Don't Be In Love

by Liana Cincotti

I breathed in the cold rain smell coating his hair and let the side of my face absorb the scent. My hands found the back of his neck and my heart found his. I squeezed, and he squeezed back.

“Thank you. So much,” I whispered. “That was the best birthday I’ve ever had.” With one hand secure on my lower back, his other smoothed out my hair, twirling strands at the b...

Swallowing one more gulp of this moment, I reluctantly pulled my hands from his hair. But not before clipping my Red Sox hat keychain onto his belt loop.

I kissed the side of his neck, felt him shiver, and ran back inside.

In a haze, he stared at the keychain attached to his hip. Then he looked at me. He opened and closed his mouth before shaking his head like a flustered kid. The smile on his face was no longer shy.

My heart raced as if I was struck by some shock of electricity.

I think I like you. I think I really like you. I can’t stop thinking about kissing you.

I like Dorian. I like Dorian. I like Dorian.

I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

This urge to touch him, to tell him how handsome he looked, to ask him about his plans for Christmas break with James to Italy. It was suffocating.

The less I saw him, the more I dreamed about him.

Now all I pictured was Dorian putting his hand over mine when I adjusted his tie at the movie premiere.

Unfortunately, our floor still had some neighbors home— What the hell was he doing here? At the end of the third floor where my apartment door resided, was Dorian.

Even from behind him his presence made my heart hammer. His coat was tossed on the ground, so I was stuck staring at the muscles in his forearms where a black henley sweater was rolled up at the elbow.

I apologized, swept Dorian’s coat up, grabbed his arm, and pushed him into the apartment.

Instantly, he was beside me, his arm sweeping past mine to grab the pot. It clanked against the countertop as he looked down at me.

“Why aren’t you looking at me?” he asked. “I’m looking at you right now.” I hated it. “You know what I mean.”

think there are many things about you that people find attractive, Adelaide.” A muscle moved in his forearm, his hand gripping the edge of the sink.

But it didn’t diminish the drumming of dormant muscles in my chest that clung to my ribcage and urged to escape. They pattered at the pace of a piano being struck with need.

His head tilted down just a fraction of an inch, but it was still something. Something that brought the tips of our noses closer than they were before and interrupted the stream of the bulb’s light above.

His tongue pushed against the inside of his cheek in comical disbelief. He swiped his hand across his forehead, sending water flying toward the cabinets.

“Alright, that’s it. Let’s go.” He announced before shaking out his hair with his hand. “Go where?” “To complete your list.

She pulled her knit hat over her head. It was cute. Really cute. And distracting. Definitely something a friend shouldn’t be thinking.

Watching her leg bounce in the cab was painful enough. It’d graze my knee every few minutes and make me flinch. The longer there was contact, the more I wanted to lean into her.

I took my burgundy scarf off and threw it over her neck, tugging her forward to secure it in place. She let me pull her in. I couldn’t tell if she was surprised by the action or simply alarmed that she was accepting it. Her black hair cupped her face, held down by the cashmere.

“Why aren’t you in Italy with James right now?” she asked. “Do you really need me to answer that question?” “Maybe I wanted to hear you admit it.” “Admit that I wanted to be around you? I didn’t think that was something I had to disclose.”

I adjusted her hat. It didn’t need to be adjusted. But I was restless....

But realistically, it was the moment I saw her in the dim lighting of her kitchen that unraveled me. This harsh craving to hold her sparked. It hit me like a truck. Two weeks away from her was unsolicited torture.

But the way her neck craned to meet my lips thirty minutes ago, I didn’t believe it anymore.

If Adelaide didn’t feel the same way, then … I guess I’d spend my holiday pretending that my heart wasn’t slowly bleeding out.

I took her gloved hand and slipped it into my coat pocket.

“Dorian, no, really I can’t do this.” Her hand gripped mine with the power of a vise. Despite losing feeling in my fingers, I squeezed her hand back, trying to give her a place to focus.

“I’ll be with you, don’t worry. But I can’t let you miss this, not with the snow coming down and the Christmas lights up on the bridge.”

because I paid an exuberant amount of money to have someone let us on despite its closing to the public three hours ago.

That earned me a laugh. Finally. My shoulders relaxed.

But once the ride kicked into gear and we began moving, her hand shot to my leg. I covered her knuckles with my palm, trying everything in my power not to flinch at the way her fingers splayed across my thigh.

I looked back and her eyes were still shut, leg bouncing away. “Hey, look at me,” I said softly. I squeezed her hand. She didn’t budge. Picking up my palm, I carried it to her face and paused instantly.

I took in the features of her face in secret, absorbing the arch of her cheek bones and the length of her dark lashes. My heart pounded in unison with each part I memorized. Before I could get to her lips and torture myself more, I cupped her jaw.

I stood and gave her my hand. She went a step further and held onto my arm as if I was courting her, nails digging into my bicep. Four steps and we were in front of the glass.

“Because she thinks I’m making myself unhappy by avoiding my love for James.” My heart sunk to the bottom of my stomach. Thunderous pumping blood pounded in my ears. My love for James.

A bitter taste sat at the bottom of my throat. I couldn’t fathom saying, What makes her think the two of you are in love?

“You hate coffee.” It came out more like a question. She ran her fingers over her brow. “I haven’t been sleeping well.” “Nightmares?” “Something like that.” “I can understand.”

“I don’t. James is just my friend,” she said softly. The fluttering in my ears finally stopped.

I was clutching her hand so she wouldn’t trip when stepping out.

I tucked her hand back into my pocket to keep it warm. It was torturous, doing this to myself.

“What?” I was more focused on her hand in mine rather than the weather.

The only solution I could spot amongst the blur of the lights was the last spot I wanted to be stuck in. But Adelaide was shivering.

“A telephone booth?” she laughed as I shut the red door behind us.

I didn’t want to lose her. I couldn’t lose her.

I tried, you know. To look at you as a friend. I really did. But every time you smiled. You laughed. You breathed. Your lips parted. All I could think about was kissing you. And you’re not supposed to want to kiss your friends. You’re not supposed to want to brush the straps of their tops off their shoulders and kiss down their neck and across their collarbones.