Page 44 of Doctor Hot Mess

And yet, here I am, replaying it in my head like a broken record, playing the what-if game in my mind.

Like, what the fuck is my problem? Why are we here again? No. No. No.

I must be sending him the wrong message for him to keep going there with me.

I take a sip of my iced tea. The glass sweats in my hand as I try to focus on the clear blue water instead of the memory of Jonah’s mouth on mine.

I liked it—more than I should have. But that’s the problem. Liking it means wanting more, and wanting more from Jonah is a recipe for heartbreak. It was the same two years ago, and nothing about him has changed.

Has it?

A sudden, familiar voice jolts me from my thoughts. “I knew I’d find you out here, looking all pensive and tragic. What are you reading, Missy?”

I glance up to see Mason strolling through the gate, a shopping bag dangling from one hand and a pair of oversized sunglasses perched on his nose. “You didn’t text,” I say, though I’m not surprised. Mason has a way of showing up unannounced, like a fabulous hurricane of unsolicited advice.

“You’ll forgive me,” he says breezily, dropping onto the lounge chair next to mine. “Besides, I come bearing gifts.” He pulls a small bottle of rosé from the bag and waves it like a peace offering.

I can’t help but laugh. “Fine. You’re forgiven.”

He kicks off his shoes and stretches out, his movements as fluid and dramatic as always. “Now, start talking, sister. Your aura is all ‘woman in turmoil and I demand answers.”

I roll my eyes but set my glass down. “It’s nothing. I'm just a fucking train wreck in this city. I never should have taken this assignment.”

Mason raises an eyebrow, lowering his sunglasses for dramatic effect. “Jonah? Is that what we are talking about here? Because I know the other perk that comes with being here is my unannounced drop-ins.”

I hesitate, but Mason has been my sounding board for years. If anyone can help me make sense of this mess, it’s him. “He kissed me.”

The words hang in the air, and Mason’s eyes widen. “Stop it right now. When? Where? How much tongue? And did he stop at the lips on that pretty face, or are we talking kisses everywhere…?”

“Mason!” I shake my head, but a reluctant smile tugs at me. “Jesus! You're more of a pig than Jonah!"

"Go on."

"Last night. On his balcony. And it stopped there. I stopped it. He is my friend, and that is where it ends. No blurred lines. No 'friends with benefits'”.

“Oh, honey,” Mason says, leaning closer. “If you’re smiling about it like that when you think about it, it is absolutely not where it ends. Now, give me more details. Why are you so stingy?”

I sigh, leaning back in my chair. “It was just—ugh. I don’t even know. He kissed me, and for a second, it felt like everything. But then I remembered who he is, and I couldn’t do it. But, God, did I want to. Mason! What is wrong with me?!”

Mason tilts his head, studying me. “Nothing is wrong with you, honey. You know unattached sex isn't a sin, right?”

"Stop it. That isn't what this is about. I'm not interested in just having sex. It's so much more complicated than that."

"I can see that."

“I don't know what my problem is,” I exclaim, throwing my hands up. “He’s Jonah. The guy who’s sworn off commitment, who treats relationships like hobbies. And I’m leaving Birmingham in two months. It’s not like this could go anywhere, anyway. But I don't want that, and neither does he, so that's a moot point. Just saying.”

“True,” Mason says, his tone softer now. “But there is a reason why you're going through all of this turmoil about it. Harper, when are you going to realize youdohave feelings for him? Why do you push it away so much?”

I frown, his words hitting closer to home than I’d like. “It’s not that simple. I don’t want to ruin our friendship. We just started fixing things, and a casual fuck could blow it all up.”

Mason taps a finger against his chin. “Or it could be the best thing that’s ever happened to you. What’s scarier, Harper? Ruining the friendship, or realizing you might actually want more?”

I don’t have an answer for that. Instead, I stare at the ripples in the pool, the sunlight glinting off the water like tiny shards of glass. “He’s not that guy, Mason.”

Mason shrugs, swirling the last bit of his drink. “Okay, so maybe you’re overthinking this. What else is new?”

I roll my eyes, but he’s undeterred.

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