Free My Best Friend's Brother: A Standalone Friends to Lovers Romance (Soulmates Series Book 2) by Hazel Kelly Page A

breasts felt
against my chest.
     
    God
help me if I really got her pulse racing, her breath panting against my ear,
her hands on my…
     
    I
forced the air from my lungs, ran my fingers through my hair, and tried to
figure out exactly when she got so damn sexy and why the hell I'd pretended not
to see it for so long.
     
    But
of course I knew.
     
    Because
this whole thing was a recipe for disaster.
     
    We'd
been friends for so long- all three of us.
     
    I'd
always been the guy she came to when someone else broke her heart. I wasn't
supposed to be the one breaking it.
     
    But
I didn't want to break it.
     
    Still,
I wasn't naive enough to think there was no risk. She was feisty, foolish, and wickedly
funny. I didn't normally go out with girls like that.
     
    My
dating history read like a list of genuine Miss America wannabes. To say they
were as simple as they were pretty wouldn't be unfair.
     
    It's
not that I was intimidated by complicated women. Lord knows my sister was the
melodramatic queen of dichotomies. Life was just easier that way.
     
    Predictable
women didn't cause much trouble. They were easy to manage, easy to satisfy. The
majority of them weren't clever enough to hide their feelings, which didn't
always make things delightful, but it kept things straightforward.
     
    So
I could still have a life and sex.
     
    The
closest I'd ever been to dating a complicated woman was with Sonia from my econ
class. She was by far the most intelligent woman I'd bedded in years, but she
and I would never be serious.
     
    We'd
already discussed at length how important her cultural traditions were to her,
and she had every intention of marrying a nice Hindi boy that her parents
approved of. In fact, I got the sense that she already knew who it was going to
be.
     
    So
there was no pressure there. Just fun.
     
    What’s
more, I never stuck with one girl for any kind of celebratory amount of time. I
tired of most of them too quickly and then did my best to drift off their
radar.
     
    But
would I even feel compelled to do that with Andi?
     
    I
hadn't tired of her in fifteen years. If anything, I found her more interesting
with every year that went by.
     
    I
turned down the street and lifted my face towards the last streaks of sunset in
the sky.
     
    Maybe
I was overthinking this.
     
    After
all, we weren't friends anymore. Friends didn't kiss friends like that.
     
    I'd
set something in motion, and there was no way in hell I wasn't going to finish
what I started.
     
    Because
all of a sudden, I felt like I didn't even know her anymore. But it was in the
best, most exhilarating way, a way that made me realize how intimately I did
want to know her.
     
    And
then a funny thought struck me.
     
    Maybe
Mike- despite his deep seated ignorance and his anger management issues- had
picked up on something in me that I hadn't.
     
    Maybe
I'd always wanted more with Andi.
     
    That
would explain why the only thing I liked about her having a boyfriend was the fact
that it made me feel like I had a bit more free reign to flatter and flirt with
her.
     
    Otherwise
I hated everything about it, especially if I was unfortunate enough to glimpse
another guy's hands on her.
     
    I
felt a lurch in my stomach just thinking about it.
     
    And
I swear her boyfriends always went out of their way to be extra handsy when I was around. I thought I just had shitty luck,
but maybe I was giving off a vibe that they could sense, a vibe that made them
question if she’d be better off with me.
     
    Because
she would be.
     
    In
fact, I believed that so intensely that the obligation I was feeling to see
this thing through was growing by the minute, and I was actually relieved that
Steph had come home so Andi hadn’t had time to change her mind about the dance.
     
    I
was halfway up the stairs when my phone rang, which was when I realized how
lame I was for thinking about her all the way home. And yet I still wished it
had been her calling.
     
    " Yo ," I