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“Five years.”

My breath catches, because I can’t believe he might actually give me a real answer.

“What?”

“I’ve waited five fucking years to taste your lips.” His voice is quieter now. “I wasn’t doing it when there was even a chance you wouldn’t remember.”

Everything inside me goes still.

Five years.

Not five weeks.

Not five days.

Not since I moved into his apartment.

Not since the couch.

Not since seeing me in his jersey.

Five years.

“You wanted to kiss me? For five years?”

His gaze stays on my mouth.

“Want.” He corrects me.

Present tense.

My heart beats so hard against my ribs, you’d think I just watched Colin Firth or Jonathan Bailey emerge from a lake in a soaking wet shirt. Or better yet, Hayes Bishop.

“For five years?”

“Yeah.”

“But—”

The North Pines formal flashes through my head.

A bathroom hallway. A conversation I wasn’t supposed to hear.

She’s like a sister to me.

I don’t see her like that.

I only brought her as a favor to Coach.

I push it away.

Not tonight.

“You never said anything.”

His laugh holds no humor. “Your brother is my best friend.”

“I know.”