Ty: Where are you?

Ty: Call me.

I set my phone on my desk and stare into the mirror. I don't like the timid, uncertain person I see.

Fleur's right. I can't avoid Ty forever. The whole point of brushing all these inconvenient feelings under a rug is so our idyllic friendship can continue, but if I ignore Ty, then what's the point?

I find my spine, pick up the phone, and text him back.

Me: Home. Hungry?

Ty: I could eat. I'll bring something over.

A public place means that I'm less likely to do stupid things.

Me: Or we could meet at the Row House.

Ty: I’ll bring something over.

I get the sense that I could suggest a dozen other places and the response would remain the same. I wonder how he convinced Rhyann to meet with him at the Row House. She probably wasn't as stubborn as he is. And, apparently, I'm not either because I give in.

Me: Ok. I'll order something for you.

He doesn't bother to respond. I go to the kitchen and pull out a couple menus.

My roommate hops up from the sofa to peer over my shoulder. “Are we ordering in?”

“Ty's coming over,” I reply glumly.

She tsks. “The end of the world is not happening.”

“You sure about that?” It feels like the end of something. “This has all the makings of a disaster. Like Sharknado except with no sharks, just pieces of Ara flying around in a big cyclonic cloud.”

“If it doesn't work out because Ty turns out to be an ass, you'll always have me.”

“Are you saying you'll leave Leon for me?”

She taps a finger against her chin, pretending to consider it. “We can have a poly relationship. Leon would probably love that.”

“It's nice to have a backup plan.”

“I'm going to go over to his place to explain this new situation.” She slings her purse over her shoulder.

I grab the strap and pull her back. “Right now? What's the rush?”

“Well, if there is a Sharknado, I don't want to get hit by the debris.” With that, she tugs out of my grip and slips out the door.

Traitor.

I pick up the phone and call in my order.

“Chicken breast. Plain. Cooked with chicken broth, if possible. With a side of steamed veggies. For me, I'll take a bacon cheeseburger with extra fries. And a milkshake.” I tack on the drink for good measure. Who knows what kind of medicating I'll need to do after this talk.

“You should skip the first order and just serve the cardboard that the hamburger comes in,” snarks the order taker.

I ignore him. “There's a buzzer on the door. Apartment four-one-three.”

“Got it. Be around fifteen minutes.”

I thank the guy, get my cash out, and then sit down to wait. A minute later, I stand. After a few seconds, I start pacing. As each second ticks by, my nerves become increasingly frayed. The firm knock on the door makes me jump two feet straight into the air.

“Who is it?” My heart beats loudly. The delivery guy is supposed to call from the entry.

“Ty,” he announces.

I'm not ready. Too bad I already revealed I'm home or I could go into the bedroom and hide again. Slowly, I force my feet toward the door.

He knocks again.

“I’m coming,” I say. Irritated, I whip it open. “I heard you the first time.”

His arched eyebrow speaks volumes. He pushes inside and takes a quick look around. “Where's Fleur?”

“Leon's.”

He nods. “Good. Come on then.” He motions for me to step away from the door.

I cling to the handle. “I don't want to.”

“I know you don't, otherwise you wouldn't have kept your mouth shut for the last three weeks, but we're going to have this out anyway.”

“What if I don't want to?”

He places his hands on his hips.

It's inappropriate, but I can't help noticing how perfect his frame is. His proportions are amazing. The leg to torso ratio is flawless. He has the ideal inverted triangle from his shoulders to his waist. His good looks make me angry and hungry at the same time. Hangry.

“Ara.”

“Sorry.” I shut the door and go into the kitchen, where I busy myself with the glasses and plates. “Do you want water or milk? I ordered a milkshake, but I know you're on a diet. I think I have skim milk if that's what you want. I guess water's the best, right? I ordered you a chicken breast—”

“Ara,” he says.

I stop midpour. “You want something else?”

“Yes, for you to stop being so nervous.” He pulls the glass out of my hand and sets it on the counter. “Come over here and sit down.” He leads me over to the sofa and sits next to me.

We've sat on this sofa together a million times, but it's never felt this small. I fidget, trying to figure out the best way to explain my silence and still keep our relationship on the same, even course it was before.

“Why are you so nervous?” He hasn't let go of my hand. In fact, he's tracing small circles on the back of it, and I can feel the tingles he's creating all the way up to my arm.

I jerk out of his grip. “Why are you randomly touching me?” I accuse, hiding my hands away underneath my armpits.

“We're friends, Ara. Friends touch each other.” There's a trace of humor in his voice and I swear he moves closer.

I slide away. “Yes, we are friends.” I emphasize the F word. “Which is why I don't know why we're even having this talk.”

“What kind of talk is this?”

“How's Kathleen?” I try desperately to buy some time.

“Ara.”

The way he says my name—softly and without a hint of irritation—makes me feel small and foolish.

I clear my throat. He waits. I clear it again. My throat feels scratchy when I start to explain. “You're a very important person in my life. Other than my dad, you know me the best. Your friendship means the world to me. I don't want that to change.”

“And?”

“And…” I scratch my bare toe against the carpet. “And that's why I think we should just forget what happened. It's why I tried to forget what happened.”

“What if I don't want to forget? What then?”

Because I'm too much of a coward to look him in the eye, I stare at his hands. I break out in a light sweat thinking about how his fingers counted every ridge on my spine, how his palms smoothed a path up my legs, how he spread my thighs to make room for his hard, heavy body.

Ugh. I have to stop thinking that way. Angry with myself, I blurt out, “We got drunk and then horny and because we were the only two people in the room, we took our horniness out on each other. End of story.”

“So you're saying every time you're drunk and horny, you're making out with someone? Because I've been drunk and horny around my teammates plenty of times and have successfully avoided climbing into bed with any of them.”

I throw up my hands. “What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to be honest.” The softness is turning hard and grim.

“Where's your honesty?” I shoot back. “Why do I feel like I'm the one on trial here? I wasn't the only one in that bed.”

He reaches out and grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him.

“I thought I'd give you the chance to address it first, but fine, my honesty is that the night at the Hyatt is one of the hottest experiences I've ever had.”

I stare at him in shock. “You didn't even remember it until last night.”

“No, I remembered it.” His beautiful lips press into a flat line. “I thought I'd dreamt it, because you don't like me that way, remember? You've always said we were the best of friends, so yeah, I'd have flashes of what we did, get hard, and tell myself to shut up about it because we were friends and you didn't want that. But now that I've figured out it wasn't a dream and that it all happened, I don't think I can go back.”

I slap a hand over his mouth. “Don't say anything more. Just don't,” I plead. “I want you in my life as my friend, Ty. That's always been the case. Girlfriends and boyfriends come and go, but we can be friends forever. That's better than anything. If you say what I think you're going to say, you'll break the friendship seal. Can't we just forget about what happened? Pretend it didn't happen and go forward?”

Above my fingers, his eyes glint dangerously at me. I drop my hand and move to the very end of the sofa.

He's quiet for a moment and then, “Is that what you really want?”

It hurts to nod, but I do. A light flickers out in his eyes and guilt and sadness wash over me in a wave.

To my surprise, Ty gets to his feet. His lips curl into an awkward smile. “If that's what you want, then that's what we'll do. Just like our freshman year. I'll see you around.”

Those words sound so final. He walks out without a glance behind him, but he doesn't slam the door. He opens it and quietly slips out. I think if he'd had shown some emotion—some anger or frustration—I might have run after him.

But the total lack of emotion tells me that I was right. We should push that night at the Hyatt into the very back of our memory bank and never take it out again.

Being right doesn't stop the tears from forming, though. I blink rapidly to keep them from spilling over.

Then the door flies open, crashing against the wall with a bang. Ty appears in the open doorway. In two strides, he's at the sofa and in another move, he has me in his arms. His mouth latches onto mine. Big hands slide under my ass and position me directly over his very, very hard shaft. I can't prevent a moan from escaping.

“Fuck the friendship seal,” he growls.