Page 31 of Twisted Needs

“…semester going alright?”

“The semester started like three weeks ago,” Anders says. “I haven’t done anything yet.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“I’m a poly-sci major. My entire academic career is waiting until the last minute.”

“I’m starting to think you’re majoring in unemployment.”

Anders just waves him off. “I’ll just marry rich then.”

Luca points at him accusingly. “No. Absolutely not. You are not freeloading off some poor bastard.”

“Why not? I’m already freeloading off of Parker.”

Both of them look at me. I feel something chilling crawl down my spine.

“You’ll provide for me until I find a rich husband, right?” Anders asks sweetly, but his eyes linger on mine for half a second too long.

There it is again. That pull. That awful, addictive thing that keeps happening between us lately where every joke has a double meaning and every glance feels like a hand wrapped forcefully around my throat.

“Don’t drag me into this,” I chuckle, trying to keep my voice even.

Anders just smirks into his beer.

The conversation carries on, but I can still feel Anders beside me in such a visceral way that my body picks up on every slight movement, impossibly hyperaware. I’m way beyond saving at this point.

When Luca gets up to use the bathroom, the air changes instantly. It’s subtle at first, but then I lock eyes with Anders, who bites back a smirk.

“Thought you would be busy tonight,” I tell him quietly. “You didn’t come to my game.”

He turns toward me slowly. “I had plans.”

“Hmm.” I swirl the scotch around my glass. “You always say you have plans, but then you refuse to tell me what they are.”

Anders narrows his eyes, already smiling. “Because that’s none of your business.”

“Anything that concerns you is my business.” The words slip out before I realize, but I think I’m at the point in the night where I probably would’ve said them anyway. That’s why this little game we’re playing is dangerous. Just being near him feels like my entire body is rewired with my cock resting where my brain should be.

His expression flickers. “You sound possessive, you know,” he says softly. “Friends aren’t supposed to be possessive over each other.”

I reach out and swipe my thumb across his chin anyway. “Is that it?”

When I lean in, I pick up on the way his composure drops ever so slightly. The beer bottle in his hand hits the bar a little too hard, nearly toppling over.

“I don’t know,” he replies. His hand closes around my wrist, pulling it away in an attempt to get better control of himself.

Touching him is the easiest way to shake him. Anytime my hand drifts through the hair on the nape of his neck, he lets out this tiny breath that makes something primal surface inside me.

Lowering his voice, Anders leans forward a little more and puts his hand on my thigh. “The word friends just keeps losing its meaning these days.”

My jaw ticks, and I hate that I’m even giving him the satisfaction of a reaction like this. But we’ve both gotten so good at this game that it’s inevitable.

I exhale quietly. “It’s a gray area.”

His knee presses against mine more deliberately this time. Heat shoots straight through my stomach. “Maybe we should’ve been more specific, then.”

Friends is all we can be, because anything more would ruin everything. I don’t have any trouble with keeping things casual. But I know Anders. He doesn’t do casual the way I do. He’s unapologetic, but sensitive, and sometimes those two traits work against each other. And yet…I keep finding myself in situations like these where lines get blurred and desire outweighs principle.