“I’m not pushing, only…” I struggled for a reason. “because I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret later.” I placed my hand on top of hers and smiled what I hoped was a natural smile. It felt like a betrayal: just that small gesture seemed like I had cut out her heart.
I should have told her right then, but something was holding me back. Probably those words. I. Love. You. God damn it, why did I have to reciprocate those feelings?

“Ah, you’re such a sweet friend,” she cooed, putting her other hand on top of mine. All I wanted to do was slide my hand back across the table. Every second touching her seemed like another stab. But I stayed put.
I must have let some part of my face slip because she instantly looked worried. “Hey,” she grabbed my wrist. “Don’t you worry chicka. I know what I’m doing – well, not technically.” She paused, before giving me a sly grin. “You could-”

“Hell, no!” I recoiled. Funny how I’d only loved him four minutes and I was already treating Heather like the ‘other woman’.