Page 59 of Don't Fall

Her hands fly to her waist, forming fists as they land there. “I am not knocking! It goes against our open-door policy and requires waiting for an invitation, which let’s be real, some days, I won’t get!”

“Or,” I calmly intervene, “maybe you could just announce yourself before you come in.”

“And maybe count to ten after you do,” Lane adds, joining us in the living room, this time wearing some pants.

“Like, out loud?” Drea’s not following.

“He’s saying we may require a buffer once we know you’re coming,” I explain.

“Oh, God. Is this really happening all the time now?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t remember ever inquiring about the frequency of your sex life,” I point out, in lieu of being able to tell Drea she’s being ridiculous. And she’s stone cold sober today.

“That’s different,” she huffs.

I move in to meet her in the middle of the room, leaving both guys out of our circle completely. “Why?”

“Because you like Scott.”

“Not enough to want to see his naked ass!” I counter.

“That was one time!” she screeches.

“One too many!” I holler back. It’s surreal really. This whole argument. The screaming. Are we really fighting over who’s more entitled to have uninterrupted sex in their own apartment?

“Can I just say, that it’s hurting my feelings you find my ass so offensive,” Scott chimes in, mocking us both.

“Yeah, I’m a little insulted myself. I’ve made you breakfast. Crunchy bagel and all. How do you not like me?” Lane adds, crossing his arms over his spectacular chest, momentarily causing me to forget what we’re all doing here.

“I don’t like that you made Tessa cry. That trumps a damn bagel every day of the week. Crunchy or not,” she huffs.

Meanwhile, Lane’s amused expression falters and he looks genuinely concerned. “When did I make her cry?” He turns toward me. “When did I make you cry?”

I could punch her for this. “You didn’t. I made myself cry. It was after the whole Jules mess, before I knew what really happened.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Drea insists. “Tears are tears and there were a crapload. I had to give a pep speech and everything. Do you know how bad I am at those?!”

“I’m getting a pretty good idea,” he says, brow furrowed, torn between engaging with her and addressing the issue between us, which was no issue at all until Drea made it one.

“Oh, my God, Drea! Stop. I was coming off of several shit days, I thought I’d slept with a guy who had slept with my friend and was dreading the shitstorm that was bound to follow. You can’t pin my meltdown on Lane. It had nothing to do with him.”

But Drea isn’t interested in reason, she never is. “Swear,” she demands, stepping between us with all the ferociousness of a proper mama bear and facing Lane full on. “Swear that you’ll never make her cry like that again. That you’re not playing any games here. Swear that your intentions are good. That my Tessa is safe with you.”

“Babe, they’ve been dating for like two seconds,” Scott intervenes quietly, “you don’t think this is getting kinda heavy for a two second relationship?”

She barely even acknowledges him. Just stares straight ahead at Lane, who remains silent because there’s nothing he can say to her that will satisfy her without lying.

“We’re not dating.”

Drea spins back around to look at me. “What?”

“I said, we’re not dating. There are no games being played. No intentions to do anything but what we’re doing. No expectations. No need to worry about anyone getting hurt,” I finish slowly. “Got it?”

“You’re just...screwing?” she asks, still struggling to grasp the concept.

“Yep.”

She turns toward Lane again, almost as though she’s hoping he’ll contradict what I’ve just said. When he doesn’t, she shakes her head. “This is all wrong.”

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