Fairytale Love - Becca & Brian (3 page)

“I
s that yours, dear?” Stella asked, pointing her wrinkled finger topped with a long, fire-engine-red press-on nail towards a huge, neon-green-and-bright-pink, leopard-print suitcase.

Really
?

Becca realized that she’d only known Stella a whopping, grand total of the four hours it had taken to fly from San Francisco to Chicago, but she really would have thought that it was glaringly clear that Becca was
not
a flashy-colored leopard-print girl. She
wished
she were a flashy-colored leopard-print girl, but she
knew
she was a taupe-luggage girl. Sure, she’d tied a purple band around the handle so that her plain-Jane baggage would stand out from the rest, but the luggage itself was still boring, safe, run-of-the-mill taupe.

But maybe this woman, who Becca barely knew, saw something in her that she herself didn’t see. After taking several psych classes over the years, Becca knew that most people’s perceptions of themselves were drastically different than the reality of what others saw them as. Still, it was hard for her to believe that anyone would see her as flashy or risk-taking, which, in Becca’s opinion, was exactly what neon-green-and-bright-pink luggage screamed of its owner.

“Nope, that’s not mine,” Becca answered, feeling a twinge of disappointment that it wasn’t, her eyes following the loud suitcase as it passed by.

Taking a deep breath, Becca tried to calm her jittery nerves and racing heart as she stood in the baggage claim area watching the conveyor belt go round and round. Her mind was so scattered that she wasn’t sure if she’d missed her plain-Jane suitcases or if they just hadn’t made an appearance yet. She’d been standing here for, at least, fifteen minutes with the sole task of grabbing her luggage. Simple, right? Yeah, not so much.

Her mind kept getting sidetracked by the fact that, any second now, her ride would be here. Any second now, she would come face to face with
her
Brian. Her best friend in the whole world. Star of her extremely inappropriate (naughty!) dreams.

They really had gotten worse over the past six months since the wedding. The wedding she only remembered bits and pieces of thanks to her good friend Jose Cuervo. What had begun as one shot to loosen up after finals had turned out to be a slippery slope of alcoholic consumption. After taking one too many turns on the slip-n-slide of shots, a lot of the evening was a total blank or at least
really
fuzzy.

Except one moment. The kiss. Becca clearly remembered being lip to lip with her lifelong best friend, Brian. At least she
thought
that’s what she remembered. She wasn’t sure what had led up to the smooch or what had transpired after, but that moment seemed as real as it could be, and for the life of her, she could not erase it from her memory. It was permanently tattooed on her consciousness.

Every few seconds, Becca glanced over her shoulder, furiously scanning the sea of people who stood around her. Brian was hard to miss. At almost six foot four, he towered over most people. His height had always been a source of frustration for Brian, probably because he’d reached his current stature before they’d even graduated from middle school. Becca remembered him
literally
having growing pains all of eighth grade.

Growing up, she’d always found his height comforting and endearing. And for the last year—she was embarrassed to admit—she’d found it
sexy
. Maybe it was because, as an adult, he’d filled out so nicely. Where he used to be tall and gangly, he was now tall and oh-my-lord, fan-yourself, swoon-worthy
hot
.

Stop it!
Becca chided herself. She
seriously
had to lock that kind of thinking down before coming face to face with the unknowing, unwitting, unsuspecting recipient of her newfound appreciation of said panty-melting physique.

Focus on the plan
. She needed to get her luggage. Find Brian. Greet him normally. Then, casually, in an oh-so-platonic fashion, catch up and visit on the ride back to Harper’s Crossing. That’s all. No biggie. Easy breezy.

Spotting a bright, polka-dotted, rectangular, hard-covered suitcase, she decided that it would be her starting point. If it came around again and she still hadn’t spotted her own bags, then she would know she hadn’t missed them.

“Oh look, dear. Isn’t that your boyfriend?” Stella’s hand rested on Becca’s forearm as she nodded her head in the direction of the ticket counters.

Becca’s heart was pounding so hard that she feared that there was a very distinct possibility it was going to pump right up her neck and out her mouth. Luckily, as a pre-med student, she knew that it was physically impossible. She turned her head in what felt like slow motion towards the area Stella had indicated. Sure enough, Brian was headed her way, easily navigating through the crowded airport in sure and confident strides.

As he made his way closer, everything stopped. Her world stopped turning. She stopped breathing. Where mere seconds ago her heart had felt like it was beating furiously, it now felt as if it had stopped all together.

After a few moments, she began detecting movement in her body. Her hands tingled as if coming back to life after having fallen asleep. Her stomach flipped like it was Jack and Jill tumbling down the hill. The area below her stomach was pulsing as fast as her heart had been moments before. Hey, maybe that’s where her heartbeat had migrated to.

Be normal. Act normal
, she reminded herself.

Becca watched Brian brush his light-brown hair off his forehead as his head turned from side to side, searching the crowd. Where he was easy to spot, Becca was not. At five foot three—on a good day—and average dark hair covering her head, Becca didn’t exactly stand out in a crowd.

Somehow, Brian always managed to find her though. He used to joke that locating Becca in a crowd of people was like playing “Where’s Waldo”. To which she’d say that it was probably easy for him to play since he was a giraffe. The ongoing joke had even inspired Halloween costumes their senior year of high school.

Becca still remembered how shocked she had been to open the door, dressed head to toe as Waldo on her way to the dance, to find Brian standing on her porch in a giraffe costume. They hadn’t planned it. In fact, their costumes had been top secret so that the other wouldn’t know. They’d both doubled over in hysterics, laughing so hard that they couldn’t speak.

That’s how it had always been between them. In sync. Easy. Fun.

Which was why she’d felt so off-balance this past year since her feelings had evolved into something more. Not being on the same page with Brian had been a struggle. During every interaction they’d had, whether it was a phone call, FaceTime, Skype, e-mail, or text, she’d constantly second-guessed herself, wondering if she was behaving the way she always had pre-when-did-Brian-become-so-ridiculously-hot days.

The moment his search landed on her and their eyes met, the tiny hairs on the back of Becca’s arms and neck stood tall at attention. When his lips parted, revealing perfect, white teeth and the dimple on his left cheek, Becca’s knees weakened. When his deep voice greeted her, she grew lightheaded with desire.

“Hey, Beckles,” Brian said, calling her by the nickname he’d adopted for her in first grade as he pulled her into a warm embrace.

When Becca was young, she’d had her fair share of freckles sprinkled over her nose. She’d never liked them, but Brian had done his best to convince her that they were cool. Part of his campaign had led to the nickname, and as Becca had grown up, she’d realized that, for a six-year-old boy, giving her a nickname was the coolest thing ever.

“Hey, Bri.” Becca tried to steady her shaky voice as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

His large hand threaded through her hair, holding her head tightly against his chest. “I missed you,” he said as he kissed the crown of her head.

“Same here.” Becca hoped that he couldn’t feel her heart pounding like it was trying out for a drum line against his firm abs.

Arousal spread through Becca’s body like cream poured into coffee. Soon, her entire being was filled with it. Obviously, her hormones were not heeding the pep talk she had given them on the plane ride. Logically, she knew that Brian’s outpouring of affection did not have any sexual undertones whatsoever. He’d always been very demonstrative and affectionate with the people close to him, the people he cared about. And Brian did care about her—love her, even—as a friend.

That’s what they were—friends.

* * *

Brian was desperately trying to think about anything other than how good the soft curves of Becca’s body felt against him. His hand rubbed up and down the smooth slope of her spine as she melted into him. The pillowy fullness of her breasts pressed against his stomach, causing a fiery need to ignite inside of him like a wildfire.

He closed his eyes as his fingers grazed her scalp, running through the silky strands of her long, shiny, dark hair, and inhaled the sweet citrus-and-vanilla smell that was unique to Becca Sloan. The scent that had always made him feel happier, lighter, and calm.

Now, her enticing aroma rocketed his body into sensory overload. It flamed the fires already burning inside of him. His jeans were starting to get more than a little snug beneath his fly, but he didn’t want to pull away from her before he normally would. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was draw attention to the fact that anything was off or different about their dynamic.

This was Becca. He reminded himself of the pep talk he’d given to himself on the drive over. This was his Becca. The person who always had his back. His confidant. She was more than just his best friend—she was a part of him. Without her, the world didn’t make sense to Brian.

Which was why he
had
to ignore the fact that, ever since she’d surprised the hell out of him by kissing him senseless, after he’d made sure that she’d made it safely back to her room at her sister Haley’s wedding, he hadn’t been able to think of her the same way. Or stop thinking about her at all.

No matter what he did to put her back in the friend zone, she kept slipping out of it when his thoughts would turn to the way her lips had felt against his, to the way her talented tongue had explored his mouth, teasing and seducing him in sensual torment. The soft moans that had triggered the most primal reaction in his body, filling him with raging testosterone-fueled hormones.

Only when she’d tried to unbutton his pants had he been able to put a stop to their unbelievably passionate kiss. Pulling away from Becca, telling her that “
this can’t happen
” had been one of the most difficult things he’d ever had to do. For a brief moment, he’d been scared that she was going to start crying. He’d seen the tears pooling in her eyes. Thankfully, she’d mumbled something incoherent about a lobster and flopped on the bed, passing out cold.

Now, as he stood in a crowded airport, people bumping into him as he held his
friend
, he knew he needed to pull away from her again. The problem was that, any time they’d gone a long period without seeing each other, he’d
always
given her long hugs. So he had a decision to make—act a little out of character (which, if push came to shove and she called him on it, he could attribute to being in a rush or stress) or keep holding her, and risk the evidence of his body’s response to her starting to poke her in the hip (something there really was no other viable explanation for, other than the fact that he wanted her…badly).

Opening his eyes, he was saved from either fate when he saw her luggage coming down the baggage carousel. Releasing his arms from around her, he stepped forward and reached out, grabbing both easily.

“My, my, my. Isn’t that chivalrous?” an older woman who was standing next to Becca observed, smiling up at Brian, her deep-set eyes sparkling with life and surrounded by wrinkled skin.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Becca blurted out.

Brian glanced down at her, his brows raised in surprise. He’d heard her say those same four words at least a hundred times over the years, but never had they held such a defensive tone before.

Looking up at him with a sheepish expression on her porcelain face, Becca brushed her hair behind her ear and shook her head a little. “Sorry. Brian, this is Stella. Stella, this is my
friend
Brian.”

After setting one of the suitcases he’d just retrieved from the rotating conveyor belt down on the linoleum floor, Brian extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, Stella.”

“Oooh, and manners, too. This one is a keeper.” Stella winked and smiled as she placed her hand in Brian’s.

Becca sighed and shrugged in resignation, clearly conveying that she was giving up. He wasn’t exactly sure what the conversation had been leading up to his arrival, but something told him that what he’d heard had not been the first time Becca had informed Stella of their relationship status.

“Thanks.” Becca’s vivid blue eyes peeked up at him from beneath thick, dark lashes as her hand gestured to the bags he’d gotten for her.