Page 21 of First Comes Forever

“No,” I answer simply.

She cocks her head to the side, clearly unconvinced. “Then why?”

“You’re asking me why I’m being nice to you? Outside of the fact that our friends are dating?” I shrug. “I’m nice to everyone, Amani.”

“They’re fake dating. And that’s total crap. I’ve seen you around Cici.”

Ah, Cici. Chase’s publicist and the woman I live to give shit to, but only because she lives to give it right back. We may slew playful insults at each other daily, but Cici is probably the only woman on this planet that I trust. “That’s more of a sibling rivalry than anything.”

Amani pinches one eye shut. “You guys aren’t siblings.”

“True, but what I’m saying is…”Hell, what am I saying?“Look, I realize you don’t want me to draw attention to it, but you seemed really upset in your car earlier. Is it a crime for me to be worried?”

“You’ve never screamed in your car after a crappy day, or punched a wall, or thrown a shoe after bad news?” Amani asks, rolling her wrist in a fashion that says etcetera, etcetera. “It’s just not a big deal. You’re making a mountain out of a molehill.”

“Chase used to say that to me,” I say, locking my eyes on hers. “I caught him having similar meltdowns right before he started drinking like a fish or buying enough cocaine to frost a Christmas tree. Every time, he fed me the same lines.”

She holds my gaze. “What lines?”

Somehow, naturally, my hand gravitates to her knee. She doesn’t flinch or blush. Instead, she places her hand over mine as she patiently waits for me to elaborate.

“Everything is fine. You’re overreacting. I can handle it.That’s exactly what he’d say when I knew he was about to give up on everything and just float away with drugs, alcohol, women, or whatever else could numb the pain quickest. It’s been almost a decade of watching my friend basically tortured in this industry, so pardon me if I’ve learned to call bullshit.”

“Well, I’m not in Chase’s industry,” she mutters. “I’m not an actress.”

“Sure you are,” I reply. “Don’t you get on camera every day, hoping your posts perform? I’m not questioning your authenticity, but aren’t you on social media as a means to an end? Or do you really have millions of friends you like to keep up with?”

She studies my eyes, seeming like she’s debating something. It’s an uncomfortable amount of time before she answers.

“Fine. You’re right. It’s a little more serious than a bad day.” She takes her hand back and mindlessly picks up a fork from the table, just to have something to do. “I don’t want to talk about it. Don’t push, okay?”

“Okay,” I say. She smiles at me, relieved, but I’m not done. “But next time I catch you screaming in your car like that…I’m going to push. Deal?”

She nods and exhales with a little chuckle. “Deal. Dammit, Adam Montgomery, you really are a good guy, huh?”

I tap my nose twice before looking around for our waitress. “She never brought the dessert menu,” I mutter under my breath before turning back to Amani. “Maybe we don’t need it, though you have to try the homemade tres leches cake. It’s a religious experience.”

She waits for me to stop scouring the restaurant and for my eyes to lock on hers.

“What?” I ask.

“Let’s skip dessert. Do you want to have sex?”

This is why life needs a rewind button. I need to pause, rewind, and play that back in slow motion to really register if Amani Rhodes just propositioned me. “Really? Coming from Miss ‘It’s Never Going to Happen?’”

“Okay, I realize that was forward. But hear me out,” she says as she trills her finger against the table. “For the past eight months, I haven’t really been drinking. I’m on a strict vitamin regiment. I track my macros and my sleep. I don’t eat anything with carcinogens, toxins, or Red Dye 40. And, so as not to risk an STD, I haven’t been hooking up or dating at all. I have been the picture-perfect candidate for conception, and it still didn’t work. So right now I just want to eat junk food, get tipsy, stay up past midnight, and have sex.” She shrugs. “Are you free tonight?”

Goddamn, do I want to see her naked,badly. And as hot as she is, it’s all the playful banter that gives me those stupid flips in my stomach. We’d be great together. Sex would be fun, and the conversation afterward probably just as entertaining. But the problem is the way she’s looking at me right now. Even when Amani’s smiling, she still looks sad.

Fuck, I’m about to blow this.

“Friends,” I exhale out.

She looks a little startled. “What?”

“I told you earlier. It’s kind of one or the other with me. And since I’m letting you use my condo, and our friends are involved and all…I, um, I think it’s better we just stay friends.”

Her eyes narrow as her lips purse.

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