Page 64 of The Friend Situation

“Am I not your type?” I ask.

“Once again.” He points down to himself. I can almost see the veins through the slinky fabric of his pants. “We’re just friends, Carlee.”

“Friends who like to make out,” I add.

“I didn’t say Ilikedit,” he tells me.

I take the opportunity to point toward his crotch. “You didn’t have to.”

“Look, you know you’re gorgeous. Any man who has the opportunity to fuck your brains out is lucky. But it would complicate things between us, and I won’t use you. I respect you too much,” he says.

“Sometimes, Iwantto be used. Sometimes, I want to just be …” I don’t finish my sentence, knowing it’s full of emotions I’m not ready to face yet.

The silent conversation is so loud—or maybe it’s my racing heart echoing in my head. We must break out of this trance before confessing more things that can’t be unsaid. My shields have fallen, and I’m too vulnerable right now.

“I guess this is my payback?” I ask, standing and readjusting my clothes. I try to find calm in the chaos surrounding us.

“For what?” he asks.

“For replacingyouas my free pass,” I say with a laugh.

“Oh, right,” he whispers, sucking in a ragged breath as if he was forced to come to his senses. “Just to be clear, you would’ve let me fuck you just now, right?”

His question dances in the air as I cross my arms over my chest.

“I guess we’ll never know,” I say, lifting my brow. My hard nipples and drenched panties say otherwise. “Was just testing you.”

“Oh, okay.”

He narrows his eyes, smirking, knowing I would’ve taken every inch of him. I’d have let him ruin me. Our lips are swollen, and our hair is a mess. While I can’t speak for him, my ego is both shattered and shimmering.

Tonight, we’ve indulged in each other more than we should have and done things we can never undo. My skin buzzes where he touched—a reminder that we scaled the wall of our boundaries together. I search for my words or even a joke, hoping to break this charged silence, but all I can muster is a guilty smile.

“Did you feel anything when you kissed me?” I ask, not sure what his answer was because he avoided it by kissing me again.

“No, of course not,” he says, lifting his brow and giving me the same energy I delivered to him seconds earlier. “Was just testing you.”

“Please, Weston. Just this one time, pretty please give me the truth. There isn’t a right or wrong answer. I’ll accept whatever you say, and I won’t mention it again.”

He stares at me for a long while.

“Yes,” he whispers. “Which is why we can’t do that again. It’s too dangerous.”

Our gazes lock together, like the moon and the earth, and his eyes fill with unconfessed monologues. I know there are a million things he wants to say. But tonight, I’ll fall asleep, knowing he felt something too, and that I wasn’t imagining things.

“Okay. But I won’t apologize for what happened,” I add.

“I don’t have any regrets,” he offers.

As I move past him, he catches my wrist, pulling me back. I rest my hands on his chest and smile up at him.

“It’s not because I don’t want you,” he confesses, like a whispered prayer.

“One of us has to be logical. I’m really glad it’salwaysyou.” I pat him, moving away from him before I do something I shouldn’t. I see a real glimpse of him, the part I relate with him the most.

I descend the stairs, gripping the railing as the bourbon warms my veins—or maybe it was the taste of Weston I had.

“Can you separate the two?” I ask over my shoulder.

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