Ambrose has been in love with his best friend, Lana Hart, for years.
But she tied the knot with the love of her life three years ago, leaving Ambrose broken-hearted and disillusioned about love.
Enter Davina, the most difficult girl Ambrose has ever...
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Sadness.
Happiness.
When crushes existed, only two emotions ever came out of it. Both were the opposite of the spectrum. After realizing my feelings for Ambrose went deeper than a friendship, I already knew how this situation would go. He's in love with Lana; nothing could change that. But if I had to say silent, then I wanted to appreciate our friendship for as long as I can.
Yet, I somehow figured out a way to fuck it up.
Why on earth did I think kissing him was a good idea? The stupid moment had to feel so right, like those rom-com movies I spent months filming. But it wasn't right. Ambrose has no romantic feelings towards me. And I just kissed him. Goddamnit, wasn't I the one who promised to never cross this line again?
"Ugh!" I groaned, kicking my feet against the side of the building.
The view from the roof gave a sense of perspective that soothed my soul, that made the everyday struggles shrink. Expect for tonight. Though the stars of the black heavens to the lights of the blacktop streets were amazingly wonderful. The cityscapes told the story of us in colors, from the neon rainbow lights to the golden kitchen glowed.
My body jumped when the sound of the door slamming against the building. A shiver ran down my spine when I saw a fuzzy-haired silhouette creeping closer with something in their hand.
I gripped tighter on my jacket, and shouted, "Back off, creep! I have a knife and I'm not afraid to use it."
When in a dilemma, lie, lie and lie.
His hands were up in defense. "I was just coming here to clear my head."
His features registered in my mind when he wandered under the lights and used his empty hands to push his circular-shaped glasses. I always hated those things. They hid away the beautiful rawness of his sea-foam blue irises. We haven't spoken since the outburst during filming, but I would rather be stuck in a room with him over Ambrose.
I gnawed at my cheek. "Sorry, I didn't think anyone came up here unless they're murders or something."
Wesley placed the twelve-pack of beer on the floor and slid into the spot on the edge of the building, only a few inches away from me. Suddenly, the buttons on my jacket were the most interesting thing in the room and tried to keep the energy from shifting north.
The ringing of a beer opening filled the silence and had me craving one myself. The only good thing to come out of kissing Ambrose was stealing my two favorite wines from the table before running out like Cinderella. To my own shock, Wesley passed over a beer can on the edge, and I snatched it.
The cold beverage rolled down my throat, slightly leaving a burning sensation in its trail. Beer had an odd way of rekindling relationships, whether positively or negatively. We ended our hook-up situation in an immature, disrespectful way, and it was totally my fault. Wesley deserved to be with someone loving, trusting, caring, and many aspects, I lacked.
