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“Liv.”
“Tyler, please,” I whisper. My words are barely audible over the noise in the bar.
I’m not ready for that—I’m not ready to admit out loud to someone how I almost died because I was once addicted to someone so intensely that I truly believed my life wasn’t worth living without him.
“I’ll take you home.” He stands.
I do, too, wrapping my arms around my stomach. Those memories are tightly locked away. Stuck in a box locked with a key I threw away long ago. I don’t want to remember them and see the pain in my best friend’s eyes when I regained consciousness or the helplessness in my parent’s gaze.
The ride back to my apartment is almost painful. There’s an uneasy silence between us, and the longer it goes on, the more the reality of this situation collapses onto me.
There are no lines.
As easily as he wiped away my invisible one on the table earlier, Tyler has wiped away the real ones.
There are no lines, but there are strings and all sorts of bullshit I’m not prepared to wade through right now.
“Come up,” I say, my hand on the door. “With me.”
“Are you sure?”
I nod. He follows me up the stairs. When we reach the top, Sean’s door opens and he steps out. His mouth forms an ‘o’ and he looks at me.
“Maybe I’ll try again later,” he mutters.
“Sean,” I say, knowing that he’s looking for an introduction, “this is Tyler. Tyler, this is my neighbor, Sean.”
I think Sean’s about to fall over and Tyler hasn’t even opened his mouth yet.
“Nice to meet you, mate. Sorry about last time.”
“He’s British,” Sean states, looking at me.
He drops Tyler’s hand and gasps like a schoolgirl. I shake my head frantically, begging him not to say anything. I can see it all falling into place.
“He’s Mr. Tall, Dark, Handsome, and Oh So British!” he all but squeals.
Thank you, Sean, you rat bastard.
“Nice to see you, Sean. We’ll catch up soon. Goodbye!” I push my apartment door open and walk in.
Tyler is laughing behind me, and as much as I’m annoyed at Sean for blurting that out, I’m thankful that he cut through the tension.
“Mr. Tall, Dark, Handsome, and Oh So British, huh?”
I clap my hands to my flaming cheeks. “I didn’t know your name. I had to call you something when I explained to my other best friend how you stole my orgasm and that pretty much summed it up.”
“I stole your orgasm?”
“Eh. You gave it back, so who cares?”
“Want another?” He kisses the back of my neck.
I turn to face him and grip the collar of his shirt. “I’m not going to argue if you insist.”
“In that case…” He cups my ass and pulls me flush against him before sealing his mouth against mine. My knees weaken at the fervor he kisses me with, like he’s drowning and I’m the air he needs to survive.
Deep and intense, every brush of his lips and flick of his tongue touches me everywhere. I back up until I bump into my kitchen table. Tyler slides his hands to the back of my knees and lifts me, setting me on the top of it.
