Fuck, he was tempting, though.
I groaned, throwing my head into my hands with enough force to sting. My ass had been attached to the couch for well over ten minutes, and I knew I needed to get going.
“You look positively torn.” Willow sounded her entrance, flopping herself onto the couch beside me.
I peered up through my hands, a scowl firmly in place. “That’s ’cus I am.”
She hummed just before grabbing the paper from my hands. No need for privacy, apparently. She opened the letter like it belonged to her, taking a moment to read it. “STD screening? This for your boyfriend?”
“Not my boyfriend.”
“Oh, right, yes. Your inevitable, then?”
I glared at her shit-eating grin. “I told you that in confidence in a state of vulnerability. Don’t make fun.”
“All right, all right. So, is he where you’re running off to?”
The back of my neck slumped against the couch as I rolled myself into a metaphorical early grave. “Yes.”
Willow gasped, pointing to my side. “Oh my God, is that Pilly? Are you staying the night?” she all but squealed. “Holy shit! I’m so glad I told you to see him again.”
Her excitement was appreciated, though unnecessary. I cringed at the pitch of her voice. “All right, all right. Don’t get too hopeful. It’s… temporary.”
“What do you mean?”
“We have an agreement of sorts. We’re going to be fuck buddies—for lack of a better word—for a while. We’re just helping each other out, yanno?”
Willow blinked at me slowly. One, two, three… her perfectly shaped brows knitted together as she tilted her head. I’d known her long enough to see that she was confused and about to rain down on me with questions. “But he’s your catalyst.”
I gave her a warning glare, not afraid to throw down with my best friend.
“No, hold on.” Her knee pressed against my leg as she turned her body sideways to face me. “You told me he scared you. I’m not making fun, but you said he’s your inevitable. So why the fuck aren’t you going on a date? The way you talked about him, y’all shouldn’t be anything temporary.”
Was I man enough to tell her she was right? Of course not. The Bible Belt of the South may have failed in getting me to conform to the majority of their ways, but this one I was stuck with.
I settled with a mumbled “It’s complicated,” and silently hoped she’d take that as an answer.
She didn’t.
Willow rubbed a hand over her face, her exasperation showing through. “You like him.”
Not a question, a statement. “A little.” I shrugged.
“Not a little, Crew. You ain’t dumb, but you sure don’t act smart, do ya?”
“Jesus, Willow. That’s harsh.”
“Not harsh enough. I know I came off super strong, but I don’t mind the guy now that I have more information. Does Price not feel the same as you?”
“Dunno. He likes me enough to screw around.”
“Obviously. He’s sweet, though, isn’t he?”
I nodded, thinking back to our conversations. The way he made me feel safe, and each time I got all weird and emotional on him, he’d do whatever he could to make me feel better.
Willow stared in silence, her thinking face coming out to play. She had a faraway yet determined gleam in her eyes. “He definitely feels the same.”
“And how would you know that?”
