Fall from Love

and get dressed, or halfway dressed? I make the stupid mistake of glancing over and see that he’s only wearing a pair of jeans and no shirt, leaving his amazingly bare chest fully exposed.
    Shit. Don’t look, stay focused . I fight to catch my breath, but can’t help feeling the pressure that is clamping down on it.
    “Hey, Holly!” he calls again and I can see that he’s jogging towards me.
    “Sorry, I should’ve called before coming over,” I say when he’s a few feet from me. “Actually, I tried to call, but you didn’t answer and now I see why. Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” I keep my head down, trying to find my stupid keys in my stupid, disgusting purse and doing whatever I can not to look at him.
    “C’mon, you don’t have to call before coming over, you know that. I would like to know where you’re going, though.”
    “Home.” My voice is flat. After finding my keys, I unlock my door and try not to look at the chest that is luring me in like a moth to a flame. I hate that he didn’t tell me about his girlfriend. I hate that he invokes these feelings in me. I hate that he looks amazingly hot standing there beside me. Most of all, I hate that—even though I’m really pissed right now—I still want him; I’m still fighting the urge to reach over and kiss him.
    “O-kay.” He enunciates the word slowly and carefully. “I’m confused. You just got here. Were you even going to say hi?”
    I was going to make you breakfast before I saw some beautiful girl answer your door in your t-shirt and boxers and I couldn’t help feeling stupidly jealous , I think to myself . “I just realized that coming here was a mistake…” My voice trails off and I look up at him. Big mistake.
    He’s looking at me intently. “So you drove the five miles from your apartment, thinking it was the right decision, parked your car, walked up to the door, knocked on the door, and then decided it was a mistake to come here?”
    Okay, now he’s just having fun with this. Why does he want to extend my misery? “Um, I have to go. I shouldn’t have come over; I didn’t know you had company.” I curse to myself, knowing I sound like a pathetic, whiny girl. As I pull open my door, he steps in front of me and blocks my way.
    “Wait,” he says. “Are you mad at me?”
    “Carter, I just made a mistake in coming here, okay? I just want to go home.”
    He takes a step further, wedging himself in between me and the car. “You’re mad about Kelly, aren’t you?”
    My heart clenches at her name.
    Yes . I swallow hard, hoping to keep my voice steady. “No, we’re just friends. Why would I be mad about another girl?”
    “So, if I told you that Kelly and I were…” His voice fades. “That wouldn’t bother you? You wouldn’t care?” he asks, holding my stare.
    My chest is rising and falling as I try to process the question he just asked me. Yes, it would hurt me. It would hurt like hell . Dammit, I hate admitting that to myself.
    “No, I wouldn’t care,” I answer, swallowing the lump that is rising in my throat.
    “Good to know.” We’re only inches apart and he stares at me for a few more seconds. His expression is hard to read, but I know there’s something going on inside his head. I can’t help feeling like he knows I’m lying. He rubs his hand over the stubble on his chin and there’s an internal pull inside me that wants to reach up to do the same.
    He takes a few steps away from me and it’s hard for me to take my eyes off him, especially when I see a large smile spread across his face. Why is he smiling?
    “I’m glad to know that you would be okay with me seeing another girl, but, uh, Kelly’s just my sister, so you don’t have to worry about her… not that you were or anything.”
    Sister?! “You’re a jerk!” Shock and relief rip through me and I playfully punch him in the arm. He stumbles back a little, over-exaggerating my strength.
    “Why am I a jerk?” He chuckles, gripping his arm where I just punched him.
    “You made it sound like you two were together,” I answer.
    “Hey.” His smile grows wider. “I never said that. That would be gross.”
    “But you implied it,” I argue.
    He shrugs, still wearing the same, easy smile. “What does it matter anyway? Thought you said you wouldn’t care?” His smile tames and his eyes focus on mine, unwavering.
    For the life of me, I can’t think of anything to say in return. We stand there staring at one another with