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“Partook in the activity?” She leaned into me and giggled as we walked. “Excuse you, William Shakespeare. Have you been reading?”
“Only the sports news.” I directed around a group of teens who weren’t paying attention to their surroundings. “I was trying to be dignified.”
“Picking up socks is dignified.”
“I picked up the fucking socks!”
Shelby laughed, wrapping both arms around my waist and stopping us dead in the middle of the pier. She beamed up at me, her hair in loose waves, her brown eyes stripped back to show how much she loved this.
“I know.” Her smile only widened as she tightened her grip on me. “You know, I don’t care.”
“About what?”
“About anything,” she replied. “About the bets our family apparently set.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “They threw me for a minute, but I really don’t care, not when I think about it. We had the best date ever.”
“You did wear heels for me.”
She extracted herself from my arms for a second to mock-curtsey. “And you appreciate what I did. That’s teamwork, you know?”
I pulled her back to me and kissed her forehead. “Is it teamwork if you wash my shorts from now on?”
“Is it a communal laundry basket? That’s a real issue.”
“Does it need to be?”
“If you think I’m doing yours and mine…”
“No!” I laughed, holding her tighter when she tried to level me with a dark look. “One wash a week. Each. Is that fair?”
She leaned back just enough to eye me. “We need a new chore chart. And a new meal plan. And—”
“Shut up.”
I kissed her. She squealed, but I didn’t care. She had an awful lot of time to talk about her to-do lists and her chore plans and her meal plans and whatever else she needed to make her life be organized. I laughed because she was such a flighty person with her imagination, yet she needed control over every other aspect.
That could be figured out.
Today.
Tomorrow.
Next week.
It would be done.
For now, we could abide by the rules we had. That no pants were the best pants. That Oreos had to be labeled. That bathroom doors had to be locked. That the feather duster was my friend. That we both had to clean our hair out of various sinks and drains.
I’d figure out the vacuum tomorrow.
I’d put a pen next to the notebook on the windowsill in the bathroom.
I’d work out how exactly to load the dishwasher next week.
I’d replace the candle she liked to burn while she wrote next month.
I didn’t care. I didn’t care about chores or routines or rules as long as she believed in us, and by the way she kissed me back, she did.
She kissed me hard, in the middle of the pier, surrounded by a bunch of people.
It wouldn’t be easy. It’d be hard, in fact. So hard. But she was the one who wrote romance. If anything, she was more prepared for this than I was.
All I knew was that I was standing here with my arms around my best friend as she kissed me back. As she sent fire through my veins and desire straight to my cock.
As she brought her body so hard against mine through tiny giggles that I knew that, somehow, somewhere, at some point, we’d be totally fucking okay.
She wrapped her arms around my neck.
I gripped her ass.
And I smiled against her lips as she did the same.
Yeah.
We were gonna be just fine.
EPILOGUE – SHELBY
The Future Includes A Hot Tub
Three Years Later
The door to the apartment swung open.
Jay appeared in all his glory. His hair hadn’t changed, and he wore the uniform of a white tank top that showed off his tanned biceps and a pair of gray sweat shorts that did things to a girl’s clitoris.
“Jay!” I squealed, making a run for him.
His green eyes widened. He was only just ready as I launched myself at him and clamped onto him like a shellfish. My legs went around his waist as my arms circled his neck. Together, we staggered back into the hallway as he cupped my ass to hold me in place.
“That’s what I call a welcome home.” He laughed, steadying us both. “Hi to you, too.”
“I have the best news!” I bounced as he carried me back into the apartment.
“So will my cock if you don’t get on with it.”
I blushed and jumped down. “The publisher bought my book!”
His eyebrows shot up. “No way! They finally agreed?”
“Yes!” I threw myself at him again, and this time he was ready for me.
He spun me around. My legs flew through the air as his arms clamped tight around my waist, holding me flush against him.
“Why didn’t you call me?” he demanded, setting me down.
“I got the final email like twenty minutes ago!” I bounced on the balls of my feet. I was a ball of nervous and excited energy. This was a dream I didn’t know I had, but the publisher had agreed to put my books on shelves, and while I knew this wasn’t a guarantee, it was a nice thought.
