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A chime on his phone alerts him that his driver is there, and he gives me one last apologetic glance before he jogs out the door.

Cadence is sitting on the couch watching TV when I run through the house. She turns to see me scampering up the stairs, and I’m not even on my bed before she’s following me and closing the door behind her.

“What’s going on?” she asks in a demanding tone.

“I’m fine,” I lie, dropping my bag on the bed and grabbing my pajamas. I try to escape her attention by rushing to my en suite bathroom, but she blocks the way.

“Did he do something to you?”

I laugh, a high-pitched cackle.

“Sunny…”

“He didn’t do anything to me.”

She lets me pass as I walk around her to the bathroom where I start the shower. Even when I untie my top, it doesn’t stop her from standing there waiting for an explanation.

“Do you want him to?” she asks.

My laugh doesn’t come out as sincere this time. Shedding my bottoms, I climb into the shower, but it hasn’t heated up yet, leaving me standing in frigid water, shivering and thinking about his hard body pressed against me.

Cadence sits on the toilet. “Sunny, Alexander is…”

“I know,” I blurt out against the water spray.

“I won’t say he’s too old for you because I do believe age is just a number, but Alexander comes with about forty years of fucked-up baggage and bad behavior. I know girls who have been with him. One girl told me about how they fucked in a bathroom after they spoke two words to each other. He didn’t even know her name.”

My eyes squeeze shut, blocking out the pain. He is out doing that right now, isn’t he? How many girls will he be with tonight alone?

Will he look at them like he looks at me?

“Alexander doesn’t do relationships, Sunny. If you lose your virginity to him…”

“Cadence!” I shout from the shower.

“I’m being serious. I just want you to be careful.”

“Everyone treats me like a child.”

“I’m sorry, Sunny, but I’ve been worried about you over there. I mean, on the bright side, if he hasn’t tried to sleep with you yet, you must be special to him.”

I want to ask if he’s tried to sleep with her yet, but I can’t bring myself to do it. The answer terrifies me.

I can’t sleep that night. I keep my eyes on his house, knowing he is out there somewhere fucking someone else. Someone older than me, prettier than me, sexier than me—but no one who wants him as much as I do.

Because I do. Somewhere in all the back and forth today, I realized that I want him. I want to stay friends with him while also knowing the touch of his hands and the muscles of his body. I want to be the most special person to him, and that makes me feel like a fool.

He’s gone for hours before I see the lights turn on in his house. After climbing out of bed, I watch him stumble through the house at four a.m. The bars closed two hours ago. My brows are pinched together so tightly it hurts as I wait to see if anyone else follows him inside.

To my relief, he appears to be alone.

Go to bed, Alexander, I think to myself.

But he doesn’t. Just through the window to the kitchen, I can make out his movements. He stumbles through the space, knocking something onto the floor. He stops, and instead of picking it up, he presses his head against the cool stone countertop. I watch him from my bed.

Go to bed, Alexander.

He stands and walks toward the door.