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After cleaningmy apartment three times over didn’t help take my mind off of Westonat all, I was in knots.
An overly full workday plus cleaning should’ve wiped me out enough to fall into bed without a second thought, crashing into a much-needed sleep, but it didn’t. I laid in bed, desperate for a reprieve from my constant analyzing and overthinking.
Around eleven I finally gave up, sitting up in bed while I reached for my phone. I didn’t give myself time to think before I dialed up Weston.
“What are you doing up?” he asked by way of answer.
My heart fluttered at the sound of his voice, and I rolled my eyes at myself. “I have a problem,” I said, launching right into it. “Do you have time?”
“I’m not like Asher,” he said. “I don’t need to schedule you in, Brynn. What’s up?”
I laughed at the joke at Asher’s expense, both of us having witnessed the man’s extreme schedule. To be fair, it worked for him in a way that would never work for Weston, but I managed to create his schedule around how he operated, so to each their own.
I took a deep breath, suddenly wondering if I actually had the courage to say what I needed to. Lucky for me, I was over-exhausted and sleep-deprived, which gave me that immortal feeling that was usually never good for anyone.
“Okay, so I have a problem,” I said again. “And normally, I would talk it out with my best friend—”
“Hendrix?” Weston teased, and I laughed again.
“You’re right, maybe I should call him.”
It wasn’t a half-bad idea. He’d known Weston as long as I had, and we’d all been friends since high school…but he wasn’t Wes. And yeah, I was friends with Daisy, but we weren’t as close as me and Wes. I’d never actually had a tight knit group of girlfriends before because it had been me, Wes, and Hendrix through high school and beyond. Once I took a job as his personal assistant, his friends became mine. And while I loved the Asher, Ethan, Cross, and Gareth as much as the next person, I wasn’t about to call them up to ask for advice when it came to this.
“Out with it, Brynn,” he said.
“Okay, here goes,” I said, fiddling with my blanket. “I can’t stop thinking about this guy.”
“Uh huh,” he said, urging me on.
“He’s funny and smart and stubborn and really, really sexy.”
“Sounds like a dream.”
“He kind of is,” I said. “And I thought I’d be able to stop thinking about him once we…once we…”
“Fucked,” he filled in for me, and a flush raked down my body.
“Yeah. I figured once I got him out of my system, we’d be fine. But I’m not fine. I can’t stop thinking about him. And another detail that really sucks about this situation is that I see him all the time. It’s not like I can just ignore him. And every time I see him…” I pause, my mind wandering with the swirl of emotions inside of me.
“What happens every time you see him?” Weston asked.
“I feel like I can’t breathe,” I admitted, rubbing at the spot on my chest that ached. “I see him and I want him in every way possible.”
“Fuck,” he said on a loosed breath.
“Another issue,” I continued. “Is that I’ve known him forever. He’s my best friend. And I don’t want to lose that.”
Weston was silent for a few moments, making everything inside me tangle with nerves.
“What would you do?” I asked. “What’s your advice?”
I could hear something rustling on the other end of line, like he was shifting around in his own bed. My imagination ran wild creating the visual image—he was likely shirtless, his hair mussed from the long day.
“I understand the fear,” he finally answered. “I wouldn’t want to lose my best friend either. She’s too important to my life.”
My shoulders dropped. “So you think I should bury everything?”
“No,” he said. “I don’t think that.”
