James has had enough. Being in love with his best friend is not
even remotely pleasant, and he cannot take listening to one
more play by play of Evan’s adventures in bad boyfriends. So
what’s a guy to do? Give a best friend a clue and hope he gets
it—and returns the feelings that James has never been able to
confess.

Kiss Me Quick is a collection of short and sweet stories from
authors familiar and new, celebrating the season of love. Come
and enjoy these tales of misunderstandings, lonely singles,
pining lovers, and so much more! Because if there is one thing
that is never in doubt, it’s that LT3 knows the way to your heart,
and these stories are a straight shot.

Take a Chance on Me
By Liz Lambdin

Published by Less Than Three Press LLC

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or
reproduced in any manner without written permission of the
publisher, except for the purpose of reviews.

Edited by Samantha M. Derr
Cover designed by Megan Derr

This book is a work of fiction and as such all characters and
situations are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual people,
places, or events is coincidental.

First Edition February 2012
Copyright © 2012 by Liz Lambdin
Printed in the United States of America

ISBN 9781620041260

For my husband, who is eternally patient and

understanding when I don't leave my computer for a week

straight. And for my muse, who constantly inspires me in

my writing, my work, and my life.

Take a Chance on Me

Kiss Me Quick

Liz Lambdin

6 | Liz Lambdin –

Take a Chance on Me

I'm not entirely sure when I fell in love with my best friend,

but it sucked.

A lot.
It wasn't so much the fact that Evan was completely

oblivious to my affections, though that definitely sucked. It
wasn't even the fact that Evan was determined to work his way
through every bad or hopeless relationship conceivable. No, it
was the fact that Evan found it necessary to regale me with
extensive play-by-plays of all his failures.

Every. Last. Detail.
Every first kiss. Every second date. Every third fuck. And,

inevitably, every messy, disappointing, tear-filled breakup.

Maybe "sucked" wasn't a strong enough adjective.
At Halloween it was the cute little emo kid with the

chipped, black nail polish and the delicious eyebrow ring.
Personally, I thought his taste in music was superb, but Evan
assured me he came with way too much personal baggage. I got
the feeling it was more an issue of Evan not being the center of
attention often enough.

At Thanksgiving, it was the chef who made far too many

"stuffing" jokes. Yeah, we got it the first time, dude. He basted a
killer turkey, but Evan was convinced he always smelled like
fish.

By Christmas, it was the snowboarder with the killer legs.

He stuck around for a good month, mostly because he was an
excellent lay. Eventually, though, Evan realized he hated
everything to do with cold and snow, including snowboarders
who woke up at 5am on Saturdays to hit the slopes.

There was a new guy by MLK, though. He only lasted a

week, and I never met him, but my phone chronicled their
seven epic days together with a string of increasingly bipolar
texts.

7 | Liz Lambdin –

Take a Chance on Me

It was getting to the point that I hated holidays. It was

driving me slowly mad.

At any given time I couldn't have told you if I was angry,

hurt, frustrated, or disappointed. There was an endless stream
of possibilities to explain the strange, restless insanity that
slowly filled me. I could feel it building, strengthening every
time the idiot mentioned some new failed attempt at romance.
It rose from my chest and tried to claw its way out of my throat,
but somehow I managed to smother it down over and over
again.

And then, finally, I just couldn't anymore. I couldn't stand

listening to him lament the eminent failure of his most recent
attempt at love. I couldn't stand listening to him complain how
there was no one out there who really understood him, desired
him, loved him.

I stared down at Evan, sprawled in full-out mope across his

couch. His dark hair was mussed from running his hands
through it in frustration, and I itched to reach out and smooth
the errant strands down, to take Evan's face in my hands and
kiss away the frown lines that rested between his green eyes.
Instead, I placed my hands on my hips to keep myself from
ripping my own blond hair out in chunks and tried to keep my
breath from rattling in my chest.

"Do I fucking have to sing some ABBA for you?" I was a little

surprised at the raw frustration in my voice.

"What?" Evan was clueless as ever. "What does ABBA have

to do with anything?"

I was filled with a terrible image of myself breaking into

song, like in some trite musical, leaping through the room as I
spelled out in lyrical detail what I was trying to get at. With
fucking jazz hands. I gritted my teeth instead.

"Figure it out. When you do, come see me and we'll talk." I

turned on my heel and walked out without a backward glance,
slamming the door behind me. It was childish, I know, but I
couldn't help it. I just couldn't stand one more minute.

I flipped my phone off so I could convince myself I wasn't

looking at the screen every five minutes waiting for a voice mail

8 | Liz Lambdin –

Take a Chance on Me

or text. When I got back to my apartment, I pretended that I
was checking my email because work might be trying to contact
me. At 8 o'clock on a Wednesday. Right.

I made it through most of the next day before I couldn't

hold out any longer, and I gave into the crushing weight of a
feeling too wild to be called curiosity. I admitted to myself that I
needed to know if Evan had tried to call. Or text. Or email. Or
Facebook post. Or something, anything.

There was nothing in any inbox. Alright. That was ok, then.

Perhaps Evan was trying to work through my outburst. Or, more
likely, he was busy planning some fantastically wild Valentine's
Day Extravaganza. Regardless of his less-than-stellar holiday
history, he always retained an immutable hope that THIS would
be the perfect holiday. He just couldn't give up the dream that
this would be the Christmas, Easter, Fourth of July, Valentine's
Day when all the elaborate fantasies he built in his head would
be made reality.

I would have given anything to be the guy to make that

happen, and he had no clue. It completely sucked being in love
with my best friend.

By Sunday, I began to quietly have what could only be an

extended heart attack. What else could feel so terrible, as
though I was suffocating and choking at once? Evan had not
attempted any sort of communication. We'd never gone this
long without talking to each other.

On Saturday, I had expected him to call and describe his

Friday night exploits. On Sunday I was positive he'd stop by to
give me way too many details about his Saturday night sex-
capades. All weekend I obsessively refreshed my email inbox,
waiting for his dreamy fantasies of what this Valentine's Day
might hold.

Minutes ticked into hours, and there was only silence.

Eventually, I realized that could only mean one of three things.

Option one: Evan was a dumbass and still hadn't figured

out what I had been talking about. It was a valid theory, but
somehow I thought even Evan wasn't quite that dense. I mean, I
felt like I was pretty explicit in my offer. Sure, ABBA might not

9 | Liz Lambdin –

Take a Chance on Me

be the band I'd have chosen to start a wild romance, but the
message was pretty clear.

Option two: Evan didn't care that I had yelled insanely at

him. This wasn't a good option. It indicated that Evan didn't care
as much about our friendship, or me in general, as I had
originally assumed. Even if we weren't meant to be lovers, we
were still best friends. We hadn't gone this long without talking
since our sophomore year of college.

Option three: Evan had figured out what I was offering, and

he wasn't interested. That particular option seemed to be the
most inevitable, and it broke my heart.

Ah. That was what that feeling was. Not a heart attack,

then, but a broken heart.

By Tuesday, I was more or less insane. I had been stupid. I

should have just quietly listened to Evan mope and patiently
picked up the pieces that were left after all his failed
relationships. At least then we would still be talking. As it was, I
couldn't even call the bastard because I'd left the ball in his
court.

After work, I walked to the corner liquor store, scowling at

the garish paper hearts that littered the window, and bought a
bottle of red wine. I had every intention of drinking the whole
thing in one go, and then possibly moving on to that bottle of
Jack I knew was tucked away in my liquor cabinet. I'd just call in
sick on Wednesday. I wondered if a broken heart was covered in
our company sick leave policy.

When I reached my apartment, though, I was surprised to

find Evan collapsed in my doorway. I almost dropped my bottle
in surprise, ignoring the magnificent leap my heart gave.

"What are you doing here?" I asked quietly, reaching for my

keys and unlocking my door. Evan scrambled to his feet and
followed me into the apartment. He moved unerringly to the
living room and fell in a heap across the couch.

"I've been thinking about what you said," Evan explained,

and I was suddenly sick. His expression didn't seem passion-
filled. It seemed exhausted and resigned.

10 | Liz Lambdin –

Take a Chance on Me

"I see," I murmured emotionlessly. I took the bottle of wine

from its paper bag and reached for the cork screw. "And what
do you have to say about it?" I was rather proud of the calm
tone of voice I was managing even as I grabbed a wine glass and
began pouring.

"That's just the thing," Evan almost yelled. "I don't have a

clue what you were saying. I've bought every ABBA album I
could find. I've listened to every track. Over and over and over
again. And all I know is that I really don't like ABBA." He almost
wailed that last part.

I stood staring at him, wine forgotten. "Wait. What? You

don't know what I was saying?"

"No! I've Googled lyrics. I've learned more about the band

than I ever wanted to. I spent all weekend wracking my brain,
locked up in my apartment. Maybe I'm stupid, but I don't
understand your riddle."

I was finding it hard to breathe, overcome with some new

sensation. It didn't suck like when I listened to Evan discuss his
latest interest ad nauseum.

"All weekend?" I asked tentatively. "Didn't you have a date

with Frank?"

Evan gave me an incredulous look. "Francis, you mean? I

canceled that. This was more important."

"But you were looking forward to that date," I reminded

him as I walked into living room. The strange sensation that was
building in my chest didn't feel like a heart attack or broken
heart. It was something new.

Evan sat up a little straighter. His green eyes were

reproachful and probably the most beautiful thing I had ever
seen. "I told you. This was more important. Can you at least give
me a hint? Which song, James? Which album? Anything!"

I dropped to the floor in front of the couch, my knees

incapable of holding me anymore. "Take a Chance On Me. It's
one of their more popular ones. I didn't think you'd have this
hard a time figuring it out." I realized my voice was faint, but I
couldn't seem to do anything about it.

11 | Liz Lambdin –

Take a Chance on Me

Evan's face scrunched in concentration. I watched,

bemused, as he mouthed the lyrics to himself. I could pinpoint
the exact moment when understanding hit. Evan's face
transformed, mouth forming a small O of wonder. He lowered
his eyes and focused on me.

My heart gave an odd little twitch, and it finally occurred to

me what this new feeling was. Hope. I watched silently as Evan
slid off the couch to sit beside me.

"I might be a dumbass, huh?" Evan asked, and I couldn't

figure out if the look of sheepishness was devastatingly
adorable or just really annoying.

"Maybe," I cautiously replied. I was filled with hope, but I

still wasn't positive of the outcome.

Evan's smile widened, and he leaned forward. "So I figured

it out. Sort of. Can we talk now? I've missed you."

I tried very hard not to stare at my best friend's lips,

focusing instead on Evan's eyes. I managed to nod faintly,
remembering that Evan had just asked me a question.

"I'm not really sure what you want to talk about, though,"

Evan murmured from less than an inch away. When had he
gotten so very close?

"You're not?" I managed to strangle out.
Evan slowly shook his head "Nope," he breathed, and I

could feel the hair brush across my lips. I shivered and closed
my eyes. "I'm not sure there's really anything to discuss. I think
I'll just accept your offer."

I felt my body tense and relax all in the same instant that

Evan's lips met mine. It was a shock that rattled through me and
loosened up all the tight places in my body that I had been
ignoring for the past week. I fell forward against Evan, fisting
one hand in his shirt and the other in his hair. I could feel Evan
laughing into our lips and pulled away a little.

"What's so funny?" I asked irritably.
Evan reached out and grabbed my face, preventing me from

moving any more. "Best. Valentine's. Day. Ever." He enunciated
the words carefully, and I could feel his lips brush against mine
with each syllable.

12 | Liz Lambdin –

Take a Chance on Me

I shivered and could think of nothing to say to that. It

quickly became obvious, though, that Evan wasn't particularly
interested in a reply. Mouths were apparently better engaged in
other pursuits.

And I couldn't really find it in me to argue.

Fin

About the Author

Liz Lambdin has three obsessions in her life: discovering new
music, writing new stories, and developing new spreadsheets.
At any given time she can be found doing at least one of these
things. Occasionally, she attempts all three at once. Prior to
moving to Denver, Colorado she taught high school Latin, and
she credits many of her story ideas to her Classical background.
Her recent career in accounting has resulted in recurring
dreams involving Excel and a need to explore her creative side
through writing. She has an unfortunate penchant for “your
mom” jokes and has never really liked kale.

You can find more of Liz’s writing at her

livejournal

.