The shirt strangled my biceps, which was both gratifying and irritating.

“How’s it looking in there?” Elias’s voice floated through the changing room door.

“Shitty.”

“Oh.”

“Sir?” The store clerk hovered outside the door. “Could I take a look and see what the problem is?”

“Sure.” I swung open the door.

The clerk peeked inside and frowned. “I see. But, good news is, I have just the thing. Two seconds.” He disappeared.

Elias walked in and plopped on the dressing bench. “What’s wrong with the shirt?”

“If I were the sort of douche who flexed my guns to impress the ladies every chance I got, I’d bust right through the fabric.”

He rolled his eyes. “What a terrible problem to have.”

I stripped the shirt off. “How many times have I asked you to go to the gym with me?”

“Meh.” He patted his stomach. “Nothing feels as good as dessert tastes.”

I laughed. “I think you mean ‘nothing tastes as good as skinny feels.’”

He scoffed. “That is skinny-ist propaganda.”

“Sure.”

The clerk returned with another shirt in a similar navy shade as the one I’d just tried on. “This one has more room in the areas where you need it.”

I took it and slipped it on.

“That’s looking nice, man.” Elias nodded as I buttoned it up. “Scarlet will drop the panties in no time.”

“How many times do I have to remind you this is a business relationship?” I shook my head and peered at the shirt in the mirror.

“Sure. But I saw how you two were vibing at the gallery.” He tapped the side of his nose. “I’m onto you.”

“You’re delusional.” I’d spent the last two nights telling myself that Scarlet was solely a business partner, nothing more. My dick hadn’t agreed and seemed to be on a mission to turn me into a teenage boy. But all that was beside the point. I wouldn’t let my hard-on for the mysterious Scarlet rule me. This was to sell books, to become the go-to name in relationship and sex advice. A voice that cut through all the noise and helped people find lasting happiness. Scarlet Rocket. Me.

“Is this irony?” He scratched his head. “You’re the smart one, so tell me; is it irony that you dish out relationship advice, but you can’t even admit when you’re jonesing for a girl?”

“If it were true, then yes, it would be ironic.” I shrugged out of the shirt and handed it to the clerk. “Just give me five of those in different colors.”

“Will do.” He hurried away as I pulled my Avengers t-shirt over my head.

“So now you have big boy pants, shirts, shoes, and jackets.” Elias wiped a fake tear. “All grown up.”

“Remind me, why are we friends again?” I strode out of the dressing room.

“My sparkling personality and classic good looks?” He followed me to the register.

I grunted and handed over my credit card.

“You are even grumpier than usual.” He leaned on the counter beside me. “That little Scarlet Rocket has gotten under your skin something terrible.”

“Scarlet Rocket?” The clerk glanced up from running my credit card.

“Yeah.” Elias grinned. “Have you heard of her?”

The clerk handed my card back. “Of course! Do you know her? Is she as amazing in person as she is on her blog?”

“Even more so.” Elias just couldn’t help himself.

“I knew it. Six months ago, my girlfriend wrote to her about”—he glanced around the small men’s store to make sure no one was listening—“her overactive gag reflex.”

I remembered that question. Screen name: GaggingGracie.

Elias elbowed me. “Scarlet helped you out?”

“Very much so.” The clerk smiled and finished bagging my clothes. “Her advice on practice was the key. Now…well let’s just say that I’m a very happy man. Satisfied.” He snagged the receipt. “So, what’s she look like?”

“Willis knows her better than I do. How would you describe her, Willis?”

I glared at Elias. “She’s a woman.”

“Oh, come on.” The clerk leaned over the counter. “Just a few details.”

“She’s a redhead.” I closed my eyes and imagined her devious smile. “And she’s full of mischief.”

“I knew it.” The clerk drummed his knuckles on the counter. “She’s hot.”

I swiped my bags off the counter and hurried toward the door.

“Hey, wait up.” Elias dogged my heels. “Rude boy.”

Bursting out into the cloudy Manhattan day, I took a deep breath. When the clerk had referred to Scarlet as “hot,” something had come over me. The need to put him in his place. Besides, I was the one who gave GaggingGracie the advice on practicing by pressing bananas against the back of her throat, not Scarlet. Was I jealous of myself? Jeez. I was through the looking glass.

“She’s making me crazy.” A desperate laugh gurgled up from my lungs. “And I only just met her.”

Elias clapped me on the shoulder. “This is good for you. Getting out of your apartment, walking around in the real world, interacting with actual people instead of online, and crushing on a hot little number like Scarlet.”

“I’m not crushing on her.”

He adopted a faux serious expression. “Right. Just business. I forgot. My bad.”

“You’re worse than a meddling aunt in a Victorian novel.”

“You lost me there.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Want to grab some lunch?”

“Can’t. Linda set up a photo shoot of Scarlet over in Greenwich. She wants me to be there to make sure it all fits my brand.” I would have done air quotes around “brand” but my hands were full.

“Nudes?”

At the thought of Scarlet lying on a divan and telling me to “draw me like one of your French girls,” my cock twitched. At this rate, I was regressing to my thirteen-year-old self with a Victoria’s Secret stash and a penchant for vacuuming alone in my room.

“Hahaha!” He punched my shoulder. “Look at that face. Now you’re picking up what I’m putting down, baking what I’m shaking, painting what I’m priming, bagging what I’m scanning, snacking what I’m packing, sniffing what I’m—”

“Please stop.” I held my bag-laden hand up.

He nodded. “Well, you get the idea.”

“Shouldn’t you be getting back to work?” I stared down the street, on the lookout for a taxi.

“Yeah, the SquickyLube waits for no man. They’re working on the prototypes right now. We’re going to have some meetings with lube manufacturers next week, then pick one to be the initial provider on the new models.”

“Sounds like you’re really greasing the wheels of progress over at Jizzlywinks.”

He winked. “I’m an up and comer.”

I groaned. “This conversation really needs to be over.”

“No problem. I need to brainstorm over my next design idea. I already have a name for it. Just don’t know the specifics yet.” He elbowed me as I hailed a cab. “Want to know the name?”

Might as well. “Sure. Hit me.”

“The Shitake Shocker.” He splayed his hands out in front of him as if these words appeared on a billboard across the street, complete with fireworks and neon.

“That verges on terrifying.” I smiled. I couldn’t help it. Elias could make a sad mime laugh out loud.

“But just think how nice it’ll look in ads on Scarlet Rocket. Got a nice thick mushroom head on one end, and on the other—”

“All right, gotta go.” I opened the cab door.

“Have fun at the photo shoot. Send beaver shots.”

I flipped him off and closed the door right as he added his signature “fuck you.” He waved me away as the car took off, and I gave the driver my instructions. I needed to wipe the image of the Shitake Shocker from my mind, so I tried to focus on what I would post to the blog about my upcoming events. Anything to drum up press would help get the word out on the day my book released. But the more I thought about the parties, the more I wondered about what Scarlet would wear. Something that showed off her curves, her legs, her dainty ankles? Did you just think the words “dainty ankles”?

“She’s a thief. A con artist. Don’t get involved any more than you have to,” I reminded myself as the cabbie gave me a glance in the rearview mirror.

He grinned, his two front teeth missing. “Women, right?”

The universal experience of having no fucking clue what to do when faced with a determined, intelligent, and sexy woman seemed to transcend even the not-insignificant social distance created between a cabbie and his fare.

“Women.” I nodded. “Right.”

My conflicting feelings begged the question: How fucked was I?

We pulled up out front of a four-story building, and I just caught the shimmer of Scarlet’s red hair cascading over her shoulder as she pushed through the front door. My chest constricted, and I momentarily forgot that I actually needed to pay for the cab ride.

Answer: Completely fucked.