t like that, he likes me as a friend, he promised me that we’ll be friends forever. He wouldn’t lie, wouldn’t hurt me... would he?

  I’m distracted by the shit taking place inside my head, and I hope no one notices. Drinking the rest of the wine in my glass, I place it down on the bar. Peering over my shoulder, I spot my father and Elijah talking. My father has always loved him, urged for us to be together both in secret and to our faces. I wonder what he would think now, if he knew we had crossed the line of friendship?

  I try not to think about how happy or excited my father would be over Elijah and I dating since I already know it will never happen. Needing some fresh air and time to think, I walk toward the back patio door.

  Giving Elijah my virginity was all I wanted it to be, but was it worth our friendship? I couldn’t picture my life without him in it, but I know there is no way we can get over this unless we talk about it. And yet, nothing will change. Elijah doesn’t want a relationship, and I don’t want to just be some woman he fucks, despite the fact that I told myself that I will end up that way.

  There is nowhere for us to go.

  Nowhere for our love to grow.

  6

  Elijah

  Asshole. Fucking asshole. That’s what I am. I hate myself a little more each time I look at her. She’s laughing and smiling, but it isn’t real. I know Bailey. I know her inside and out, which also means I know when something is eating away at her.

  She hates this, probably as much as I hate myself for what I said to her. But I was angry, livid even... how could she act so nonchalant over what happened. Like letting me take her V-card wasn’t a big deal? It wasn’t just a big deal, it was astronomical.

  Watching her walk outside and onto the patio, I feel compelled to go and talk to her, to apologize at the very least. I need to find a way to fix this, to still be friends after what we did. I’m freaking the fuck out a little bit, but we did it before, we can do it again.

  When she walked into my basement earlier tonight wearing that lavender-colored dress, it took my breath away. It wasn’t tight fitting or sexy in any way, because let’s face it, Bailey didn’t do sexy. She didn’t try to stick out in the crowd, and that’s exactly what drew me to her. She stuck out simply by being herself. She doesn’t even wear high heels like most girls. Instead in typical Bailey fashion, she wears flats, reminding me of shoes ballerinas wear but without the ribbons around her ankles.

  Her whole outfit screams innocence, pure beautiful innocence. Anyone can see it, my friends, and any other guy with a heartbeat, but because of me, no one will touch her. I’m more than just her best friend. I’m her protector. I told her that she looked great, when in reality I wanted to say something like, ‘you look like an angel, like the most beautiful creature I’ve ever laid eyes on.’ But I didn’t, because as her friend, to say anything other than you look great, would be seen as something more. Even though I have feelings for her, she’s always seemed to keep me in the friend zone. So when I ask her to the dance, I made sure she knew we are going as such… friends.

  Prom was uneventful just as I assumed it would be, but I enjoyed it because Bailey was there. I mean, I won’t admit it to anyone else, but I only went because of her. I couldn’t let her go by herself, and I sure as hell wasn’t letting some asshole take her.

  Parking my car in my driveway, I kill the engine. I hope to spend a few extra minutes with her while walking her down the street to her house. I know it’s not fair, but Bailey deserves this. Getting out of the car, I close the door behind me and walk around to help her out, but she’s too fast and has already managed to get out herself.

  So much for being a complete gentleman.

  We start walking toward her house and I have this crazy urge to take her hand into mine. With any other girl, I wouldn’t second guess myself, I would just do it, but with Bailey, I don’t. I have an internal battle about the pros and cons of holding her hand.

  Would she push me away? Reject me? Would she like it? Let me hold her? Maybe even kiss her? I let a plethora of scenarios run through my head as we quietly walk down the sidewalk. Before I can make a decision, we’ve arrived at her house and time has made the decision for me.

  “Thanks for letting me tag along with you,” she says sweetly, peering up at me, her eyes as green as sparkling emeralds, and I can’t help watching her lips move as she talks. I want to kiss those pink lips. I bet they’re soft, softer than any I’ve kissed before. I bet she would melt beneath my touch. Should I kiss her? Would she kiss me back?

  Before I get into my head too much and miss another opportunity, I lean down and press my lips to hers. For a few seconds, I’m in heaven kissing an angel. Her lips are even softer than I imagined… soft like cashmere. She tastes sweet, sweet like ripe cherries picked on a hot summer day. I suck in a ragged breath, and her scent fills my nose, reminding me of fresh strawberries. God, I feel myself getting hard.

  The fire in my veins extinguishes and my muscles tense as if someone poured an entire bucket of ice water on me. Bailey pulls away, her eyes wide, her mouth popped open in shock. She almost looks afraid, and if there was any more want to kiss her inside me, it’s gone.

  “W-why did you do that?” she gasps, taking a step back as if I just punched her. She raises her slender arm and touches her lip like kissing me hurt her.

  “I’m sorry…”

  “You know she loves you, son? Don’t ya?” Roger, Bailey’s father, says, interrupting my thoughts, and catching sight of me staring at his daughter through the sliding glass doors.

  I almost laugh. He wouldn’t be saying that if he knew what happened between us and what I said to her a little while ago. “Maybe, but sometimes I think she hates me too.”

  “Hate and love go hand in hand.” H
e chuckles.

  “Give me a minute, I need to go and talk to her,” I tell him, but find my feet moving all on their own.

  “No worries, son. Take all the time ya need.” He motions with his hands for me to go, but I’m already at the sliding glass door by that time. I pull the door open and step outside, the cool air hitting my heated face. I close it behind me and when I turn around, I find Bailey looking at me over her shoulder, her chestnut brown hair looks soft, like strands of silk and I want to run my fingers through it just to see if it’s really as soft as it looks.

  “Hey Sunflower,” I call out to her, giving her a soft smile.

  “Don’t call me that.” She stiffens and turns back around, facing the yard once more. Her defiance just turns me on, and I have to adjust my hardening cock before I walk up to her.

  Sidling up beside her now that my raging hard-on isn’t completely on display, I can see that she’s lost in thought, most likely thinking of all the ways to murder me.

  Sighing, I say, “Look... I’m sorry... I didn’t mean to say what I did earlier. It was an asshole thing to do. It’s just…” How do I explain this without fucking up again? “I… was upset. Sex normally isn’t a big deal to me, but with you, it is, was... whatever.” I shake my head.

  She turns to face me, her heart-shaped face calling out to me, her pink lips begging to be kissed. An image of me cupping her by the cheeks and kissing the fucking daylights out of her fills my head. I want to kiss her, unwrap her, and twist her around just like she’s twisting me up inside. Her green eyes meet mine and I see sadness deep in those depths. I half expected her to start yelling at me or tell me to go away, so when she doesn’t, I continue because more than anything, I need to make this right.

  Rubbing at the tense muscles at the back of my neck, I say, “I was worried, okay? I thought maybe I had hurt you or something. I didn’t know you were a virgin. Usually that’s saved for someone special, giving it to me was a mistake.”

  “You’re special,” she croaks.

  I shake my head. “Not special enough for that kind of gift. It shocked me. I don’t want what we did to change us. You said you want to go back to being us, so let’s do that. Let’s forget we ever had sex.” I smile, hoping that will fix the rift that I feel forming between us, but as soon as the words slip from my lips, I know I’ve made a grave mistake.

  “You just want to forget it happened?” Anguish coats her words, her green eyes widen in shock and her bottom lip trembles.

  Fuck, if she starts crying, I’m going to lose it.

  “No, fuck... I mean…” What did I mean? I reach for her, wanting, needing to feel the warmth of her skin beneath my hands, but she bats at them, stopping me from making any further advancements.

  “I know what you mean, Elijah. There’s no need to repeat yourself. All I meant was that I wanted us to go back to being just friends. We don’t have to forget about what happened. God knows I never could. I gave a piece of myself to you that I felt was always meant to be yours.”

  Blinking, I take a step forward. “What do you mean was always meant to be mine? You didn’t want me, Bailey? You never wanted me. I kissed you and… you made me promise you… fuck. How can you say shit like this now?” My blood pressure rises with each word I speak and soon I’m clenching my fists so tightly I feel like I might explode.

  Bailey takes a step backward, gripping onto the railing of the porch with her hands. “I just meant… I don’t know what I meant. I don’t know why I felt this way, but clearly I made the wrong choice.”

  “No…” I growl. “Don’t say it like that.”

  “You said yourself that I shouldn’t have given you my virginity, it was a mistake,” she mumbles.

  I squeeze my eyes shut. “I didn’t mean it like that,” I admit bitterly, even though I kind of did. Shit, this whole thing is so confusing.

  “But you’re right, I shouldn’t have thrown myself at you like this, we are a mistake…” Disdain drips from her voice. Her words, the hurt in her voice causes me to snap. My eyes open a second later, and I take in her heartbroken features.

  “Knock it off, Bailey, you’re taking what I said out of context. You know you are my best friend and I wouldn’t do or say anything to hurt you or make you feel bad in any way,” I heave, slamming my fist down on the railing of the porch. How could I ever forget her, and the night we shared. We’re in this situation because neither of us could forget. By now, I’d have had ten different women in my bed, but I didn’t because no one could amount to what Bailey did in my mind.

  “I don’t know if I can do this…” Tears start to fall from her eyes and roll down her cheeks, staining them with sadness.

  “What does that mean, Bailey?” I ask, fear coating my throat. I’m afraid after everything we’ve gone through, after all our friendship has endured, that it will end now, and all because we can’t work this out.

  She shakes her head, her hair falling into her face, and I curl my fingers into my hand to stop myself from reaching out and tucking the strands behind her ear.

  Staring up at me, she says, “I don’t know. I don’t know what any of this means anymore.”

  My heart plummeting into my stomach and all words leave me. All I can do is stare at her. She looks at me with such a deep-rooted sadness, it chokes me.

  “I’ll talk to you later, Elijah,” she mutters before turning and walking off the porch. My heart bleeds inside my chest. I did this to us. I want to kick the shit out of myself.

  Now more than ever, I want to believe my father’s words… I want to believe when he told me that all women will do is hurt you… that they should be used for sex and nothing else, but I know Bailey. I love her, care for her, she isn’t just any woman. She’s… mine.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, and grip onto the wood of the railing with both my hands to stop myself from following her. I’ll do whatever I have to, to fix this. We’ve survived bigger fights, been through harsher elements. This is nothing, sex doesn’t really change friendships. If I pretend like it isn’t a bigger deal than it is, maybe it won’t be.

  There’s no way I can forget about the night we shared, but I’ll try my damnedest to make Bailey comfortable again.

  7

  Bailey

  Wiping my sweaty palms down the front of my skinny jeans, I try and shove the stupid anxious butterflies taking flight in my belly away. There is no avoiding this man, no running away from our problems, problems that I caused, but that was definitely there before I ever made a move to give him my virginity.

  The space between us is deafening and my chest aches every time I think about it. I can’t forget about what we did or how he made me feel, but I also can’t jeopardize our friendship, and somehow, I know I can’t have it both ways.

  I cannot have my cake and eat it too. Oh, how cruel the world is.

  “Good morning, Bailey,” Barbara, the secretary, greets me as I walk through the double glass doors. She’s got long blonde hair, soft blue eyes and is old enough to be my mom, if my mom were still alive. I’ve always liked her, she’s sweet as pie, and never fails to make me smile.

  “Morning,” I reply in a rush, heading toward the elevators. I was seconds away from skipping out on coming here to see Elijah today, but I knew I needed to. He hired me to do the interior design for his newest club and the project starts soon. I can’t leave him hanging like that, no matter what’s going on between us, I can’t just leave him on a job like that.

  We’re adults after all, and I can’t stay hidden in my apartment forever. Plus, he would just show up there and blast the door down like the Hulk if I didn’t show up, and since I don’t want to have to buy a new door, I figure this is the safest best option. I take the elevator to the third floor, and nibble on my bottom lip nervously, waiting for the ding of the elevator doors.

  When they open, I exit, my steps small, my stomach wrenching and twisting the knife in my chest piercing through the tender muscle of my heart. He’s your best friend, Bailey.
Get a grip. I’m so caught up in my stupid head, and the thoughts of how to deal with this cluster fuck that I’ve put us in that I fail to notice Elijah heading straight toward me. And to think I thought I would get through today without having to see him… as if I would get that lucky.

  My head tilts back and I look up at him, noticing the slight twitch of his lips as he sees me taking in his body from head to toe. I’m totally not checking him out, not at all. He’s wearing a suit, one that as always is tailored perfectly to his body. Stupid abs and impeccable features. Why can’t he be ugly? Or at least not look like a Greek god, that fell off the cover of GQ Magazine?

  I hated myself something fierce yesterday, for not letting him really explain himself further, and I should have, since after all, none of this was his doing. In my defense, all I wanted was to see what it would be like… it was only supposed to be one taste, a sampling even. It was supposed to end before it really began, one night… I just wanted one night.

  “Sunflower…” The nickname he bestowed upon me in elementary school rolls off his tongue, and for some stupid reason, all I can think about is the way his tongue stroked mine so gingerly the night that he claimed me.

  As soon as my green eyes meet his blue ones and I see the concern and softness in them and I cave, “Look, about yesterday…” My cheeks heat instantly, and I fidget with my hands nervously. “I’m sorry. I know you didn’t mean what you said... in the way you said it. I’m just…”

  “This is new for both of us, but it doesn’t mean that I regret what happened. You’re not like all the other women I’ve fucked. You’re my best friend.”

  “Am I?” I cringe, my eyes moving to my ballet flat covered feet. I look so out of place, and nothing like the woman that Elijah typically goes for. I’m more of the girl that stays holed up inside with a floor to ceiling book library, not the kind that has designer handbags hanging off her arms and more shoes than she knows what to do with. I prefer to get my clothes from thrift stores, not because I don’t have the money to buy designer, but because I like vintage, and I like the colors I like, when I like them and not because they are in style that week.