Fucking hell.

I can't focus. Can't concentrate. Can't accomplish anything at work. Can't focus at home, either—because she's everywhere. Her scent is all over our apartment. Half her bathing supplies are in my shower since we've been sharing lately. I keep finding her long red hairs in my bed, and I roll them between my fingers every time, wishing things were different. Wishing she felt the same way that I do.

But she made it clear how she feels. When she told me I should go on that date with Chris's friend. When she told me that next time I'd find someone I had a connection with. I'm not an idiot. I can take a hint. She's reminding me of our terms. Reminding me that I'm not supposed to catch feels here—I'm supposed to be her sperm donor, nothing more.

Never mind that it's driving me insane to think about her going about her daily life without me right now. Never mind that the thought being with anyone else but her makes me sick to my stomach. Never mind that the thought of her with anyone else but me makes me want to tear that imaginary guy limb from limb with jealousy.

Never mind any of that.

Except that I can't. I can't forget about it. I feel like I'm going crazy. Is this how normal people feel? She walks past my desk, and I lose a whole half an hour of work, first from watching her pass, then from thinking about all the other times I'd watched her walk by today, then from thinking about what I want to do to her, right now. If we could sneak into one of the supply closets maybe, lock the door from the inside, then I could peel that dress off her body and trace the curves that I've come to know so well...

"What are you spacing out daydreaming about?"

I startle and glance up to find Chris hovering next to my desk. I shake my head and turn back to the work at hand—work that I've barely been able to focus on at all, all day. "Nothing. Just really don't want to finish this report," I bluff.

"I can tell. Spencer was asking what's up with you, whether you've been drinking too much lately or something. He's worried."

I grimace. Spencer is our boss—and normally he doesn't concern himself with our day-to-day shit. If he's getting worried about my performance, then things must be even worse than I thought. All because I can't focus here, can't focus anywhere. "I'll get it together," I mutter.

"Good," Chris is saying, but I can hear from his tone that he's distracted already. I look up, only to find him gazing across the office at a completely different distraction.

Lacy looks good today, I have to admit. Again, I'm totally biased in favor of Rina, but Lacy has a glow about her I've never noticed before—not to mention she's curled her hair and put on a super expensive-looking outfit, all tight curves. To judge by the way she keeps peeking over her shoulder in Chris's direction, I think we can all guess why she's pulled out all the stops lately.

"What about you?" I nudge him with an elbow, mostly to force him back off my desk, which he's begun to lean on in his distraction. "You seem pretty spacey lately too."

"Three guesses why." Chris groans and runs a hand through his hair.

"What's the matter, did you bite off more than you can chew this time?" I smirk. "I thought you were the expert at these things."

"Maybe. Listen, can we get lunch later, actually? I need some... advice, I guess."

My eyebrows shoot skyward. In all the years we've known each other, I don't think Chris has ever once asked me for advice. Even when he needed advice, he'd never actually ask for it. "Okay..." I reply slowly. "Chicken Brothers at 1PM?" That gives me enough time to finish the pile of emails I'm currently snowed underneath—that is, of course, assuming that I can pull my head out of my own ass for long enough to focus through this stack of work.

"Fine by me," he says, already shoving off my desk and drifting back toward his own. "See you there."

* * *

Chicken Brothers, the sandwich shop down the block from our office, is crammed with people when we arrive. We find a table near the back, and order the same thing we get every time—Chris orders the chicken fingers, because as I tell him every time, he's secretly a kindergartener, and I order the double chicken patty sandwich, because as he always tells me, I'm an overeater.

Personally, I just think he's jealous that my metabolism works fast enough that I can eat pretty much whatever I want and not lose the cut of my muscles unless I completely foreswear the gym entirely, but that's neither here nor there. Today, for once, I don't feel like making fun of him as we sit down to our separate meals, and I watch him disinterestedly pick over his chicken finger selection, not even taking a single bite yet.

"Well?" I finally prompt, after far too long of sitting here across from one another in what's quickly growing into an awkward silence. "Are you going to tell me what the hell is up with you?"

"I'm in hot water with Spencer too," he finally admits with a groan. "Behind on all my deliverables, making up excuses every ten minutes for shit. Hell, I haven't responded to a single email all week, and it's already Friday. What the hell is wrong with me?"

I lift my eyebrows. Whatever I expected from this lunch, it wasn't this. "You're normally so on top of things."

"I know, I know. So are you, though," he points out with a glance. "Maybe it's something in the air."

"Or something in skirts and heels," I reply with a sarcastic lift of my brow.

"Or that," Chris groans. He sets down his latest chicken finger, still covered in ketchup, abandoning any pretense that he's actually going to eat the thing. "I don't know what the hell has gotten into me lately, Cannon."

"Tell me about it," I say, meaning one thing, but Chris takes that as an invitation.

"Suddenly it just seems like all I can think about is Lacy. I've never been one for pulling that kind of shit, you know me. I like to get in, get out, and get back to my comfortable life before anyone can sink their claws into my chest. I know how relationships turn out—I've seen the fallout of those everywhere my whole life."

I nod in sympathy. After all, both Chris's parents divorced, remarried, and divorced again. I don't blame him for being a bit gun-shy about relationships, coming from a home like that.

"But suddenly, with her, it just... The sex is great, don't get me wrong—I keep coming back for more for a reason. But just... Why can't I get her out of my head, now that it's all said and done? Why do I keep thinking about her constantly and why do I actually feel like maybe for once I might actually... want more than just the sex?"

I shake my head and steal a chicken finger from his plate, having already finished most of my sandwich. I mean, hey, if he's not going to eat them... "I don't know, dude," I tell him, head still wobbling from side-to-side. "It sounds like you might actually like this girl for once."

"But that's not something I do," he protests.

Believe me, I know all too well how you feel, I think. Though of course, I can't say that out loud. "Why can't you try it?" I ask, reasonably, as I finish off my sandwich and reach for my soda.

"Because." He flings his hands in the air. This draws stares from more than a few of the other customers, and Chris groans, then leans forward and lowers his voice.

Shit. He sounds almost as crazy as I feel thinking about Rina. I sympathize.

"Look. We went into this knowing that we're both players, and thinking it'd be fun to try playing the game together. But it's like you said when you first asked me about Lacy—she's casual. Chill. She's not looking for anything more than hooking up right now. And I thought I wasn't either—I never exactly have been before. We're not on the same page here, at all. She wants just a hookup. So I can't go and tell her how I actually feel, because that would screw it all up. Plus, we work together, think how complicated it will get when this ends, let alone if she knows I have feelings for her that she doesn't reciprocate?"

I sip my soda thoughtfully for a minute. "But you do," I finally prompt.

He frowns. "Do what?"

"Have feelings for her."

His scowl deepens. "It's not like I want to. I didn't sign up for this."

"No, dude, I know, but you're in it now. You like this girl. You could actually picture yourself having more than just a hookup with her, for once in your life. Is that right?"

He heaves a sigh and stares past me, over my shoulder, spacing out for a moment. "Yeah. I guess that's about right. Accurate summary of the situation. So what? Doesn't change anything."

Except.

Except that I already know from talking to Rina about their situation—which she's been following avidly, getting all the new details from Lacy every step of the way—that Lacy is in a similar position. She started to wonder if this relationship could maybe be more. If one day, they might actually be a couple, and not just fuck buddies.

I can't tell Chris that, obviously. It would be betraying Rina's confidence, not to mention it would piss off Lacy to no end to learn that Rina told me everything, I'm sure. The whole situation is a mess, but to me, from where I'm sitting on the outside, it's such a mess that it's almost laughable.

I mean, Lacy is probably having this exact same angst-filled conversation with Rina over their lunch right now. She's probably agonizing about the fact that she's realized she actually likes Chris, despite knowing that he's a player and the last guy in the office she ought to be starting some fling with underneath everybody's noses. Her feelings are running deeper, but she thinks she's the only one, so she'll never open up to him, never tell him what she's actually feeling.

And here he's sitting, with the exact same problem, which could be easily solved if the two of them would set aside their fears and egos for a minute and have an honest heart-to-heart conversation.

I almost have to laugh.

Almost.

But Chris is my friend, and besides, I know all too well what this feels like from his side of things. After all, Rina and I are different. Rina isn't like Lacy. She isn't the type to catch feelings, especially not in a situation like this, where she specifically laid out what she wants. Yes, I might get vibes from her sometimes, sense that she likes me a little bit more than she lets on, but she was clear about what she wanted out of our arrangement.

A baby. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Our mess is completely different from theirs. So much more complicated. But it doesn't mean I don't sympathize with the guy.

"Listen, I know this is going to sound weird," I tell him. "And I know you aren't necessarily going to believe me. And that's fine. But just, for what it's worth... I think you should go for it. Okay?"

Chris frowns. "Go for what? There's nothing to go for. This is just me being an idiot."

"You don't know that, dude. Not until you actually talk to Lacy. For all you know, she could be in the same bind as you right now, okay? Take it from someone who's a little farther away from the situation than you, so I'm able to see things a little bit more clearly. The way Lacy acts around you, the way she's been dressing to the nines every day at work lately, the way she's always catching your eye in the office? That's all a clue. A hint that you two might be in the same boat. But you're never going to know unless you say something to her. Do something about it."

He scowls. "What if you're wrong, though? What if it is just me, what if I'm imagining that she reciprocates because I'm just seeing what I want to see in this situation?"

"If you're wrong and she's not into you in the same way, then so what? At least you know. At least you can move on then, and see things for what they really are. Isn't it always better to just put yourself out there and know the truth?"

He chews on the inside of his cheek for a minute. Then, finally, he lifts a chicken finger to his mouth and takes a slow bite. "I guess you're right," he says finally. "But fuck, man, that's intimidating."

"You'll survive," I tell him, stealing another finger from his plate. "Can't be as intimidating as our Monday morning board meeting next week is going to be, now that both of us are on Spencer's bad side with all of our slacking," I point out.

He groans and rolls his eyes. "Please, don't remind me. I'll take anything over that suffering."

"Be careful what you wish for," I warn him. But as we throw out our trash and head back toward the office, I can't help feeling a twinge of worry. For all the confidence I had when I gave Chris advice, I don't feel any of that same security about my own situation. I can't take my own advice, not with Rina. Not with her trying for a baby, and all the extra complications that adds.

If I tell her I've started to fall for her, then she might need to set up completely different arrangements. Find someone else who can uphold the whole No Strings Attached side of the bargain when it comes to sex and knocking her up. Start all over again with that guy, trying for someone else's kid.

Just the thought of that, the idea of her asking someone else the same favor she asked me, of having some other guy put his dick in her, try to fill her belly with his seed... It makes me furious. It makes me want to tear that imaginary competitor apart. And it makes me want to steal her away, keep her all to myself, no matter what it takes.

But that, of course, would be impossible by then. I'd have already broken our agreement, and it wouldn't be anyone's fault but my own.

No. Rina and I are different. We're not like Lacy and Chris. We need to see this through, to the end.

After her next cycle, I decide. If she gets pregnant this time, and she prepares to go on her own way, move out into her own place, then I'll tell her. Then I can take that leap, just in case. On the off chance that she might be willing to give me a chance, then at least, we'd have a real shot.

And if not, well, at least I'll have the memories we made together. And at least I'll know, like I told Chris. And she'll have the baby she wanted. If she doesn't feel the way for me that I feel for her, then I'll uphold my end of the bargain. I'll stay out of things, away from her, no matter how much it kills me inside.

That's what I need to do, I decide. It's the only thing I can do. Hang on through this last cycle, get her pregnant, and then...

Then I'll face the music. Then I'll finally tell her how I feel.