“I don’t care about them.” I immediately feel the urge to dismiss any doubt she has about me.
 
 “But you care about me.”
 
 “Because I’m your friend…”
 
 She doesn’t have many friends. Even the ones who pretend to be her friends treat her like she’s a spoiled rich girl who has nothing to bring to the table, which is far from the truth. She’s not spoiled and definitely doesn’t care about her grandmother’s wealth. She’s smart and annoyingly witty. She believes in ghosts and takes comfort in urban tales and dark romances. She’s already planning to get her next tattoo, even though she recently had one. She wants a dog. She runs 10k every day. She has a part-time job that she’s very proud of. She takes self-defense classes that she pays for, and she hates being shadowed by me. She’s just like any other girl living her life, but unfortunately, she has a family whose occupation might harm her in ways her “friends” would never understand.
 
 “Yeah, after all this time, you must be. You’re the closest thing I have to a best friend, even when you love riling me up and saying things just to get under my skin. I guess that’s why you make the perfect candidate. I already know your unfiltered side, and I accept it. I even grew to like you a little.” She says it so casually, but my heart squeezes tightly because it means more to me than she realizes.
 
 She just gave me a compliment and a promotion.
 
 Propping my forearms against the table, I lean on them, bringing myself closer to her, embracing our friendship. “Alright, friend. Take another shot.” I wiggle my brows as she lifts the shot in the air and smiles at me before it disappears down her bobbing throat.
 
 “I bet you’d be thrilled when this is over, and you will have an excuse to carry me around.” She slams the glass onto the scuffed-up surface of the table, grimacing again as the taste fizzes on her tongue.
 
 “I got you.” Always have. Always will.
 
 “Oh, I know.” She blurts as a realization strikes her. “You take it out on the guys who hit on me. If you can’t have sex, they can’t have it either.”
 
 I shoot her an upside-down grin, liking that answer. I never thought about it that way.
 
 “Why not?” I shrug, taking a swig from the beer.
 
 “So, we should have sex.”
 
 Choking on the beer, I cough. “What?”
 
 “If I can’t have sex with others and you can’t have sex because of your job, we can make a deal.” Her almond-shaped eyes shimmer with reverence, her features glowing with warmth. She’s thrilled and proud of her little idea.
 
 “Have you lost your mind?” My voice is deep, shattering the silence before it as my heart hammers against my ribcage. I clear my throat and lean back to calm myself down.
 
 “It’s a perfect idea and solves all our problems.”
 
 “Nooo, it makes everything ten times more complicated.” I vocalize my determined disapproval because if there’s one thing I can’t have, it’s Winona Bishop. No matter how much I want her, she means too much for me to accept something meaningless when I want her for real. I want her for all the beautiful things she is. For three years, I have fought with myself over the promise I made.
 
 If I can’t have her, no one will. And I know how selfish that sounds.
 
 Studying me, she crosses her hands over her half-flashed breasts, squeezing them tightly. The thin top she wears under her jacket hugs her curves perfectly. I shift uncomfortably inmy seat, adjusting while still keeping track of her movements. Her tongue comes out to swipe her bottom lip.
 
 “What are you afraid of?” She asks.
 
 Is she as invested as I am? Does she crave me like I crave her? Does she ache for my touch as I ache for hers?
 
 I don’t want her to fuck me and forget about me.
 
 I don’t want her to let me go and regret me after she finds someone better who can give her the life she deserves. But no one is better. They will never protect her like I have.
 
 Like I always will.
 
 “Your grandma, for starters.” Entranced, I respond calmly.
 
 “She doesn’t need to know.”
 
 “There’s the security team.”
 
 “We’ll sneak out and keep things casual.” She truly has an answer for everything.
 
 “What are you smiling about?” I question, narrowing my eyes further at the wicked smile tugging at her lips.