They just refused to see it.
 
 And I? I had no problem warming my heart with cardio and the musky sheets of a man.
 
 In fact, I’d long suspected I had the exact opposite problem that Zach did. I craved the feel of another person’s skin on mine. Took my pleasure in hookups and didn’t look back.
 
 Relationships were high-stakes. Risky.
 
 Sex was simple. Instant gratification.
 
 And Zach was a god among men. I was at no risk of falling in love with the broody, patronizing billionaire sitting atop an ivory tower.
 
 I produced my phone from my duffel bag, skimming through my best friend’s texts.
 
 Ari:
 
 I can’t believe we won’t celebrate your birthday together.
 
 Farrow:
 
 Me, either.
 
 Farrow:
 
 You’re my favorite person in the whole world right now.
 
 Farrow:
 
 (Not to sound like a stage-five clinger or anything.)
 
 Ari:
 
 More than Keanu Reeves?
 
 Farrow:
 
 Yes.
 
 Ari:
 
 More than Taylor Swift?
 
 Farrow:
 
 Yes.
 
 Ari:
 
 More than Madonna?
 
 Farrow:
 
 Hey, don’t push it.
 
 She’s the queen of pop.
 
 Ari:
 
 Merp.