Page 99 of We Can't Be Friends

“Wasn’t me.”

“Yeah, sure.” I turn to leave.

“You can stay.”

“Stay?”

“Watch.” He shrugs. Brow low. Drags his bottom lip into his mouth.

“Watch?”

Instead of stepping toward the door, I move to the glass. Closer. His eyes widen as if he believes I’m taking him up on the offer.

With only the glass separating us, I tilt my head. “Would hate to ruin the fantasy, Pretty Boy.” I run a finger across the glass that separates me from his chest. “Or.” Tilting my head the other way, I pull a mischievous face. “Do you need a new one?”

“Chloe,” he whimpers as my other hand plays with the waistband of my sweatpants. “Please.”

I sniffle a dangerous laugh.

Continue for another second and he sighs, resting his forehead on the glass.

All I see is a green light telling me to go. But it quickly changes, my heart forcing a red light, forcing me to stop.

Wanting him will only end in heartache.

Me: when he leaves.

Cal: because of me.

It would be too easy to fall back into my pattern, back into this version of me I hate. The one that had me swearing off men—but you never swore off him, my brain ruthlessly reminds me.

Plus, he doesn’t deserve this. Giving into pleasure to feel something.

Withdrawing my hands, I turn on my heels and leave.

CALLUM

Her text said my boys.

My boys.

Two simple words had my head in a frenzy. Not that it wasn’t properly fucked already.

I haven’t stopped thinking about our kiss. For days, all of my focus reverted to the feel of her soft lips on mine, the way her mouth opened for more, and the sweetest sounds she released.

Letting nothing pass between us on the walk home. . .Idiot.I should have stopped her and kissed her again, I wanted to. Or when we got home.

I let her down. She didn’t say it but I just knew.

She clammed up at the same time I did. Both of us turned from each other in the hallway between our rooms.

I taped our photo strip on the fridge the following day, next to our weird lease-relationship agreement. A glaring reminder that this is fake and she’s my roommate—that little reminder is already ingrained in my mind from Chloe repeating it.

Roommates. If that’s her expectation for us then that’s all we will be, even if it’s starting to pain me only to be that. I won’t force her to change her mindset. I won’t fail at this.

But her text.

I was meeting with our Head of Finance and Audit Manager when she responded. I had to choke down my excitement of hearing from her for the first time in days.

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