Am I dead? I must have choked on my own vomit and died last night, because this is not how I remember it feeling in my head when I was alive.

I stared up at the ceiling, because it was too much effort to close my eyelids again.

Oh God. Why am I being punished?

And then I remembered.

I slowly lifted up the comforter, very slowly sat up, and found that I was wearing my very tight jeans and bra. The black tank top that I had been wearing at the party was folded neatly on top of my dresser. There was a sleeve of crackers and a bottle of water by my bed.

Theo.

I raised my fingertips to my lips. Not because I felt like throwing up again, because I could still feel what it was like to move them over that man’s stubbly face. Oh crap—I licked his nipple!

I slowly, ever so slowly and quietly lifted myself out of bed and tiptoed over to the open door to close it. My thoughts moved slowly too, but my brain wanted to run. Away from Theo. Oh shit I totally dry-humped him. I could climb out the window, stay downstairs, shower and change there, then get out of the house without seeing him. I could stay with Chloe and Ethan overnight. Starting tomorrow I would be so busy with work it wouldn’t be an issue.

“You up? I’m making breakfast.”

Dammit.

He was calling out to me from the kitchen. How did he know I was up when he was all the way in the kitchen?

“I need to shower!”

No response.

I gulped down the entire bottle of water and managed to get to the hallway bathroom with a change of clothes, without raising my eyes from the floor. I could sense him in the kitchen, I could feel him grinning at me. It was infuriating. Balls! He must have cleaned the bathroom too, because there was no evidence of my tango with the toilet. What a sexy way to end the evening after finally feeling an erection against my thigh again after such a long erectionless stretch of time.

I couldn’t remember how to turn on the shower, but I couldn’t forget how big and hard he was.

For me.

Christ.

Twenty minutes later, I emerged from the bathroom feeling clean and vaguely human, wearing boyfriend jeans and a plain black T-shirt that neither hid nor accentuated my curves. I had decided to act as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. It was the polite, Midwestern thing to do, and my fallback approach to any type of potentially stressful situation.

Oh for the love of shirtlessness will you just give a girl a break?

His bare back to me, as he mixed up an almond milk/avocado/raw cacao powder/MCT oil/pea protein smoothie in the blender, I could tell that he’d already been out for a run, already done his post-run stretches. He was golden and still a little moist, wearing running shorts and his fancy running shoes. I wanted to wrap myself around him, lick that salty perspiration off his skin. I wanted him to turn and run towards me, grab me and throw me down on the sofa so we could finish what we’d started. I also wanted to time travel back to the moment when I’d shut the patio door after Chloe and Ethan had left, so I could say goodnight to Theo and retreat to my room, alone. If I’m being honest, I would have preferred to do the time travel thing after Theo had really given it to me on the sofa.

“Morning, Sunshine,” he said, nodding his head to the beat of whatever song he had last listened to. “How ya’ feelin’?”

“Super. Thanks.”

“Good. You need to thoroughly rehydrate. It’s a gorgeous day out there. Not too warm, not too sunny. Want a smoothie?”

“No thank you.”

He didn’t have a trace of hangover or awkwardness. “Scrambled eggs and turkey bacon are ready, gluten-free toast is almost up.”

I wrinkled my nose at the gluten-free prospect, and went to the fridge to pull out the butter that I would have to hide the toast under. I sat down at the counter, to shovel food into my face and stared at the plate.

“Orange juice?”

I shook my head.

“Just coffee?”

I nodded.

He plated the toast and sat down on the stool next to me, watching me, his arm brushing against mine when he reached for a slice. My body tensed up.

“What’s wrong?”

I gave him a look.

“You want me to put a shirt on.”

“Whatever you want, it’s your house.”

“It’s our house.”

“It’s your house.” Emotional distancing. It felt good.

“Why are you in such a bad mood?” He took a sip of coffee. “Did you not enjoy our little goodnight kiss as much as I did?”

I covered my face with my hands. “Oh my God.”

“What?”

I pushed the plate out of the way and dropped my forehead to the countertop, wrapped my arms around my head. You know—playing it cool.

“I can’t believe I did that.”

“It wasn’t just you.”

“I can’t believe we did that.”

“Why not?”

I sat up, removed my hands from my face and gave him a wide-eyed mystified look. “Because it’s you!”

He grinned. He shrugged his shoulders. “You were drunk. I’m irresistible. It was bound to happen eventually.”

Wait. Did he say the words “little goodnight kiss?” Was that all it was to him?

“It was a Cheat Day treat. Nothing counts on Cheat Day.”

I shook my head and turned away from him, gripping the edge of the counter. If it were a table I would probably have flipped it over. If I weren’t so exhausted and totally dehydrated. He was trying to piss me off. He was giving me an out, so I wouldn’t blame myself, and I knew it. And it did piss me off. He may as well have kissed me on the forehead again.

“Hey,” he said, his voice suddenly placating. “I don’t want you to feel weird about this.”

I was holding my breath. I couldn’t look at him. All this time, secretly being in love with him, willing myself to fall out of love with him, psyching myself up to start dating someone else, just so I could get drunk and fondle his abs before puking. It was hopeless.

I flinched when he touched my shoulder.

“Whoa.”

I exhaled. “Sorry. I’m tense.”

“Come on.” His eyes were twinkling and his tone of voice was lighthearted and teasing, as if he were encouraging me to jump into a lake. “This is me. We’re friends. Just a couple of dorks who’ve lived together for years, right? It’s Sunday morning. We’re having breakfast. We can do this.”

I smiled. I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t help it. He always made me smile. Even when I was dying inside. I could feel my body relaxing. My grip on the edge of the counter relaxed. I jumped into the lake.

“There ya go,” he said.

I put a piece of turkey bacon in my mouth and savored it. Yes. I could do this.

“And for the record. I’m glad you climbed up on me and kissed me. I liked it. I liked all of it. It was hot.” He took a bite of toast and chewed, all the while, reading the Wall Street Journal on his Kindle.

Asshole.

I pursed my lips. We’re just friends. It’s Sunday morning. We’re having breakfast. I don’t have to run away screaming.

“What kind of butter is this?” he asked, his eyes still didn’t leave his Kindle.

“Goat butter.”

“It’s fucking delicious.”

“I know.”

His eyes flicked up and caught me staring at him, as he licked his lips.

Bastard.

He immediately looked back down again. “Wanna go for a hike with me?”

“I would rather die.”

“A jog?”

“Death would still be preferable.”

“Power walk? Stroll in the park?”

“I thought you just went for a run.”

“I did. But we consumed a lot of carbs last night.”

“I think I barfed out most of mine.”

“You still need to detox. Move your body.”

“I have plans, actually.”

“Plans? Sounds serious.”

“It’s not, I just…I have to get ready to go, actually.”

“Go where?”

“Out.”

I wiped my mouth, took a few gulps of coffee before casually mentioning that I was meeting Ben at his place and then going with him to Ikea. He wanted me to help decorate his apartment. We had made the plans before the party, and hadn’t canceled them, despite Theo’s best efforts.

He stared at me for, I don’t know, five torturous seconds. “Ikea, huh? That is serious. That’s a serious couple thing.”

I made no comment. He was well aware that I had accompanied numerous friends to Ikea and helped them decorate, but I wasn’t going to remind him of this now.

“You’re planning on driving to his place?”

“Yes.”

“You’re really hungover. Hangover driving is almost as bad as drunk driving.”

“I’ll have another cup of coffee first.”

“No way. I’ll drive you.”

“No.”

“Why not? Where’s he live?”

“Not that far.”

“Echo Park?

“Silver Lake.”

“I’m driving you.”

“No.”

His palms were flat against the countertop. He watched me finish my coffee for a minute and ran his hands along the smooth marble edge. I struggled to make my brain stop imagining those hands on my bare skin instead.

“Okay,” he finally continued. “But there’s something I want to talk to you about first.” He turned to face me, and calmly stated: “We haven’t discussed this in a while. Since before we got married, I guess. But I think that we should just maintain the status quo here, once I’ve got my citizenship.”

I clutched my coffee mug, tapping my fingers against it. “What do you mean by status quo?”

“I mean you don’t need to move out. We don’t need to file for divorce.” From the way he said it, I could tell that he was expecting me to jump up and down and hug him. If I weren’t so hungover. But I was. And I didn’t.

“Why?”

“I don’t want you to move out.”

“Why not?”

“Because I like living with you. You’re the one who made this house a home. You can keep saving money, paying down your student loan.”

“And you can keep protecting me from all the sub-par guys out there who try to get to know me.”

“It’s not my fault they’re so unworthy of you.”

“Why do we have to stay married for me to live here?”

“We can keep the joint accounts. We can keep filing joint tax returns. There are way more benefits to being married, you know that.”

“Fake married.”

“Legally married.”

I stared at him, my mind racing, my heart racing even faster. I could feel heat rising to my cheeks. Of all the emotions that were coming up for me in this moment, I chose to go with my new best friends—irrational anger and unjustified resentment. “I’m not going to ask you for half of your money, Theo.” As soon as I said it, I regretted it. The look on his face was killing me. His whole body was deflating.

“Jesus. I don’t care about that.”

“Well neither do I.”

We didn’t do a prenup when we got married. Neither of us had all that much money then. Well, I certainly didn’t, and he wasn’t loaded at that point. I’m sure that once he hired a business manager that guy tried to pressure him into doing a postnuptial agreement, but Theo never brought it up. Still, I didn’t want his money. And I didn’t want him to stay married to me just so either of us could benefit financially.

“You honestly think that’s why I’d want to stay married to you? The money?”

“I don’t know…No. But it had to be said.”

He blinked and considered this, then nodded once. “I suppose.” He is nothing if not rational, which is why we had never had an actual two-way fight. It was a little frustrating.

“Anyway. It takes two to un-tango. I don’t want to get a divorce. Just so you know.”

I stared at him, dumbfounded. “Are you being serious right now?”

“Dead serious.”

“If I decided to file for divorce next month, say, after your naturalization ceremony, you’re saying that you wouldn’t sign the papers?”

“At this point, I can honestly say that I don’t want to.”

“Why not?”

If he had just said, right then, “I don’t want to divorce you because we kissed last night and I want to keep kissing you, as your husband,” I would have melted and said “okay.” But he didn’t.

He said: “Are you planning on filing for divorce next month?”

He was trying not to look nervous, but I could tell he really didn’t want to divorce me. I should have been happy about that, I suppose. I certainly didn’t want to stress him out. “No, I wasn’t planning on doing it next month, necessarily, I just assumed…”

“That’s why I brought it up.”

I sighed and poured myself another cup of coffee. This conversation was getting ridiculous. “You want to keep doing what we’re doing? Keeping our legal marital status a secret while you continue to bone other women?”

He nearly spat out his coffee. “Well, Gem, if you have any suggestions as to how we should make some adjustments to the current situation I would love to hear them.”

“You’re just trying to make me late for Ben.”

“Maybe Ben’s trying to keep you away from me.”

“He’s not. But what if he were? He has every right to.”

“I disagree, and don’t change the subject.”

“You’re the one who changed the subject.”

“This is kind of an important issue. I think we need to talk about this.”

“Agreed…We need to live separately, get a divorce, and go back to being just friends again.” I saw him wince, but I continued. “I need to start dating again.”

“You mean Ben?”

“Maybe. I need to be single. I don’t like lying.”

“About what?” His arched eyebrow challenged me.

About my feelings for you, idiot.

“I wouldn’t feel right living with you and dating someone else. I mean, someone new. I know it’s fine for you, but it isn’t for me, so I don’t want to do that.”

“Then don’t.”

“Don’t live with you?”

“Don’t date someone else.”

“I have to.”

“Are you horny, baby?” He did his Austin Powers imitation. It was dead-on, except for the fact that the weird phony accent actually made him sexier.

I cracked up. Not because it was funny to me, because I couldn’t take this conversation seriously. How could I? We didn’t talk about these things. Not with each other, anyway. Not sober.

“I can take care of that.” He said that very seriously. So seriously, and with such a sexy voice that my mouth immediately went dry and I started to feel that pressure between the legs.

I scoffed, and pretended to search for something in my handbag. Maybe I’ll find the exact right thing to say in here. “Shut up, Walker.” Nope. Didn’t find it.

“I’m not kidding.”

I looked up at him, with his messy hair and his tanned skin and veiny forearms and brown eyes that were…looking at me in a way that he had never ever looked at me before…and now he was laughing.

“You asshat.”

“Oh my God you should have seen your face. Like having sex with me is literally the worst thing you could think of.”

I would cut off my own foot just to kiss you on the mouth again you idiot how can you not see that.

How could he be like this? Like last night never happened? Like it was no big deal to him at all. I wanted to run to my room and add to my Just Friends journal—the one that I had completely filled over the last year, except I had already written it—but I would write this again on the inside cover in bold red Sharpie: He will never care about having sex with me the way I would care about it because he’s had so much more sex than I have.

I wanted to put on that camisole that I was going to wear the night before, so Ben could see me in it today. So Theo could see that I was wearing it just for Ben. So Theo could see me in it, and…and what? Be overprotective of me again? As a friend?

This was exactly why I needed to move out and be legally single.

A clean slate.

After less than twenty-four hours with Theo back in town, things felt so messy.

I did miss him.

I did miss us.

I missed how things were between us when I had no reason to wonder if we were meant to be more than best friends.

But I was also so tired of it all.

“Well, this has been truly delightful, but I have to go. I’m late for Ben.” I picked up my keys and immediately dropped them, bent down to pick them up and hit my forehead on the countertop. “Ow.”

“Buddy.”

“I’m fine.” And I don’t want a husband who calls me buddy.

“I’m driving you. If you get into an accident I will never forgive myself.” He looked so concerned and earnest.

“If you’re just messing with my head to try to cockblock me and Ben, then that’s just mean, because I need this. I’ve been working so hard to get myself to a place where I’m not…”

“Where you’re not what?”

“Nothing.”

“No, what? Finish that sentence.”

“Can’t. Gotta go. If you want to drive me, put on a shirt and some pants that don’t show the outline of your junk and hurry up.”

He smirked, and I immediately wished I hadn’t mentioned his junk.

“It’s too warm for ski pants. You’ll just have to force yourself to not look at the outline of my junk.”

We didn’t talk while he drove me to Ben’s place. Thank God. I almost fell asleep in the passenger seat. I was glad that he drove me. Things were hazy.

At one point, the car ahead of us stopped suddenly for a kid who was chasing a soccer ball across the street. When Theo hit the brakes, his right arm shot out to keep me from jerking forward and hitting my head on the dashboard.

“Did you just mom-arm me?”

He cleared his throat. “Yes, but in the most masculine way possible.”

His Waze app told him that our destination was on the right. He pulled over. Ben lived in a small apartment building in Silver Lake.

“Nice place,” he said. “You want me to wait until you go up. In case he forgot about your date and went out?”

“It’s not a date. And he texted me this morning. He’s home.”

“Okay then. Say ‘hi’ to my pal Ben for me.”

I glared at him.

“Call me when you need me to pick you up.”

“I’m sure Ben can drop me off.”

“Well, text me to let me know either way. Have fun, kiddo.”

When he reached out to muss up my hair, it was so annoying, part of me wondered if he was actually trying to piss me off again. Part of me didn’t care. I needed to be pissed off at him. And I refused to feel grateful to him for giving me exactly what I needed, as always.

“Wait,” he said, as I opened the door. He grabbed my hand and held onto my fingertips.

“What?”

“What makes you think it’ll be so easy to go back to the way it was before we got married if we get divorced?”

It took exactly two seconds for my eyes to get watery, and a lump to form in my throat.

“Because…It’s us.”

I sniffled and played with his fingers, unable to look at him when I finally got my voice back, I asked: “What makes you think it’ll be so easy for us to stay married?”

He covered my hand with his.

“Because it’s us.”