**This is the second installment of Seasons of Life. Click here to read Seasons of Life: Friendship.**

Samantha:

Huffing and puffing harder than a steam locomotive, I race up the main stairs of the Student Union and down the hall to meet Gage. There’s a stitch in my side when I round the massive column into the small alcove with two small tables and a few comfortable wingback chairs. Gage glances up from his laptop as I skid to a stop and drop my loaded backpack, which bounces his laptop sideways.

His dimple appears as an easy smile spreads across his face. “You made it. I was beginning to wonder if you would.” 

“Didn’t you get my text?” I shrug out of my coat and pull my hair off my sweaty neck. The forty degree weather might have frozen my hands on my drive over, but the rest of me still feels the effect of pulling pizzas out of the oven for five hours plus sprinting up a flight of stairs.

“I did.” His gaze flits over my flour dusted black shirt and grease stained khakis I wear to work. “What are the chances you ate dinner while working?”

“We were slammed tonight.” I plop down in the chair and stretch my legs out under the table. “Everyone wants pizza while they study for finals. I didn’t have a chance to eat.”

“I thought so.” He reaches into his backpack and then hands me a something wrapped in plain brown paper. “It’s your favorite.”

“Thank you.” My mouth waters as I unwrap a bacon cheeseburger from the grill downstairs. I take a big bite and chew. It’s divine.

This is why I love him.

“You got a little something on your face.” Gage holds up a napkin.

Before I can grab the napkin, he leans over and dabs at the corner of my mouth. My whole body freezes. I forget to breathe.

After studying my face for a long second, he drops the crumpled napkin on the table. He turns back to his laptop and starts working like the world didn’t just stand still.

That is why I will never tell him how I feel.

Gage:

I’m clicking through the open tabs on my laptop, but I’m not paying attention to any of them. Samantha obviously didn’t like me cleaning her face like she’s some kind of baby. And, honestly, she has a valid point. I would never ever wipe Mike’s or Landon’s faces. Just because she’s my best friend and a girl doesn’t mean I have the liberty to invade her personal space.

Yeah, okay. I shouldn’t have done it.

But… here’s the thing.

The intense guilt I felt for flirting with Sam while my best friend, Jim, died alone in the hospital nearly two years ago has dissipated over the last few months. My desire to climb out of this self-imposed friend zone increases every time I see Sam, which happens multiple times daily. I know how to make her smile and laugh. I know her favorite foods, her love of mystery books, and her secret addiction to Hallmark Christmas movies. I even know which kind of tampons she uses.

I know everything except how to make her understand I want more than friendship. Nothing I have done over the past couple of months has worked.

Samantha:

I look up from the cheeseburger to see Gage’s shoulders slump as he lets out a soft sigh. He stares at screen of his laptop. I lean closer to get a better look. It’s a Google doc of the materials science terms and definitions we compiled through the semester. “Are you that worried about the final?”

“What?” He blinks a few times. “Oh, this… I just thought… It won’t hurt to review the basics before we dive into the rest.”

“We’re toast if we can’t remember things like,” I check the screen and read, “chirality and crystallinity.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “You skipped amorphous.”

“Seriously?” I roll my eyes. “You’re amorphous.”

“Who me?” His dimple blooms as he lifts his arm to the level of my eyes. His bicep bulges underneath the long sleeved t-shirt he’s wearing as he curls his arm and flexes. “No way. See, I have definition and form.”

The muscles and dimple wreak havoc on my insides, but I have lots of practice of pretending not to notice, especially lately. Then I catch one of the vocabulary words out of the corner of my eye, and the temptation is too great, especially since his bicep hovers in front of my face. I set down the cheeseburger and wrap my hands around his muscle. Batting my eyelashes, I lower my voice and coo, “Oh, Gage. You’re so strong and manly, I’m hitting my melting point.”

Gage:

I know she’s joking. I recognize the materials science term, but that doesn’t stop the warmth spiraling up my arm at her touch. And that husky voice. It’s killing me, but I’m desperate enough to want more of this intoxicating torture. “I had no idea materials science vocabulary could be so sexy.”

The fluttering of lashes stops as her eyes widen. Her jaw drops just enough that her lips part. “Really?”

“Definitely.” My heart hammers as I lean closer and whisper the absolute truth in her ear. “My heart is amorphous in your hands.”

Samantha:

The memory of our professor kneading a gob of silly putty while she explained the properties of amorphous materials flashes through my head. Gage basically just said his heart is putty in my hands. Did this room just get ten degrees warmer, or is it just me? Talk about melting point. I’d fan myself, but my hands are full of solid muscle.

Oh my word… I’m still holding his bicep like some lovelorn imbecile.

I drop my hands to my lap as heat climbs my cheeks.

Gage’s low chuckle rumbles in my ear and vibrates down my spine. His face is close enough to the side of my head that my hair moves when he breathes. If I turn my head we’ll be lip to lip. I’m so tempted, but I squelch the thought and smooth my jeans with trembling hands. “This isn’t studying.”

“Sure it is.” Gage leans his elbow on the table and props his head up with his chin. His dimple flickers in and out of existence as he gazes at me. “I’ll never forget the meaning of melting point and amorphous now.”

I relax my white knuckle grip on my knees and force a smile. “Too bad it isn’t a vocab test.”

 His brows raise a fraction. “Maybe not, but I bet you can’t find a way to flirt with the rest of these words.”

Gage:

Sam’s competitive streak kicks in with the narrowing of her eyes and pursing of her lips. She leans closer and cranes her neck to see the laptop over my shoulder. This close I can smell the undertones of her vanilla perfume under the slightly stronger scent of pizza and bacon cheeseburger. She’s dinner and dessert wrapped in the cutest package imaginable, from those green eyes, the smattering of freckles across her nose, and those pink kissable lips just out of my reach. That’s a distance I dream of bridging far more often than not.

Of course, I immediately notice when the corner of her mouth perks up. She leans back in her chair and folds her arms. There’s a wicked gleam in her eye. “I hope your thermal stability is high enough for the heat I’m about to bring.”

“Ah, thermal stability, the ability to resist breaking under high heat. That’s pretty good.” I grin at her.

“I thought so.” Her lips stretch into a grin that exceeds mine. “So what’ve you got, Romeo?”

The star crossed lovers reference stings a little, but she just gave me the perfect opening. Hopefully, her thermal stability can’t resist what I hope is the piece de resistance.

I stay propped up like I am, but with my other hand I reach out and tuck some hair behind her ear. My eyes never leave hers when I drop my hand to her shoulder and run light fingers down her bicep and across her forearm to where her hand is tucked into her other elbow. She doesn’t resist when I slide my hand underneath her arm and gently tug her hand free. In fact, she doesn’t seem to be breathing, but, honestly, that makes two of us.

“I’m not worried about my thermal stability with you, Sam.” Bringing her hand to my lips I press a kiss to her knuckles. She sucks in her bottom lip. “I know that no matter how high the heat between us burns, I am not a thermoset that will burn and char into nothing. With you, I am a thermoplastic that can be melted and molded over and over again into the perfect match for you.”

Samantha:

His mesmerizing dark eyes never leave mine as he kisses my hand a second time. It’s so hot in here that there isn’t any oxygen left for my lungs. We’ve shot way past my melting point, a message my body seems to receive since it sags forward until I’m inches from his face.

Our entwined hands fall to rest on my knees as his gaze darts to my mouth and back. Gage lifts his head from his hand. He moves in slow motion until his hand cradles my cheek. His thumb brushes the corner of my mouth.

My heart leaps and then revs into overdrive as his smooth thumb skims across my bottom lip. Closing my eyes, I lose myself in the moment.

Gage:

This is it. What happens next will change everything, but I love her too much to live with the regret of not trying. It’s now or never, and never is not an option, I slide my hand to the side of her head and thread my fingers into her hair. Fire rushes through my veins as my lips brush against hers.

Samantha:

I’m tempted to pinch myself because this has to be a dream. I’m going to wake up and dissolve into tears because there is no way this light as air kiss is real. It’s all part of his teasing challenge to flirt using our dumb vocabulary list.

The realization douses my inner fire better than a bucket of icy water could.

I jerk back and jump to my feet. My chair bounces off the wall as I ignore his wide startled eyes and make a blind grab for my backpack and coat.

Gage:

My heart cracks as Sam flees. She’s halfway around the column before I’m on my feet, chasing her. “Wait, Sam. Please.”

She stops with her back to me.

I skid to a halt in front of her. “You can’t leave like this.”

“I have to go.” She refuses to look at me. “I forgot I have to do … something.”

“But we’re supposed to be studying tonight.”

Her head shoots up. She glares at me. “Exactly, Gage. We’re supposed to be studying, not making a joke out of flirting and …” Red creeps into her cheeks. “Kissing isn’t a joke. You shouldn’t tease people like that.”

Samantha:

Gage’s head jerks back like I slapped him. His hands clench into fists at his sides. There’s no warmth in his eyes or his voice when he asks, “How many girls have I asked out since we met?”

“None.”

“That’s right.” His eyes hold mine captive. “How many girls do you think I’ve kissed in the last two years?”

My insides squirm under his unblinking gaze. “Probably none.”

“Not probably. Emphatically none.”

I swallow my questions and give him a weak nod.

“Do you think kissing is a joke to me?” His chocolate brown eyes bore into mine. “Do you honestly think I would tease you like that? You’re my best friend.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m your friend.” Bitterness leaks into my voice and taints the word friend.

Gage:

Recognizing the bleak hopelessness in her expression, I make a split second decision.

Samantha:

Something sparks in Gage’s eyes. He takes a step forward. Then another. I shrink against the column, but he keeps advancing until there’s only a few millimeters separating us.

My back presses against the column. The backpack and coat dangling from my hands weigh about a thousand pounds. My heart thumps an erratic beat. Under the intensity of his gaze, I am trapped, prey waiting for the hunter to strike.

With gentle fingers that belie the fire in his eyes, Gage tucks my hair behind my ears and then cups my cheeks in his palms. He rests his forehead against mine. The tip of his nose grazes mine. Our breaths mingle when he whispers, “You are so much more than my best friend, Samantha. You’re my world. I love you.”

Gage:

A warm tear hits my thumb and follows the outline of my hand. I lift my head and meet Sam’s earnest gaze. In a tremulous voice she asks, “Do you really mean it?”

“Would I do this if I didn’t?” I close the small space between us.

As my lips meet hers, her coat and backpack crash to the floor. Her hands run up my chest and circle my neck. She pulls me closer until I don’t know where she begins and I end, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

To be continued…