My cheeks ache from grinning so wide, and honestly? It feels damn good. I’ve smiled plenty since Keaton, but I can’t remember the last time it felt this true, like every part of me actually meant it.
This. This is exactly what she meant about basically being the other half of me.
I knock my shoulder into hers. "I love you, bitch. I don't know how the hell I put up with you and vice versa, but I wouldn't trade your ass for Snickers."
Amelia deliberately raises her eyebrows, cocks her head, and smiles that sassy ass smirk of hers. "Oh, sugar tits. I have a pretty fine ass, so it's definitely going to be worth more than a fucking Snickers bar, anyway. Twix, on the other hand...I'll let a motherfucker do some dirty shit to my ass for some of those delicious things."
My best friend, folks.
"I love you, too, by the way. Now, you're meeting Alek at his apartment, right?"
Oh, shit. She's got that damn calculating expression in her eyes again.
"Yeah," I reply slowly.
She straightens from her perch against the couch and rubs her hands together gleefully. "I think I know what will help you get out of your head enough to take what you want and not give a fuck about he who shall not be named." She grabs my hand in hers and pulls me along behind her. "Come on. Let's go see if I still have my black trench coat and red heels."
Despite my frantic, mortified protests—completely ignored, of course—I end up in nothing but my birthday suit, three-inch heels that threaten my life, and a trench coat cinched tight around my waist.
The closer she walks me to the door, the faster my heart races and the shorter my breath gets. "I can't do this. What if I get pulled over? What if I have an accident and have to be pried from the car, and all these people are watching as I just flash everyone my goods? What if—"
"Shut up." She grabs my face between both of her hands. "Who are you?"
"Charlie."
"Who are you?" she repeats.
"Charlie," I say again, my voice a little stronger as my panic subsides.
"Who. The. Fuck. Are. You?"
"Charlie fucking Henderson."
"That's right. And who is your best friend?"
"Amelia."
"That's right. And what do we not do anymore?"
I blow out a breath. "We don't give a fuck about anyone else. We do what we want and what makes us happy."
"That's right. So, stop playing what-ifs, drive your sexy ass on over to that dude's apartment, and get down with the get down.You're in the driver's seat, Charlie. You take this ride wherever you want it to go and however wild you want it to get. Go live a little more, babycakes. You deserve it."
"Thanks."
She lifts a shoulder. "It's what we do. Now, get the hell out of here. I've got somewhere I got to be myself."
Thankfully, the drive to Alek's apartment is uneventful. When I pull into a slot next to his car, I take a deep breath as I shut off the car and stare at the window that I know to be his. The blinds are lifted just a few inches, so I can see him moving around, even if I can't make out what he's doing.
I close my eyes, trying to take stock of the chaos inside me. Lust and excitement are fighting for first place, but lurking just out of sight are nerves and old wounds. I’m done feeding them. I’m exhausted from this endless battle, from letting Keaton haunt every moment with Alek, always worrying about his hurt feelings when he’s the one who broke us.
Tonight is about me. It's about me taking control of my life, my emotions, and my thoughts. Tonight is about me finally accepting that the relationship Keaton and I shared is dead. He killed it. Tonight is about me giving in to my baser instincts and finally succumbing to the heat that's been burning between me and Alek for the last five months.
Amelia was right about one thing. This time, I'm the one in the driver's seat, and I get to control this ride.
Climbing from the car, I make sure the belt is secure as I head toward Alek's apartment. My hips roll with each step I take, and I can already feel the desire pooling between my legs at the thought of what's about to go down.
My knock is firm and decisive, and when Alek opens the door wearing nothing but those motherfucking gray sweatpants, I waste no time in placing my palms against his chest and walking him back into his apartment, kicking the door shut behind me.
