Tragically, Hunter changes into jeans and a plain white t-shirt. I suits him more than it should.

I stare more than I should.

Even as we get into the car, argue over the music, discuss the list of places to visit, I stare.

He's so pretty.

Touchable.

Fuckable.

I have to keep my wits about me.

To guide him to this realization with a light touch.

I have an idea about how to do that.

It's not my finest work.

But it's something.

I shoot Kaylee a text about our apartment hunt.

She texts back a request for pictures. And a gushing I miss you.

I miss her too.

It's hard, being away from my best friend.

But then—

I'm not ready to say goodbye to my little universe with Hunter.

As soon as Kaylee and Brendon get back, this is over.

We're no longer roomies.

It's easy for him to stick with just friends when we're living at separate places.

When he's reporting to my brother at work every day.

Fuck, I'm short on time here.

Still.

I have to be patient.

To do this right.

I straighten my thoughts as we park in Santa Monica.

It's a beautiful day—warm, sunny, bright—and this neighborhood is suburban paradise. Rows and rows of cozy houses with green lawns or succulent gardens. Teslas everywhere.

Hunter leads me into an old apartment building. It fits into the beachy aesthetic. Cozy and worn and charming.

He even opens the door for me.

I shudder as I step inside.

It's hot.

Way too fucking hot.

Seriously, it's a breezy seventy outside, but the hallway is a sauna.

I tug at my tank. Try to let some air cool me off.

Then Hunter steps into the tiny space and pushes the door closed and I give up on cooling off.

He's so close.

So tall and hard and safe.

We're so alone.

This isn't my brother's house. It isn't a place marked with reminders of why we shouldn't.

It's fresh.

Clean.

New.

Tiny.

Seriously, what the hell?

This place is half the size of the pictures.

"What a gorgeous view." I motion to the window looking out on the apartment building next door. "My favorite shade of cream."

"I was thinking the parking lot." He motions to the right side of the window. The spaces in front of that apartment building.

"Does this place have parking?"

"One spot."

That's workable. Kaylee bikes everywhere. And we can get a permit to park on the street.

But it will make entertaining a pain in the ass.

Not that it was easier at our old place.

Or Brendon's place.

Thank God for ride shares, I guess.

"You love it?" he asks.

I shouldn't—it's small and cramped and too fucking hot—but his proximity is enough to convince me. "It's a start."

"Yeah?" His fingers brush my hip as he moves past me. He goes to the window. Looks out at the view. Shakes his head. "You can do better."

"What about you?"

He arches a brow.

"Are you going to live with Brendon forever?"

"Yeah, we're going to start our own buddy show—"

"Brooding and Brooding-er."

He chuckles. "Exactly."

"Which is which?"

"You tell me."

"Hmm." I make Ls with my hands. Hold them up to frame Hunter. "As hard as you try, he's still Brooding-er."

"Fuck, Em." He mimes being stabbed in the gut. "You're as brutal as always."

"Okay, how about The Dom and The Celibate?"

"Oh? You want to talk about his sex life?"

No. I want him to say he's not fucking anyone.

Or to admit he wants to fuck me.

At least to himself.

"Was thinking it would be more about your challenge avoiding temptation," I say. "We could always have some pretty girl stumbling over herself. Somehow falling out of her dress. That's good for ratings."

"Probably is."

"Do you watch any comedies?"

He chuckles. "Fuck off."

"So brooding."

"Do you?"

"What?"

"Watch comedies?"

Uh… "Sometimes."

"Like what?"

"Like Seinfeld. Friends. All that stuff from the 90s. It was the golden age."

"Seinfeld?"

I nod.

"Isn't it all about them being unable to communicate directly?"

"Yeah."

"Don't need extra lessons."

"You're good with me."

"Maybe." He turns back to me. Stares into my eyes. "Should we get out of here?"

"After we check out the bedrooms."

He nods and moves to the other end of the room. To the hallway.

But it doesn't go to bedrooms.

Only to a single bathroom.

Hunter chuckles. "Fuck, who put these listings together?"

"An idiot," I tease.

"He's probably used to getting by on his looks."

"Aren't they always?"

I move around the room, trying to imagine our stuff filling the space.

It's not quite as small as my bedroom, but it would still be a struggle.

There's no way we'd have any privacy.

I motion to one corner. "I could sleep there." Then to the other. "Kay could sleep there. I could watch her fuck my brother when he stays the night."

"Does he?"

"Usually, they go to his place. Our place, I guess."

"To spare you?"

"It's a bigger place."

"With the under-the-bed restraints."

My nose scrunches in distaste.

He chuckles. "You ever try those?"

"No. Have you?"

"A few times."

"Which way?"

"Both."

"Oh." That's not what I expected. For all his talk about how empty his fucks were and how little he gave, I wouldn't expect him to allow someone to tie him up.

Not that I want to.

I mean, I don't not want to.

Fuck, it's hot in here.

"What else?" I ask.

"What else?"

"Did you try?"

"Everything."

"Why?" I move closer. Until I can feel the heat of his body. God, I'm on fire.

He turns toward me.

His eyes fix on mine.

There's no wall between us.

Between Emma and Sex.

He's discussing this.

Opening up to me.

It's perfect.

"Sometimes, because I was drunk. Or because I didn't care what we did as long as I got off." He runs his hand through his hair. "But mostly 'cause, deep down, I wanted to feel it more."

"More intensely?"

"Not physically."

"You wanted a connection."

He nods. "At the time, I thought it was nothing. A distraction."

"That's what you told me."

"Yeah. It was. But I think there was a part of me that always wanted more."

"It must have been lonely."

"Yeah. Nobody knew the real me. Not even me."

"Now?"

"Now…" He chuckles. "Hate to break it to you, Em, but you're my best friend."

My lips curl into a smile. "That sucks for you."

"It's not so bad."

It's a quick drive to the second apartment.

It's a beautiful place. Big. Clean. Miraculously air-conditioned.

But even with all eight hundred square feet, there isn't enough space for the desire racing through my veins.

I want him.

I want him too much to stay friends.

If I can't make him see the light—

God, I don't want to think about that possibility.

I really, really don't.

I move through the wide, open main room into a short hallway. Then the bedroom on the right. It overlooks the cozy neighborhood. A big blue house. A white and grey one-story. An apartment complex with a modern design.

Hunter steps into the room.

The air changes. Gets sharp. Electric.

His breath fills the space.

My heart pounds.

My sex clenches.

My knees wobble.

We're alone in a bedroom. What might become my bedroom.

This is everything it's supposed to be.

Only it's not.

"You like it?" he asks.

I take a deep breath. Force my thoughts to straighten. Yeah, I need to show him the light. I also need to find a new place for me and Kay.

I can't let Vinnie fuck that up too.

Our new apartment needs to be as awesome as our old one.

This place is nice. Two bedrooms. Close to the beach. Big windows.

It's a little more expensive, but we can still make it work.

"Yeah." I turn back to Hunter. Stare into his gorgeous blue eyes. "What do you think?"

"This neighborhood isn't you."

Maybe. This is the part of Santa Monica filled with families and quaint cafés. "Walker lives over here."

"Does he?" Hunter closes the space between us.

I swallow hard. "A little closer to the promenade. But yeah. He, uh…" I lose track of my words. Who cares where Walker lives when Hunter is this close?

His hip brushes mine.

Then his arm.

The back of his hand.

He brings his palms to the window. Stares at the picturesque blue sky. "The neighbors probably call the cops if the music is too loud."

I laugh. "Probably."

"How will you live if you can't blast Bayside?"

"I have headphones."

"You're gonna blow out your eardrums."

"I'll keep it reasonable."

"Good." His fingers brush my ear. "Would hate if I couldn't talk to you anymore."

"You could. You'd just have to shout."

"What if your hearing goes completely?"

"We'd learn sign language together."

"That's a commitment."

"Yeah, but you already told me I'm your best friend."

He smiles. "Using that to manipulate me already?"

"Stating facts."

He turns. Rests his ass against the wall. Stares back at the hallway. "I'm not sure I see it."

I do. Kinda.

My bed could go against the wall.

My dresser next to it.

The closet has plenty of space for my stuff.

Then my vanity in the corner.

No, there's only room for my vanity or my desk.

And there's no way I'm giving up on my desk. I poured my heart into that thing over the last year. Every time I felt something strong, I channeled it into that desk. Found the right lyric to express it. Scribbled in the right color.

Hell, I even drew on it.

And I can't draw for shit.

If I can see that, then maybe this can work.

"You're thinking something," he says.

"About my desk."

"It's cute."

"You mean with the writing?"

He nods.

"Kaylee did that first. I stole her idea."

"Great artists steal."

"Who said that?" I ask.

"I did."

"Did not."

"Did too."

He shoots me a look.

Oh. "You trying to trick me." I push him playfully. "Asshole."

He nods yeah. "Is there rhyme or reason to it?"

"I guess it's whatever I felt at the moment. The lyrics that captured my mood. Or a drawing. It's a collage of the last year."

"Huh."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Something." It's in his eyes. He's thinking something.

"The desk at your apartment?"

I nod. "Yeah, I decorated the one at home back in high school. What's the difference?" They're both white desks covered in various shades of marker.

"There's a vibe to that desk," he says. "Maybe 'cause it was the only decoration in your room."

"Oh."

"It seemed hurt. Angry."

"No. I just…"

"You've been hurt."

"By you."

"Yeah." He stares into my eyes. "I'm sorry."

"I…" Uh… "Thank you."

"If there's anything you want to talk about—"

"Not right now." Eventually, yeah. But not with this wall between us. Not with him trying so hard to resist me. "But thanks."

He nods sure.

I move into the hallway. The main room. The kitchen.

Hunter follows a few paces behind.

It stays in the air.

The possibility of telling him.

Of easing the burden on my shoulders.

Of finding some understanding.

God, I want that.

I want that as much as I want to tear off his clothes.

And I really want to tear off his clothes.

I try to focus on the modern kitchen.

It's all stainless steel and high-end appliances.

Gas stove.

Enormous fridge.

High pressured sink.

Dishwasher.

Actual dishwasher.

God, I can see this. Making pancakes with Kaylee. Making dinner while she sits on the couch.

Or with Hunter helping chop and dice.

And sliding his arms around my waist. Setting his head into the crook of my neck. Pulling me close and kissing me like he'll never get enough.

I slide onto the counter. Press my knees together. Suck a breath through my teeth.

It does nothing to clear my head of delicious mental images.

It only makes them more vivid.

Be patient, Em. Wait for him to come to you.

But, God, he looks so good in that white t-shirt.

Those jeans slung low around his waist.

Those blue eyes fixed on me.

I can afford to push him a little.

I have to push him a little.

"Can you help me with something?" I press my lips together.

He moves closer. "Here?"

"Yeah." I spread my knees about six inches. My skirt is tight around my thighs. It's not exactly a fuck me on the counter skirt.

Unless he slides it to my waist.

And peels my panties to my ankles.

And…

"With?" He moves closer. Closer. Until he's standing in front of me.

"I have to see if this place is the right height."

"Really?"

"Yeah. So help me demonstrate."

"You do realize it will depend on the guy."

"You're a guy."

"Not the guy you're—"

"We could have figured it out already."

He shakes his head you're ridiculous, but it's there in his eyes.

He wants to play this game.

He wants me.

Hunter moves closer.

Until he's just barely between my legs.

I spread them as wide as I can.

So my thighs brush his hips.

Fuck, that feels good.

He's so close.

Closer than anyone's been since before.

But I'm not thinking about that.

I'm thinking about how I want to wrap my legs around him.

How I want to dig my hands into his hair.

How I want to unzip those jeans and stroke him until he comes.

He slides his fingers under my thighs. Lifts my legs just enough to pull us into position. Stares down at me like he's daring me back.

He's challenging me to something.

But I don't know what it is.

Only that I want it.

Just as quickly, he sets me down. Steps backward. "Well?"

"Perfect." My heart thuds against my chest.

"You're gonna share this apartment."

"I'll clean up after."

He cocks his head to one side, assessing my words. "You realize I'm taller than most guys."

"I like tall guys."

"All women say that."

"Yeah, but I'm five eleven. I should get first dibs."

He moves into the main room. "Is that how relationships work?"

"Yeah. Of course. Hot people stick together. Smart people stick together. Tall people stick together."

"Fucked-up people?"

"Exactly."