It wasn’t that I was trying to avoid her, exactly. But keeping Elle out of my line of sight was definitely one reason why I was hiding out in a dark corner of the bar sucking face with some random chick.

Carrie? Candy? Who the fuck could remember. I’d had way too many beers over the course of the night to retain trivial facts like that.

All I knew for sure was she had huge tits and raven-black hair and a bunch of girlie flower tats, and she was five-foot-nothing. So she looked nothing like Elle. She felt nothing like Elle as I pressed her up against the wall and wrapped her legs around my waist. She was wearing a short, short skirt and, upon closer discovery, a very skimpy thong. I could’ve fucked her, right here against the wall—in theory. Except for one problem.

My dick wasn’t the least bit hard.

I could’ve tried to blame that on the alcohol as she snaked her tongue around mine and pressed her tits against me and wiggled her crotch against my belt buckle, seeking friction, but I wasn’t that drunk. I’d been falling-down, on-the-edge-of-blackout drunk, and still been able to get it up.

In fact… I couldn’t remember a time in my life, ever, when I’d been making out with a chick and the equipment didn’t spring to life.

Fortunately—or unfortunately—she slid her hand down the front of my jeans, digging for gold. At the same moment, someone tapped lightly on my shoulder, and I tore my face away from her, weirdly grateful for the interruption.

Elle stood there, right next to me.

As I detached the girl from my hips and set her on her feet, she pouted, pulling her hand from my jeans. I adjusted myself, maybe out of habit, though there really wasn’t anything to adjust. There was zero going on down below.

“Gimme a minute,” I told her. She pouted again, but glanced at Elle and gave her a quick—embarrassed?—nod, then vanished.

“Hey,” I forced out. “Great show.” I hadn’t seen Elle since she came offstage, but she definitely didn’t look any less killer this close up, with her shimmery stage makeup and little white dress.

“Thank you,” she said.

I looked away, pretending to be watching the chick I’d just been making out with, but I honestly couldn’t find her in the crowd. Wasn’t sure I could’ve picked her face out of a lineup.

The late hour and the booze and the music seemed to have turned all the women in sight into horny animals, though. They were dancing with every available guy, dancing with each other… and I couldn’t really picture myself with any of them.

Elle just stood there, looking at me, and I wondered where Seth was.

I glanced at her. She was looking at me weirdly. Very weirdly.

Like she had any business judging my hookups? When Seth Brothers was back in her life for two-point-five seconds and she’s running off to Hawaii with him and getting knocked up with his kid?

“You know who that is, right?” she asked me.

“Huh?” I followed her eyes as she glanced over at the chick I’d just been tongue-wrestling—she was there, talking with some other girls, who were stealing glances my way. I recognized her tats and her tits, but that was about it. So maybe I could pick those out of a lineup.

“Candace?” Elle said, her gray eyes scanning me. “Summer’s cousin? From New York?” She frowned. “Is any of this ringing a bell with you?”

Not really. Though that did explain why she kinda looked familiar.

“So?”

“So… maybe you remember her from such events as Thanksgiving dinner last year?”

I just stared at Elle, blankly. It was kinda coming back to me now… But who cared? Summer was hardly gonna give a shit I’d made out with her cousin. She never gave a shit who I hooked up with.

“If you don’t remember her,” Elle went on, “maybe you remember her husband? Or their son?”

Oh.

I shrugged. Wasn’t exactly my fault the girl was married and didn’t give a fuck about it. I didn’t make a practice of screwing around with married chicks, but she didn’t exactly shove her wedding ring in my face when she had her hand down my pants.

Elle sighed. She had one hand, maybe unconsciously, pressed flat to her stomach. Holding her baby; like she was soothing it. Protecting it from the ugly scene in front of her.

I swiped my beer bottle from the ledge, where I’d placed it to free up my hands so I could squeeze that chick’s tits, and tipped it at Elle. “Have a good one.” Then I started to walk away.

“Hey,” Elle said, stepping into my path. I stopped short, not quite bumping into her. She peered up at me. “Can we talk?”

“Nope. Not if you’re gonna lecture me on where I put my dick.”

She winced a little. “I’m not. Let’s just sit down, okay?”

She looked weary; I noticed that now. Under her makeup, the delicate skin under her eyes looked a bit dark. She looked fragile, vulnerable.

Pregnant.

“Fine.” I turned abruptly and dropped onto the bench against the wall. The one I’d briefly considered screwing Summer’s married cousin on. I sank some beer and stared straight ahead at the bodies writhing on the dance floor as Elle sat down next to me.

“I know this may not be the best time to say this…” She trailed off, and I looked over at her. She was sitting at a slant, facing me, her gaze intent on my face. Her eyebrows had pinched together a bit. “It’s just… with everything that’s going on, I’m not sure when I’ll get another chance. I’ve got some obligations down in L.A., and after that Seth and I are going back to Hawaii for a bit. Taking a bit of time together, you know, without the media circus all over us, before Dirty gets together to finish the album.”

“Great,” I said, automatically. “Sounds like you guys have it all worked out.”

Her shoulders dropped. “Ash. I just… I want to say I’m sorry. If I hurt you. I hope you know that was never my intention. I definitely didn’t mean to. I just didn’t think—”

“It’s fine,” I said. “We’re friends. That’s all we ever were, right?”

“We are friends,” she said. “And I hope we’re always going to be. I care about you, Ash. You know that.”

“Yup.” I took a swig of my beer, holding her gaze. “‘Friends forever,’ right?”

Friends forever.

That’s what she’d said to me, all fucking sarcasm, just before I rammed my dick into her for the first time. The night of Jesse’s wedding. When I’d—stupidly—offered to fuck her to help her get over him. When I’d insisted that we stay friends, and not fuck with the friendship if we fucked.

Clearly, she remembered that moment.

Her mouth twisted a little as she bit her lip. I could see the concern in her eyes, and all I wanted to do was run from it.

“Don’t worry about it,” I told her. “You win some, you lose some, right?”

“Ash—”

“Seriously. I’m happy for you. That baby’s gonna be hella cute. And Seth’s back with Dirty. It’s all good. I’ve got women lined up around the block, right?” I punctuated that with a swig of beer and gestured vaguely at the packed bar. “Who’s complaining?”

“Right,” she said, sounding unsure. Her hand went to her stomach again.

“Come on,” I said, hitting her with that killer smile the fangirls loved. “You know I make jokes, Elle. I’m good. I’m drunk. I just need to get laid.” I sat up, like I was ready to go do just that the second she’d let me off the hook.

She nodded, slowly, and like she didn’t believe me, her gray eyes on mine. I looked right back at her, as steady as I could.

Then she stood and looked down at me.

She wasn’t showing yet, but her body was already changing. Her short, tight dress showed the exaggerated curves, the fullness of her swollen breasts.

I looked away, swallowing the utter fucking jealousy that lodged like an ice pick in my throat.

So she was knocked up with Seth Brothers’ kid.

Why the fuck did that bother me so much?

Because that means she’s never gonna be yours, asshole.

Never.

“Let’s hang out when I get back,” she said, finally, after staring at me for too long. “We’ll do dinner with Summer.”

Yeah. Sounded great. Maybe we could just round up all my ex-girlfriends and have a fucking luncheon.

“Cool.” I sank the last of my beer and got to my feet. Then I wrapped my hand around the back of her head and kissed her, firmly, on the forehead. “Take care of yourself, Elle.”

“You, too,” she said, kinda softening. Relieved, maybe, that I was acting vaguely human. But that little crease was still there between her eyebrows.

She put her hand on my arm, briefly, and squeezed. “See you, Ashley.” She gave me a lingering, sympathetic look.

Then she walked away.

Flynn had been leaning in the darkness nearby and mobilized to shadow her across the room. I watched her go, and it felt like fucking hell. There was a crushing feeling in my chest that did not make any sense to me.

It had to be the beer, making me extra fucking morose and unable to deal.

It’s not like I was in love with Elle, right?

I’d already learned, through being a fucking idiot in love, once—with Summer—that love was a fucking illusion. One day you’re so deep in it, it’s all you can see. The whole world looks different. You’re on another fucking planet, just you and this one chick, with the sun and the moon fucking rising and setting in her eyes.

All that bullshit.

Then it fucking fades.

It dies.

It’s gone, and just like waking up from some dream, you can never get it back again.

You realize maybe it was never even fucking real.

And you watch the one person you thought you’d love forever, you thought you’d never be able to live without, go on to love someone else—like you never even fucking mattered.

I made my way to the nearest bar and ordered up a fresh bottle. I leaned on the bar, watching people dance and make out.

Who the fuck needed love?

From now on, it was just me and Dylan—and whoever was gonna warm my bed with the least amount of drama possible. Casual sex.

Fuck ’em and forget ’em.

I didn’t need anything more than that.

As I downed my next beer, I made the decision, and it was like a fucking weight was lifted off my chest. I felt it, so fucking freeing, as I watched Elle and Seth head out of the bar all wrapped up in each other.

Then I pushed off the bar and went to get laid.

I was never, ever falling in love again.

In fact, I was gonna go ahead and tell Dylan that if I did, he could just go ahead and put me the fuck out my misery.

Immediately.

Yeah…

Fuck love.

* * *