Almost, But Never Me

Chapter One

Tessa

It started the way it always started with them—slow, familiar, almost careful. Adrian’s mouth on hers in the dim afternoon light, his hand sliding under her shirt, then lower, over the waistband of her shorts. Tessa’s pulse jumped, then settled into something flatter, more watchful. She had pictured this so many times that the real thing felt like she was watching it happen to someone else.

He eased her onto her back. She let him. Her shirt rode up; his stayed on. He pushed her shorts and underwear down only far enough that the fabric bunched at her thighs, then did the same to his own jeans, shoving them and his boxers just past his hips. The air felt cool on the newly exposed skin. Then he settled over her, the hard line of him pressing against the soft heat between her legs with only thin cotton and the dampness of her own body between them.

He rolled his hips once, testing.

The friction was immediate—rough denim edge, the ridge of him dragging against her through the fabric of her underwear. Tessa’s breath caught. Not from pleasure. From the sudden, inescapable awareness of how much of her there was under him: the give of her stomach, the way her thighs spread to make room, the press of her breasts against his chest even with clothes still in the way. She turned her face toward the pillow so he wouldn’t see whatever was on it.

Adrian found a rhythm. Slow at first, then deeper, grinding down so that every forward push dragged him along her clit through the wet cotton. The sound was quiet and obscene—fabric on fabric, skin catching, the faint wet slide when he pressed harder. His breathing changed. He braced one forearm beside her head, the other hand gripping her hip, fingers sinking into the soft flesh there the way they always did when he was concentrating.

She moved with him because it seemed required. Small lifts of her hips, the kind that made the contact tighter. Each grind sent a dull, localized heat through her, enough to make her body respond in the mechanical ways bodies do—slicker, warmer, her underwear clinging. It never gathered into anything that felt like it belonged to her. It stayed at the surface, like someone rubbing a spot that should have been sensitive and finding only pressure.

Adrian’s mouth opened against her neck. He made a low sound she had never heard from him before. His pace picked up. The bed frame gave a soft, rhythmic creak. Tessa stared at the ceiling and counted the golden lines the light made through the curtains. She felt the exact shape of him against her, the way he thickened and pushed harder, the way his hips started to lose their careful control. She felt her own body shift slightly with each thrust, the parts of herself she had spent years trying to hold still.

He came like that—still mostly dressed, still outside her—with a sharp inhale and a final, grinding press that left a warm, wet patch soaking through both layers of fabric between them. His weight settled heavier for a few seconds. Then he rolled off.

They lay tangled in the sheets, the afternoon light slipping through the curtains in thin golden lines.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

Tessa stared at the ceiling, trying to understand what she was supposed to feel. She had imagined this moment before. More times than she would ever admit. She had imagined what it would be like to be close to Adrian. What it would feel like to have his hands on her, to finally cross that invisible line that had existed between them since they were teenagers.

But she had never imagined feeling nothing.

Not exactly nothing. There had been warmth. Nervousness. The strange awareness of his body so close to hers. But the spark she had expected—the one she’d heard other women talk about, the one that was supposed to make everything inside you come alive—wasn’t there.

Tessa turned her head. Adrian was still beside her, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. His dark hair was disheveled, and there was a faint sheen of sweat across his forehead. He looked satisfied. She didn’t.

His eyes found hers. “Did you feel anything?”

Tessa blinked. “What?”

He shifted onto one elbow, studying her face. “Did you feel anything?”

She swallowed. Adrian’s voice was softer this time. “Did you… you know?”

She knew exactly what he meant. Tessa slowly shook her head. “No.”

His eyebrows pulled together. “No?”

“I don’t know.” She looked away. “I just… I feel nothing.”

He stared at her for a moment. Tessa hated the confusion in his expression.

“Nothing’s happening with me, Adrian,” she said quietly. “No matter what you do, it’s like…” She struggled to find the words. “It’s not there.”

He was quiet. She pulled the sheet closer around herself. She had expected awkwardness. She hadn’t expected to feel defective.

Adrian reached over and brushed a loose strand of hair away from her forehead. “Don’t worry, Tess.” She looked at him. “Just give it time.” His smile was reassuring, almost tender. “Everything’s going to happen eventually. We’ll keep trying, and you’ll understand what it feels like.”

Tessa forced a small smile. She wanted to believe him. Maybe something was wrong with her. Maybe she simply needed more time. Maybe this was what growing up was supposed to feel like.

She had spent most of her life wondering what it would be like to finally feel desired by someone. Especially by Adrian. He had known her since childhood. He had seen her at thirteen, when she was all knees and elbows and oversized sweatshirts. He had seen her at sixteen, when she had started changing and becoming painfully aware of every part of herself. He had seen her at eighteen, when she stopped going to parties because she couldn’t stand being the only girl in the room who felt uncomfortable in everything she wore. He had seen all of it. And somehow, despite all those years, she had never been able to figure out what he really saw when he looked at her.

Before she could say anything else, Adrian sat up. The tenderness in his expression disappeared almost as quickly as it had appeared. He reached for his clothes scattered across the floor. Tessa watched silently as he pulled on his jeans. The room suddenly felt colder.

He picked up his shirt. “What time is it?”

Tessa glanced toward the nightstand. “Almost three.”

He cursed under his breath. “I need to go.”

She sat up. “Already?”

Adrian looked at her. “I’ve got somewhere to be.”

Something inside her sank. “Oh.”

He pulled his shirt over his head and reached for his shoes. Tessa watched him dress. There was something strangely painful about seeing how quickly he could return to normal. Like the last hour—or however long they’d spent crossing that line—hadn’t changed anything. Maybe it hadn’t. Maybe that was the problem.

Adrian grabbed his phone from the nightstand. “I don’t want anybody seeing me coming out of here.”

Tessa’s stomach tightened. She looked at him. “Why?”

He gave her a confused look. “Why what?”

“Why can’t anybody see you coming out of my dorm?”

“Tess…”

“We’ve been friends since childhood.”

“I know.”

“We’ve known each other forever.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you acting like you have something to hide?”

Adrian sighed. “Come on, Tess. Don’t start.”

Her face burned. “Don’t start what?”

“This.” He buttoned his shirt. “We talked about this.”

“No, we didn’t.”

“We both knew this wasn’t supposed to become a big thing.”

Tessa stared at him. A bitter little laugh escaped her. “A big thing?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Do I?”

He looked away. That hurt. More than she wanted him to know.

She pulled the sheet around herself and sat straighter. “So you’re embarrassed by me?”

Adrian’s head snapped toward her. “What?”

“You’re embarrassed by me.”

“No.”

“Then why don’t you want anybody seeing you with me?”

He rubbed his jaw. “Tessa, it’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like?”

He didn’t answer. She felt the familiar ache building in her chest. The same one she had carried for years. The one she had learned to hide.

“Is it because I’m fat?”

His expression hardened. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Turn this into something it’s not.”

Her eyes stung. “You mean you don’t want anybody seeing you with a fat girl?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Tess.”

“No, it’s fine.” She nodded quickly. “It’s actually fine.”

Adrian looked uncomfortable now. And somehow, that made everything worse. She wished he would argue. She wished he would tell her she was wrong. She wished he would look at her the way she’d secretly wanted him to look at her for years and tell her that she was beautiful.

Instead, he reached for his jacket. “Tess—” He stopped himself. “Tessa.”

The correction shouldn’t have hurt. It did.

He walked toward her and leaned down. For one brief second, she thought he was going to kiss her. Instead, he pressed a quick kiss against her cheek. “I’ll call you.”

Then he walked out. The door clicked shut behind him.

Tessa remained sitting in the middle of her bed. Alone. She stared at the door long after he was gone. Then she looked down at herself. At her body. At the curves she had spent years wishing she could hide. She pulled the sheet higher.

It was ridiculous. She knew that. She was twenty-six years old. A grown woman. And yet one careless sentence from the boy she had loved practically her entire life could still make her feel like the awkward teenager who had spent lunch hiding in the bathroom at school because someone had laughed at her body.

She closed her eyes.

Her name was Tessa Morgan. And Adrian Blake had been her rock for as long as she could remember. Not just her best friend. Not just the boy who lived three houses away. He was the person who had been there before she understood what friendship meant. Before she understood what love meant. Before she understood that sometimes the person standing closest to you could be the person you wanted most and still never truly have.

They grew up together. Side by side. Their mothers used to joke that they came as a package. If Adrian was invited somewhere, everyone knew Tessa wouldn’t be far behind. If Tessa got into trouble, Adrian somehow knew before anyone else. They had shared birthday parties, school dances, stupid arguments, summer afternoons and countless secrets.

He knew things about her she had never told anyone else. He knew she hated crowded rooms. He knew she cried when she was angry instead of yelling. He knew she would rather stay home with a book than attend some loud party where she had to spend three hours wondering whether everyone was staring at her. He knew she didn’t like being photographed. He knew she hated shopping for clothes. He knew that every time someone complimented her, she assumed they were being polite.

He knew her. At least, she thought he did.

The problem was that Adrian had never looked at her the way she wanted him to. Not openly. Not where anyone could see. Maybe there had been moments. Small ones. The way his eyes lingered sometimes. The way he’d become strangely quiet whenever another guy showed interest in her. The way he would appear whenever she needed him, even when she hadn’t asked.

But Adrian was Adrian. He could make you feel like the most important person in the world one minute and remind you that you were only his friend the next. She had spent years trying to understand which one was real.

And maybe that was why she’d done what she’d done. Because she wanted an answer. She wanted to know if there was something wrong with her. She wanted to know what it felt like to be wanted. Not pitied. Not tolerated. Not treated like the funny, shy, curvy friend who was safe because nobody would ever choose her.

She wanted to feel like a woman. And the person she trusted enough to help her figure that out was Adrian.

That was the part that made everything so complicated. She hadn’t chosen a stranger. She hadn’t gone looking for some random man at a bar. She’d gone to the person who had known her since childhood. The person she believed would never intentionally hurt her.

And now she was lying alone in her bedroom wondering if she’d made the biggest mistake of her life.

She got out of bed and walked toward the mirror. She stood there for a long moment. Her reflection stared back at her. She had never liked her body. People called her curvy. Beautiful. Thick. They said women would pay money to have her shape. She never believed them.

All she could see were the things she wished were different. Her thighs rubbed together when she walked. Her hips were wider than most of the clothes she liked. Stretch marks crossed her waist and hips like pale little maps. Her stomach wasn’t flat. Her breasts were bigger than she wanted them to be, and she had spent years learning how to dress in a way that wouldn’t attract attention to them.

Everywhere she went, she felt like her body entered the room before she did. She hated that feeling. She hated wondering whether people were looking at her. She hated wondering whether men were laughing about her. Most of all, she hated wondering whether Adrian looked at her and saw all the things she hated too.

She touched the mirror. “What’s wrong with you?”

The question came out as a whisper. There was no answer. Of course there wasn’t.

She looked away. She’d always been shy. Not the cute kind of shy that made people want to protect you. The real kind. The kind that made you rehearse what you were going to say before making a phone call. The kind that made you delete a text five times before sending it. The kind that made you stand in the corner at parties pretending to check your phone because you didn’t know how to join a conversation.

Approaching a man was almost impossible for her. She’d rather walk across a burning bridge than walk up to a guy and flirt with him. And honestly? Most men never approached her either. So she had spent years convincing herself that romance simply wasn’t meant for her.

Then there was Adrian. Adrian had never made her feel like she was too much. At least, not when they were alone. He made her laugh. He listened. He knew when she needed silence. He’d shown up at her apartment with soup when she was sick. He’d driven two hours to help her move. He’d sat outside an emergency room all night when her mother had surgery. He knew how to make her laugh when she wanted to cry.

He was the person she called when something good happened. The person she called when something terrible happened. The person she called when she didn’t know what to do.

So perhaps she’d made the stupid mistake of assuming that because he loved her in every other way, he might eventually love her romantically too. But Adrian had never said he loved her. Not like that. And she’d never asked. Because asking meant risking the friendship. So she had stayed silent. Years of silence. Until this afternoon.

She walked back to the bed and sat down. Her phone was lying beside the pillow. She picked it up. No new messages. She stared at Adrian’s name. Her thumb hovered over it. She wanted to call him. She wanted to ask him what they were now. She wanted to ask him whether he regretted it. She wanted to ask whether he’d ever looked at her and imagined something more.

But she knew him. He’d tell her not to overthink. He’d make a joke. He’d change the subject. And she’d laugh along because that was what she always did.

She placed the phone down. Maybe she needed to stop waiting for Adrian. Maybe she needed to stop expecting him to wake up one day and suddenly realize that the girl he’d grown up with was also a woman who could be loved. Maybe she needed to find someone else. Someone who would actually see her. Someone who wouldn’t care whether she was the prettiest woman in the room. Someone who wouldn’t be ashamed to be seen with her. Someone who would choose her without making her wonder whether she had been chosen at all.

The thought made her chest ache. Because even as she imagined someone else holding her hand, some stubborn part of her still pictured Adrian. Always Adrian.

She lay back down and stared at the ceiling. Outside, a car passed slowly along the street. For years, she had believed her biggest problem was that no man wanted her. She was wrong. Her biggest problem was that the one man she wanted had never given her enough reason to believe he did.

And she was beginning to understand that sometimes uncertainty could hurt more than rejection. Because rejection gave you an answer. Adrian had given her nothing but questions.

And as she lay there listening to the quiet hum of the afternoon, one thought kept circling through her mind. Maybe it was time to stop waiting for him to notice her. Maybe she needed to make him realize what he’d been taking for granted. Even if she had no idea yet how she was going to do it