Finding Lily

Chapter Eleven

I returned to my room, my mind buzzing with excitement at the prospect of spending time with Oliver. A quick, invigorating shower helped rid me of most of the sand, and I eagerly rummaged through my drawer for an outfit. My fingers settled on the cutest dress I owned, a white spaghetti-strap dress that Rose often praised. As I examined myself in the mirror, my usual insecurities surfaced. I was petite, with freckles scattered across my pale skin, and my hair flowed past my shoulders like a waterfall.

Knock, knock.

Startled, I grabbed the nearest book I could find before cautiously opening the door. To my surprise, it wasn't Oliver but Jeremiah standing there, his chest heaving from what seemed like a sprint to reach my room.

"Jeremiah?" I exclaimed, my voice betraying my shock. "What are you doing here?"

Breathless, he managed to ask, "Can I come in?"

I was baffled by his sudden visit, and my curiosity compelled me to step aside and let him enter. I stepped aside, allowing Jeremiah to enter. He walked in, looking slightly anxious, and I closed the door behind him. He cleared his throat and turned to face me.

"I wanted to talk to you," Jeremiah began, his voice gentle. "About what happened at the beach earlier."

"Oh," I said, my heart rate quickening. "What about it?"

"I know you said that you made your decision," he said, his voice trembling with a mix of hope and uncertainty. His intense gaze bore into me, his warm eyes now cooler, a stark contrast to his usual demeanor. "I just wanted to do something, and it might not change your mind, but at least I won't regret it."

"Okay," I whispered, my heart pounding in my chest.

Without another word, he closed the distance between us in just two swift strides. Jeremiah's lips met mine, his kiss both gentle and urgent. His hands tenderly cradled my face while his fingers pressed firmly against the back of my head, keeping me close. Jeremiah was taller than me, and the angle made the kiss slightly awkward, straining my neck as I tilted my head upward. I felt a twinge of discomfort from the unfamiliar position.

Sensing my struggle, Jeremiah effortlessly scooped me up into his arms. My legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as my arms clung to his neck, securing my hold. The kiss continued, soft and consuming, sending waves of warmth and confusion through me.

I was kissing Jeremiah. Jeremiah! My mind raced with a whirlwind of emotions, and for that moment, I allowed myself to get lost in the kiss, savoring the sweetness and tenderness of his lips. His gentle kisses enveloped me like a warm embrace, and every fleeting moment seemed to stretch into eternity.

Without breaking the kiss, Jeremiah pressed me gently against the wall, eliciting an involuntary moan from my lips. The sound made us both chuckle for a brief moment, the tension easing into a more comfortable atmosphere.

Our lips moved in a rhythm that was new and yet oddly familiar. It was a tender dance, a silent conversation of shared feelings and unspoken words. I could feel his heartbeat against my chest, echoing my own erratic pulse.

Jeremiah broke the kiss, his breath ragged, and gently set me down. He gazed at me with his warm, loving eyes, and it pained me to know that I couldn't reciprocate those same feelings. With his kiss, it became abundantly clear that my feelings for him were rooted solely in friendship. "I'm sorry," he said softly, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "I couldn't help myself. I need to do that..."

I swallowed, still trying to process what had just happened. "Jere..."

He nodded, even though I hadn't said anything yet, a hint of disappointment but also understanding in his eye. "Of course, I just don't want to go down without a fight. At least now, I'm done."

"I'm sorry," I replied, offering a reassuring smile. We stood there silently acknowledging the shift in our relationship, the unspoken promise that our friendship would endure.

"I better get going then," Jeremiah suggested, steering the conversation toward lighter topics. I nodded following Jeremiah behind. When he opened the door both of us stopped in our tracks to see Oliver standing in my doorway. His face was shocked clearly he knew what had happened. 

My lips throbbed, a constant reminder of the passionate kiss we'd shared just moments ago. Jeremiah's shirt was slightly wrinkled, his hair tousled, and his eyes still held traces of the emotions that had passed between us.

Before I could say anything, the room was filled with tension as Oliver's fist connected with Jeremiah's jaw. The force of the blow sent Jeremiah stumbling backward, and a sharp gasp escaped my lips. My heart raced as I watched the two men, both dear to me, locked in a charged standoff.

"Oliver," I began, my voice quivering with a mix of shock and uncertainty. What could I say to make sense of this situation? How could I explain the complex web of emotions that had led to that kiss?

But Oliver's attention was not on me; it was directed squarely at Jeremiah. His eyes betrayed a whirlwind of emotions—hurt, jealousy, and pain, all simmering beneath the surface.

Jeremiah, still recovering from the punch, met Oliver's gaze with a mixture of surprise and bewilderment. He wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth and listened as Oliver spoke, his voice dripping with frustration.

"I asked for your blessing," Oliver said, his words heavy with accusation, "You know I liked her, and I asked for your damn blessing."

"Oliver," I rushed forward, placing myself between them, my voice desperately trying to mediate. "It's not like that. I never intended for this to happen."

He shook his head, his eyes still locked on Jeremiah. "You knew how I felt about her, Jere. You knew."

Jeremiah, regaining his composure, held up his hands in a calming gesture. "Oliver, it's not as straightforward as that. Feelings are complex."

"It is," I interjected, my voice firm. "Jeremiah and I have known each other for so long, and things got complicated. I never wanted to hurt anyone."

Oliver clenched his fists, struggling to contain his emotions. "Complex? You're telling me it's complex?"

"Oliver, please, listen." I pleaded but I knew that it was not going anywhere as he kept ignoring me, not meeting my eyes. 

"Forget it. Just forget it." 

Oliver's frustration was evident, his face contorted with a mix of anger, confusion, and disappointment. His knuckles were white as he balled his hands into fists at his sides, the tension in his body reflecting the turmoil within.

Jeremiah, standing nearby, looked torn, caught between his loyalty to me and his understanding of Oliver's hurt. His expression conveyed a deep sense of regret, as if he wished things had turned out differently, that this pain could have been avoided.

I swallowed hard, feeling a lump in my throat. Seeing Oliver like this hurt more than I expected. I had known he cared for me, but the depth of his feelings was something I hadn't fully comprehended until now.

"Oliver," I said again, my voice gentle but pleading. "We'll talk, okay? Please."

He finally looked at me, his eyes meeting mine, and for a moment, I saw the vulnerability hidden behind his frustration. But then, as if steeling himself, he turned away, his shoulders tense.

"I need some space," he muttered, walking away from the situation, leaving me feeling torn and heartbroken.

Jeremiah put a comforting hand on my shoulder, silently supporting me. I wished for a way to heal this rift, a way to mend our friendships, but at that moment, it felt like an impossible task.