"And you're apathetic?"
"Totally."
"Then why'd you ask?"
"Because…"
"You want to know why she left."
"How could anyone leave you?" My cheeks flush. "I don't mean…" Yes, I do. I don't understand how anyone could leave Ryan. But I can't admit that. "I… I saw you together. You were good to her."
"Her story's different."
"What? That's ridiculous."
"Parts of it."
"You want to talk about it?"
"Not with you drunk."
"I'm not drunk."
He motions to the half-empty bottle on the dresser.
"It wasn't a fresh bottle."
"How many shots have you had?"
"Not enough to be drunk."
"This is a sober conversation."
"Then just go."
"Fine." His shoulders tense. "You can sleep this off."
"With Dean?" I bite my tongue. I'm better than cheap shots to make him jealous. Even if his envy is thrilling—it means a part of him wants me.
His jaw cricks, but he shakes it off. "I have an exclusive on coming in this room."
"That's selfish."
His eyes light up as he chuckles. "Guess I should say, nobody can come in this room unless I'm here."
"You know you're daring me to masturbate in your bed."
He arches a brow would you.
"Dare me again. See what happens."
"Is it still masturbating if I'm here?"
Tug at this blanket. Untie my bikini. Demand I fuck myself for your viewing pleasure. Please. "It depends."
"On?"
"If it's giving you sexual gratification."
"You really think I could watch you come without—" He shakes his head. "You're insane."
Every part of me goes warm at once. "You don't mean…" I swallow hard. I can't stomach a no. Better not to ask. "Was that all she said?"
"You're drunk, Leigh."
"Not that drunk." Not drunk enough to forget how much I want him. How much that hurts.
"I didn't need her to tell me I'm bigger."
"Oh."
"Dean was right."
"That's a scary sentence."
He nods.
Oh.
It clicks. Dean was right about how massive cocks run in the family. He's… Uh…
Ahem. "How do you know about Dean's—"
"You haven't seen it?"
"No. Why would I?"
"He used to fuck chicks in the backyard all summer. I wish I'd never seen him."
"And he… he's seen you?"
"He walked in on me and Penny a few times."
"Oh." I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. The thought of Ryan naked sends heat to my fingers and toes. But the thought of him naked with her steals every ounce of my warmth. "Was that all she said?"
"He's not a better lay."
"Is that actually comforting?"
"No."
"What if he was a better lay?"
"I don't know."
"You should say hard to imagine. I'm just so good."
He laughs as he lies next to me. "I don't brag."
"You're right. Show don't tell. That's the first rule of a good story."
He looks at me like I'm crazy.
"Are you generous?"
"Stop it."
"What? Talking to my best friend?"
His hair falls in front of his eyes as he shakes his head.
"Ryan…" My fingers curl around his wrist. I'm not sure what I'm asking for, only that I want it.
His voice is soft. "You look miserable, Leigh."
"But hot?"
"You're wrapped in a blanket."
I unpeel the layers of cotton and polyester. Let the comforter fall at my sides.
His eyes glide over my body. Slowly. Like he's savoring every inch. He takes in my breasts, my stomach, my hips, my thighs, my calves, my painted red toenails.
Then he works his way back to my eyes. "I lost one relationship because I didn't understand what a woman wanted."
"Oh?"
"What do you want me to say to that?"
"Whatever you're thinking."
"You know you look good."
"But I don't know what you think."
"You're my best friend."
The four words are an explanation. You're my best friend. It wouldn't matter if you were the hottest woman in the world. I can't look at you that way.
I press on anyway. "But you want to fuck me?"
"You're drunk, Leigh."
"No. I'm not."
"Yeah. You are. And you're pissed at me and I don't have a fucking clue why."
I shake my head.
His eyes bore into mine. "She said I didn't talk to her."
"Did you?"
"I thought so…" His gaze goes to the string lights. "But maybe I didn't."
"Oh."
"You think I talk to you?"
"A little. But not really."
Understanding fills his eyes. "I listen?"
"Yeah. But I don't talk."
"You trust me?"
"Of course."
"But not about Mr. Powers."
"Ryan. God." I grab a pillow and hide behind it. "We were starting to get somewhere."
"We weren't."
"Maybe not." I hug the pillow to my chest. Look up at him. "I'll prove I'm not drunk." I bring my finger to my nose. Raise my right leg.
His fingers curl around my ankle as he pins my leg to the bed.
Fuck, this is so, so close to where we need to be.
Just slide these bottoms to my knees. Unzip those jeans. Forget about talking and show me what you're feeling.
"You want me to go?" he asks.
I shake my head.
"Then tell me why you're crying in my room."
"I can't stop picturing you together."
"Leigh—"
"Not like that." Okay, not just that. "You're still in love with her. And I hate it. I hate that she gets any of your heart. I hate that you're giving her the chance to hurt you again."
"This was your idea."
"Maybe it was a bad one."
"You want to call it off?"
"No. Do you?"
"No." He lies next to me. Looks up at the stucco ceiling. "I'm not in love with her."
"At all?"
"There's a Penny shaped hole in my gut, yeah. But I don't want to fill it with her."
"But…" I swallow hard. "The way you looked at her. You… Are you sure?"
"No."
"Oh."
"I don't have a fucking clue what it's supposed to feel like, loving someone. Not anymore. Not after that."
"After what?"
"The look in her eyes when I caught her."
"Guilt?"
"No." He lets out a heavy sigh. "Relief."