Out of Grief by EA Kafkalas Page B

order. Quinn usually found her favorite dish in any particular cuisine and then stuck with it, so I knew exactly what to order.
     
    All through dinner, I couldn’t help but feeling that there was something different about Quinn. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought she was flirting with me. But I did know better than to get my hopes up.
     
    When dinner was through, Quinn said, “I can’t do this without you, you know.”

    “Of course you can,” I said, sliding the empty cartons into the plastic bag. “You can do anything you set your mind to. You always have.”
     
    “Okay.” She took my hand. A simple act, one that shouldn’t spur such a strong ache in me, but it always did. The pain was bittersweet, I wanted to pull away, but couldn’t. Even if she would never be mine, I would always be hers, constantly longing for something that I could never have. I stood holding her hand in mine. Her delicate fingers made my hands look awkward in comparison.
     
    She pulled me on to the couch next to her. “Come here, silly.”
     
    I left an arms’ length between us. But she would have none of it. She moved closer, her knees bumped mine, and she took my other hand in hers, and squeezed it. “Then would you accept that I don’t want to do this without you?”
     
    She had to know how much I wanted what she was offering. I spent nights wishing it could be enough. Trying to will myself to not love her quite so much. But it was futile. I had to move, to think. I grabbed the plastic bag and the empty glasses. “Quinn, I have commitments here. I can’t just pick up …”
     
    “I’m not asking you to leave New York,” she said, following me into the kitchen.
     
    “You’re not?”
     
    “Nikki, look at me, please.”
     
    Something in the way she said the word please , quietly, like a prayer; no, not a prayer — a wish. I willed myself to turn and look into those brilliant blue pools she called eyes. I will not drown in them, I told myself, over and over. There was something in her eyes that wasn’t there before. A storm was brewing. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought it was desire. But I did know better. “Quinn, I—“
     
    Her finger was pressed against my lips, stopping any further comment. “I know you’re afraid, Nikki. Don’t be.”
     
    Just the feel of her fingertip against my lips was intoxicating. “It’s not that I’m afraid …” I took a deep breath, trying to think of the right words that wouldn’t frighten her away for good. “I just … I mean—“
     
    “You want more than just friendship.”
     
    If I confirmed that, would she leave? If she left, would I be able to stand it? No, that was my dilemma. I couldn’t live with her, but I certainly couldn’t survive without her. “Friendship has always been enough.” Even I wasn’t convinced by the words, uttered in a barely audible tone.
     
    She smiled. “But is it now?”
     
    Was this a test? There was no right answer. The one I wanted to give could end any possibility of ever seeing her again. No, no. I would do this. I would be there for her. I had to be. Because, the thought of losing her was more terrifying than anything I knew. “It has to be.”
     
    “But what if I want more?” She punctuated her question by leaning forward.
     
    I felt my breath hitch as I felt her breath, warm against my skin, and then her lips brushed my cheek. “What if we’re finally on the same page?” She murmured against my ear, in a voice that made my entire body cry out for more.
     
    Before I could respond, she kissed me—not a chaste kiss, but a full-blown, mind altering, passionate kiss. Her lips, softer than I had dreamt, crushed against mine. My body responded before I could stop it. I gripped the kitchen counter behind me, afraid that if I didn’t, I would grab on to her and never let go. My whole body was reveling from the feel of her lips against mine. I heard something thumping, and realized it was my