For the Love of Donuts

22. Maybe

Skye

I shouldn’t be ogling my best friend’s mouth.

Again .

And I definitely shouldn’t be thinking about our kiss.

Also, again.

Neither of those things fall into the “acting like everything is normal” category.

This is way worse than last night.

“Pink Stuff, you good?”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” I choke on the words. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Hmm,” he hums, using his fork to cut a small piece of the vanilla almond cake, “you just seem kind of distracted.”

Oh no, he noticed! He noticed that I was staring at his lips!

His soft, pouty lips .

STOP!

“Skye?”

“We still need to pick another wedding planning activity for the blog!” I blurt out, desperate to redirect his attention. “We didn’t choose the last one, remember?”

“I remember,” he says with a nod. “Did you have something specific in mind now?”

“Flowers are pretty,” I offer the first suggestion I can think of. “Who doesn’t love flowers?”

He raises an eyebrow at me. “Last night you said floral arrangements were boring.”

I mean, compared to cake testing, of course floral arrangements are boring.

But floral arrangements don’t involve eating, therefore I will have less of a reason to stare at his mouth.

“Well, I—”

“What about wedding dress shopping?” Tatum interrupts, looking extremely proud of himself. “That wouldn’t be boring, right?”

The guy might be on to something.

I drum a few fingers against the table. “Zoya did tell me that she loves watching bridal shows, and I’m sure that’s mostly because of the wedding dresses.”

Wedding dresses sound wayyyyy better than flowers.

Also, food won’t be involved, so that’s a plus.

“See? It’s the perfect option then,” he drawls before finally trying the vanilla almond cake. “We’ll find a wedding dress shop, you can have a trying-on-dresses montage, and I’ll take the pictures.”

I glance down at the table to avoid looking at his mouth. “Yeah, except it’s bad luck for the groom to see the wedding dress.”

“Zoya’s not going to know that I’ll be the one behind the camera. And besides, it can’t be bad luck if the dress is for a fake wedding.”

Right.

Fake.

We’re planning a fake wedding. Just like we planned a fake engagement photoshoot. And just like we planned that fake kiss…

A fake kiss you can’t stop thinking about.

SHUT. UP.

“So, wedding dress shopping? We doing it or what?”

“Sure,” I say with a shrug, “I think it could be fun.”

“Good.” He motions to the remaining vanilla almond cake. “You need to try this one. It’s delicious.” To my surprise, he snags my fork off the table and digs it into the cake before holding the utensil out to me. “Open up, Carson.”

Best friends can feed each other. This isn’t weird.

However, I can’t stop myself from cracking a joke. “What, no here comes the airplane ?”

He gives me an amused look. “I didn’t think I’d need to trick you into trying cake.”

Fair point.

Just go along with it. Act like everything is normal .

So, I let him feed me the darn forkful of cake.

And he’s right, it’s delicious. The sweet, nutty flavor is perfect.

But everything shuts down when Tatum sets my fork aside and leans forward to rub his thumb over the corner of my mouth.

Someone gasps.

It’s me.

I’m the someone.

I gasped.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, his eyes watching me carefully, “you got some frosting on your face.”

Oh. Well, I guess that makes sense.

Can anyone explain why I decide to lick the frosting off his finger though?

Because that doesn’t make sense to me.

Seriously, who the heck approved such an insane idea??

Tatum’s gaze darkens, and I start to offer my own apology, but then I’m at a loss for words as he slowly presses down on my bottom lip. As he drags his thumb back and forth. As I’m quivering under his touch.

THIS IS NOT OKAY. THIS IS WRONG.

But it doesn’t feel wrong. Why doesn’t it feel wrong?

“Well?” he asks, letting his hand fall away from my face. “What do you think?”

Oh my gosh, why the frick is he asking me that? How am I supposed to answer him?

What do I think? Uhhhh, I think we just had a very non-friend moment, and I’m kind of in shock right now?!

“Skye? What do you think about the cake? Did you like it?”

The cake.

He wants to know what I think about the cake.

He wants to know if I liked the cake.

“The cake was good,” I manage to reply. “I liked it.”

“Yeah, I liked it too.”

Except, I’m not entirely sure he’s talking about the cake, because his eyes flicker to my mouth. It’s only for a brief second, but I find myself resisting the urge to touch my lips anyway.

What does this mean?

Is he trying to let me know that he’s okay with what just happened between us?

He shouldn’t be okay with it.

We crossed a line.

Crossed a line? We trampled over it like a herd of elephants.

“So, should we pick the vanilla almond one? Since we both liked it?”

Since we both liked it.

Since we both liked it.

Since we both liked it.

Warmth spreads through my veins as his words echo through my mind, and I’m forced to ask myself a serious question: did I like it?

Not the cake.

We’ve already established that I liked the cake. The cake was fabulous.

But did I like crossing a line with Tatum?

Was I okay with our non-friend moment?

No.

That would be the correct answer.

It should be the only answer.

But somewhere deep down, a little voice tells me a different answer, and one word has never scared me so much before.

Maybe .