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Shaye

“So, you’re just going to go? He texts, and you go running? Didn’t that bite you in the ass the other night when you handed over your V-card to him?” Sloane cocks an eyebrow, her hands on her hips in the center of my bedroom. “What kind of message does that send?”

I let out a sigh and rummage through my underwear drawer. I want him to peel me out of something other than the granny panties I’m currently sporting. Something pretty and glittery since it’s New Year’s Eve. “Look, I know what you’re thinking. Heck, I’ve been burned enough to know that this may be a very bad idea. But I need to see him. I need to know if this is real, or if it’s all in my mind.”

“And you think that letting him screw you senseless is going to make it real?” Sloane shakes her head. “I’ll tell you one thing. The rejection will be real, and it’s going to hurt like a bitch.”

I slap my hands against my legs. “Why do you have to be so fucking logical all the time?”

Sloane grins. “Hey, I’m the one who’s supposed to talk you out of stupid choices. And you’re going to do what you want to do, but I’ll rest easier at night knowing I tried to prevent your subsequent emotional distress.”

I snicker. “And who’s the psych major here?”

Sloane flops onto my bed and watches me shimmy into a low-cut, black jersey top. “Well, at least you’re going to get laid. That’s something.”

“It’s not about that.” I smooth the front of the shirt and fluff out my hair. “Not at all. I just need to know once and for all if this thing between us is real. It’s not felt real with anyone else since I left for Miami.”

“How the hell are you going to even know? He’s never been straight with you, sweetie. He throws you a few crumbs and then when you lap them up, he goes running. What the hell is that all about?”

I sink down next to her on my frilly pink bedspread and trace the outline of the Eiffel Tower embroidered on the fabric. Lord, I have plenty of fantasies stored up involving me and Nico at the top, savoring everything French and fabulous…wine, cheese, baguettes, and lots of kissing. “I know you think I’m making a mistake, and maybe that’s true. But I have to find out if there’s something there, Sloane. If not, I can finally start the next chapter of my life. Hell, he’s taken up so many chapters I’m going to need to start a whole new book!” I grasp her hand and squeeze. “You’re my best friend, and I love you more than anything. But I’m going to do this. I’m going to see him.”

“And what happens if he pulls the same shit he’s done every time before this? If I can’t save you now, I sure as hell won’t be able to save you then.”

“I know, and I’m so thankful to have you looking out for me.”

“But you’re still going.”

I nod, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips. “I’m still going.”

Sloane stands up and throws her hands into the air. “Okay, then. You’re a big girl. You seem to know what you’re doing, even though I think we both know you’re full of crap. And I’ll still be around to pick up the pieces if you need me to.”

I pull her in for a quick hug and squeeze her tight. “What would I do without you?”

“I put together a list. I’ll text it to you.”

“God, I love you so much.” I giggle and link my arm with hers. “I’m sorry for bailing on you tonight. I know we planned a big New Year’s Eve celebration together with lots of hot chocolate, chick flicks, and Oreos.”

“Well, lucky for you, I have a replacement date waiting in the wings. A big ol’ pile of textbooks.” Sloane snickers as we walk down the stairs. “It’s gonna be a steamy one, so yeah. Please don’t keep me from getting down and dirty with those.”

“Oh my God, what an image! I’m already getting hot just thinking about it!” I giggle, tripping into her just as we step into the dimly lit foyer. I reach out to grab her arm before she stumbles into a sofa table, but I reach out a second too late. Luckily for her, Max steps out of the shadows in time for her to slam right into his massive chest.

“Max!” She gasps, jumping back.

“What’s up, creeper?” I hip-check him as I walk past. “Everything okay?”

He grunts a response but never tears his eyes from Sloane’s face. It’s not a warm and fuzzy look either. It’s cold, angry, and…something else…could it be? Hurt? Disappointment? It sure doesn’t look like they had a few casual dates and then amicably parted ways. It looks…angsty.

Sloane can’t seem to drag her eyes away from Max either, not that she’s uttered a single syllable since she crash-landed against him.

I furrow my brow. Jesus, the tension in here is choking me, how are they still breathing? Watching this is so much better than any Netflix drama.

Sloane’s lips lift, and I can see a spark ignite deep within her bright green eyes. “You look nice,” she murmurs to Max.

“Event at the club,” he replies. No return smile, and his words are void of tone and emotion. He gives her absolutely nothing. I wonder if he’ll shut down in the same way when I hit him with my long list of questions as soon as she leaves.

“Oh, well, have fun.” The look of dismay on her face isn’t lost on me. Holy crap, she really does have it bad. When did she go from the little girl who used to catch worms to put in Max’s shoes to the woman who is about to melt into a pile of goo under his hard stare?

I narrow my eyes at them. And why does this not at all resemble the scenario she painted for me over coffee? She made it seem like they went out and things just fizzled. But there is so much electricity in here right now, it could probably power the whole block.

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