I take a deeper breath, realizing for the first time that Libby smells good. Not simply good as in clean and inoffensive to the nostrils, but good as in I would like to know what she smells like after she hasn’t showered in a while. I would like to smell the curve of her neck after she’s fresh off a run, to pull her sports bra up and over her head and let my tongue explore the sweat-damp valley between those incredible, way-more-than-a-handful—

“I need a drink.” I cut the thought off before it—or the erection swelling behind the zipper of my jeans—can fully form. I refuse to think those kinds of thoughts about Libby. It’s so wrong that wrong isn’t a strong enough word for it.

I’m trying to think of a better word, something appropriate for things forbidden, disturbing, and a little embarrassing, when Libby puts a hand on my arm again, curling her fingers into the cotton of my dress shirt.

“Can we talk about the private stuff first?” Uncertainty creeps back into her gaze. “I’m afraid if I wait, I’ll lose my nerve and never say what I came over here to say.”

I swallow hard, fighting the urge to bolt. “What did you come over to say?”

“I have a favor to ask.” Her teeth worry her bottom lip in a way that makes the newly aware of Libby part of me wonder what her mouth tastes like.

Fuck. I have to get away from her and get my head on straight before I do something stupid like try to kiss her and ruin one of the best friendships I’ve ever had.

I’ve never even thought about dating either of the Collins sisters, no matter how nice they are to look at. They are my friends, so close we’re almost family. I’m the guy who glares at their boyfriends at the annual holiday party our parents throw together and who makes veiled threats about pounding faces if those douches even think about hurting Libby or La. I’m the big-brother type, not the guy trying to scam his way into Libby’s pants. Or down her shirt. Or daydreaming about slipping my tongue between her lips while I cup her breasts in my hands and—

“A kind of strange favor,” Libby continues, derailing the smut train in my mind just in time. Thank God. “But the fact that you and Sylvia broke up makes it a little less strange, I guess.” She laughs nervously. “I mean, not that I was ever going to ask you to do something that would get you in trouble with your girlfriend. I’m desperate, but I’m not crazy. Well, maybe a little crazy, but—”

“Just spit it out, Libs.” Sweat breaks out beneath my shirt as I fight not to think about lips or breasts or giving Libby anything but a firm, friendly hug.

“Okay, fine.” She pulls in a breath and lets it out in a rush. “I need you to teach me about sex.”

My eyebrows shoot up and I’m pretty sure I would have spit out my drink if Laura hadn’t stolen it. “What?” I sputter, even though I heard her perfectly well. But hearing and believing are two entirely different things.

“Sex,” she repeats, her cheeks going pink. “And flirting and being sexy and not saying stupid things on the first date or the second date or the third date. All that kind of stuff. The stuff I’m clearly really bad at.”

“Um, I—” I break off with a choked sound. “I’m sorry, Libs, but—”

“I’m going to be twenty-five in three months, Jus,” she cuts in, a pleading note in her voice. “And I’m still shy and weird and completely hopeless with men. If something doesn’t change, I’m going to spend the rest of my life alone, crocheting bonnets for my cats and wondering what it’s like to have a real relationship.”

“You don’t even have cats,” I say, because I don’t know what to say to the rest of it. I know Libby doesn’t date much, but I had no idea she was so upset about it.

“I will by then. I’ll have so many cats I’ll barely be able to walk from my couch to the bathroom without stepping on one. And when I die of old age, the poor things will run out of cat food and end up eating my corpse.”

“Well, there are worse ways to go,” I joke. “I hope to go of old age myself, and once you’re dead you probably won’t mind—”

“Justin, please!” Her brow furrows and desperation creeps into her eyes. “Please be serious. I’m being serious. I need help and you’re the only person I can ask.”

“What about Laura?” I shove my hands into my pockets, wishing I’d run for it while I still had the chance. Before things got well and truly weird. “She’s good at flirting. I’m not sure about sex, because she’s my friend and thinking about her having sex is almost as gross as thinking about you having sex, but I’m—”

“Thanks a lot,” Libby interrupts, her bottom lip trembling as she reclaims her drink with a swift snatching motion that sends the liquid sloshing out of the glass. “It’s nice to know the thought of me in an intimate relationship with someone is that repulsive.”

“I didn’t mean it that way, Libs. I just meant—”

“It doesn’t matter.” She downs the rest of her martini in one gulp before setting it back on the table with a hard clink. “I never should have asked you for help. This was a mistake.”

“Come on, Libs, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” I reach for her, but she steps away, lifting a hand between us.

“Don’t. I can’t deal with a pity hug right now.” Her lips press together as she blinks hard. “Let’s just pretend this never happened, okay? I’ll find someone else to help me. Or I won’t. It doesn’t really matter, right? I mean, what’s another spinster kindergarten teacher eaten by cats?”

“Libby, wait,” I call after her as she turns and walks away, tottering in her too-high-and-stabby-looking-for-Libby-to-be-wearing heels.

But she doesn’t turn back, and now I feel even more like shit than I did before. Watching Libby storm away from me is much, much harder than watching Sylvia do the same. So hard, in fact, that I can’t let it happen. I follow her, weaving my way through the crowd. But when I get to the other side of the dance floor, she’s nowhere to be found.

And damn it, I feel like something’s been lost. Something necessary and special that maybe I’ve taken for granted.

Right then, I make a promise to myself to find Libby and do my best to help her out, no matter how uncomfortable it might be at first. Friends don’t let friends get eaten by cats, and Libby’s been my friend for too long for me to say no when she needs me to say yes.

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