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Emotion clogs my throat. Shit, I said the wrong thing. “No?” I scramble trying to think of something else I can say to⁠—

“No. We can be friends with benefits.”

Okay. I don’t like that either. Friends with benefits? I almost snarl at the idea. Fuck, what is wrong with me? An hour ago, I was the guy who didn’t date. Now he’s offering me the exact arrangement I used to want and it feels like he’s rejecting me.

“That’s not—” I drag a hand through my hair. “Quinn. I just said I want to try.”

“You also said maybe and that you’re not a commitment type. I heard both.” He tugs his jeans shut and buttons and zips them up. “Friends with benefits has rules that I can understand.” He won’t look at me while he says it. “Dating is the thing you already told me, multiple times, that you can’t do. I’m not going to be an experiment for you where you find out that you were right.”

“You’re not an experiment.”

“Everything’s an experiment if you change one variable at a time.” His voice stays even. And my heart sinks. “Chemistry is a variable we already tested, and we have it or I wouldn’t have came with you twice. Friendship worked, too, until we pushed things too far without clear rules.”

“Quinn—” He steps around me, putting space between us.

“That’s the offer, Daniel.”

I swear and shake my head, tugging at the longer strands of my hair. “Are you even listening to me? I know you. You can’t do casual. You’re demi, for fucks sake, that means your emotions are tied to your attraction.”

“Am I?” He turns back toward me, crossing his arms over his chest. “You told me if I didn’t like that label, I could throw it out. I don’t like the label.”

I push a frustrated breath out my nose and bite my cheek while I count to ten inside my head. Why can’t this be easy? Communication should be easy, but he clearly still has walls up.

“Fine. Friends with benefits,” I growl. I hate it. But I’m going to break down his walls until he can’t build them back up. “What rules do you want?”

He doesn’t look happy. In fact, he looks down right miserable.

“I don’t know yet.” He looks down at the floor between us. “My brain isn’t…I need a list. I can’t make a list when I can still feel your mouth on me.”

I lick my lips as my eyes drag down his body. I’m not surprised he can still feel my lips on him because I can still taste his salty release.

“Okay,” I say. “We can make the list later.”

THIRTY-EIGHT

QUINN

Later that day, I sit at my desk and pull out my notebook. I did research on friends with benefits. The internet says there is basically one rule, ‘Don’t catch feelings.’ I already failed that one. But I’m not going to admit that to Daniel.

This is the only way to give myself some semblance of protection for my already involved heart. If he thinks it is just friends with benefits then he’ll stick around. Because he doesn’t do serious.

The pen is loud on the paper as I scrawl my list. Daniel is snoring softly on his bed. He crashed a few hours ago. He must have been up most of the night. Which means that when he wakes up, he could take it all back, because making decisions on sleep deprived brains isn’t a good idea. Never agree to things or sign contracts when you are lacking sleep.

One: No one else. No puck bunnies. No guys on the team. If you want someone else, this ends first.

Two: No one else knows. Not your team. Not Lincoln or Christine or any of your friends. In public, we’re roommates who hang out.

Three: Touching and kissing can be initiated by either of us.

Because I really want to be able to touch him when I want to and not be afraid of rejection.

Four: We don’t run away from conversations.

Five: We are not dating.

I stare at number five until the letters blur. Then I blink and underline not four times for emphasis. My chest hurts. But I need to add it so we both know what this is.

He inhales and turns his face into the pillow. Then he groans and I know he’s waking up. I set the pen down and bite my lip as he rolls toward me. He blinks sleepily at me and then smiles, and my stomach flutters. Apparently, even when butterflies have died, they can be resurrected. I might need to do an experiment on stomach butterflies. Maybe they are a real thing.