Her cheeks are flushed, and she breathes out, “I’ll call Autumn to pick me up.”
“Just stay,” I say. “I don’t bite.”
She narrows her eyes. “Yes, you do.”
“No way I’m letting anything happen to you.”
Her face softens, and she chews on the inside of her cheek. “You’re a bad influence.”
“Undeniably,” I say with a smirk. “But bad influences have the most fun and make the best of friends.”
She playfully rolls her eyes but finally sets her keys down. “Promise to be a gentleman?”
“I always am.” My voice is casual, even as my pulse speeds up. “Honestly, this house is huge. Any bed is yours. What’s the worst that could happen?”
Her eyes swirl with amusement and skepticism. “That sounds like someone’s famous last words.”
4
JULIE
Comfortable warmth is the first thing I notice when I wake up. It’s not the kind that comes from the fireplace in my condo. It holds me tight. I drift in that hazy space between sleep and reality, feeling safer than I have in months, maybe years. Everything smells like expensive cologne mixed with clean cotton.
My eyes jolt open, and I see the gray shirt and feel solid muscles.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I’m on Nick’s couch, but more specifically, I’m lying on top of him, holding him like he belongs to me.
My head rests on his chest, his strong arm wraps heavy around my waist, and our legs are tangled in a way that suggests we’ve been like this for hours. Because we have.
Memories from last night rush back, and when I try to lift my head, it pounds. We shared pizza and wine, then talked until our voices became rough. We shared a lot. At one point, I laughed so hard that I nearly cried.
We eventually started streamingWhen Harry Met Sallybecause neither of us had ever seen it to the end. We spent half the movie arguing about whether men and women could have sex and be just friends while Billy Crystal proved it was impossible.
Truthfully, I dislike that movie. I know it’s a romantic comedy classic, but there’s something about it I can’t stand. Every year, I try to watch it all the way through, but I always give up. Nick thought we’d be able to pull it off. We didn’t.
I fell asleep somewhere around one of Harry’s speeches. Total snoozefest.
Nick shifts, his arm tightening around me. I freeze, unsure of what to do.
Friends don’t wake up wrapped around each other like lovers. My heart shouldn’t flutter when we shift closer, and we absolutely shouldn’t fit together so effortlessly that when one of us pulls away, it feels wrong. But here we are.
We’re just friends because anything else leads to complications that neither of us needs or can deal with at this point in our lives.
I need to leave before he wakes up because I don’t want any awkwardness.
I stay perfectly still as I calculate my next move. His arms are my biggest hurdle because they’re heavy and warm and make me want to stay instead of pulling away. By some miracle, I slide out from under them, holding my breath when he stirs.
“Mmm,” he mumbles, still asleep. Reaching for the space where I was before, he turns onto his side.
My traitorous heart flutters again.
I quickly find my shoes. One is hidden under the couch; the other is by the leather chair, large enough to fit two people. I slip them on, trying not to make a sound.
Before I go, I take one last glance at him with his messy, dark hair and his face relaxed. Somehow, he looks unfairly gorgeous without even trying.
I grab the receipt from last night’s pizza and write a note on the back.
