More Than Friends by Erin Dutton Page A

Evelyn forced herself to turn away.
    “Okay.” She drew the word out, trying to keep the image of Melanie’s full breasts from imprinting itself in her mind. She jerked open the nearest dresser drawer, muttering to herself, “T-shirts. Where are the T-shirts?”
    “Second drawer down,” Melanie answered.
    She grabbed the first one she saw, spun back around, and froze. Melanie stood in the middle of the room, making no effort to cover herself. Only the tan lines on her biceps and her rosy nipples broke up the creamy skin of her torso. When Melanie started working at the fly of her jeans, Evelyn threw the shirt at her on her way out of the bedroom. “I—uh—I’ll give you some privacy.”
    As she wandered through the apartment, giving Melanie time to change, she noticed things missing. Picture frames, a lamp, Kendall’s favorite chair, all things that now resided in Kendall’s new condo. Their absence left deep shadows.
    Over time, Melanie would probably bring in new things to fill those spaces, or maybe when the lease expired, she’d move someplace else entirely. Tonight, Melanie and Kendall had both taken steps toward adapting to their new lives.
    Kendall’s social nature helped her cope. She was always the first one to chat up the new rookies on their shift. And her return to dating hadn’t surprised Evelyn anymore than Melanie’s reluctance to do so. Melanie needed time to think, to reflect, and—she would say—to process.
    Evelyn sat down on the sofa and swept a hand over the cool leather. Countless nights, she’d hung out here with the two of them. She hadn’t expected the adjustment to be so polarizing for her. Initially, she’d rushed to defend Kendall because she’d seemed so broken right after the breakup, but tonight she’d seen vulnerability in Melanie as well.
    She’d been concentrating so much on each of her friends that she hadn’t given much thought to how the change would affect her. She hadn’t considered the void their former relationship left in her life. Maybe Melanie and Kendall’s breakup had been more stressful for her than she thought. Perhaps that’s why she’d had a lapse back there in the bedroom.
    For a moment, when Melanie had taken off her sweater, she’d seen Melanie as a woman—not as Kendall’s girl. And when Melanie reached for the fly of her jeans, the jolt of arousal that shot through her had been dulled only by the wave of guilt that followed. She’d always thought Melanie was beautiful, and maybe she’d even had a bit of a crush on her. Who wouldn’t? Melanie was amazing.
    But Kendall was like a sister. By extension, shouldn’t the sledgehammer of arousal Melanie’s breasts inspired feel incestuous?
    She shook her head. Nothing had happened that she needed to feel guilty about. Stress and the unfamiliar feeling of socializing with Melanie alone had caused all this craziness in her head.
    She sighed. She’d go tuck Melanie in, then head home. Certainly, she’d feel more able to cope once she’d gotten some rest. She went back down the hall. The bedroom door was open a crack and she paused outside, listening for sounds from within. She knocked softly and didn’t hear a response, so she eased the door open.
    “Melanie,” she said quietly.
    Melanie came out of the bathroom wearing the T-shirt Evelyn had tossed at her. Beneath the hem, her firm thighs were bare. Melanie yanked back the comforter and flopped onto the bed.
    “Okay, it’s bedtime.” She eased the sheet over Melanie. “Sweet dreams, I’ll call you tomorrow.” When she turned to leave, Melanie rolled over and caught her hand.
    “Stay.”
    “Mel—”
    “Please.” When Melanie tilted her face, the bedside lamp illuminated the loneliness in her eyes.
    She sighed, climbed onto the bed next to her, and stretched out on her back. She’d stay until Melanie fell asleep.
    “Thank you,” Melanie whispered, as Evelyn switched off the lamp.
    Melanie moved closer and rested her head on her