On the elevator ride up to the office all I can think is that I’m an idiot. I should go home, shower, and get over to Aria’s before she attempts to eat the entire calzone herself just to prove me wrong. But I can’t. Oliver is still in the office, and I need to have a word with him without Aria around.

The second the elevator reaches the office floor, I’m off it and heading for Oliver’s office, but I hear Monohan’s voice floating under his closed door. I move in that direction instead and press my ear to the door.

“Yes, I know, Marjorie, but if you want me to do what’s best for this paper, then that’s hiring Aria. Oliver is a fantastic news reporter. One of the best on staff. I can’t see him handling features. He tends to turn his nose up at them.”

David, one of the staff writers, sees me, and I press my finger to my lips. He smirks and keeps walking toward the elevator.

“I’ll figure it out. Yes, I’m well aware of the money you put into this paper. Good-bye, Marjorie.” He groans loudly.

Even though he’s likely in a foul mood, I have to do this now before he makes up his mind about the position. I knock on the door.

“What is it?” Monohan barks.

I open the door, and when he sees me, his face softens.

“Dixon, what are you still doing here? Don’t tell me you’re trying to get ads at this time of night.”

“No. I actually secured the ads we need for the next few weeks just this afternoon.”

“Finally, some good news.” He blows out a puff of air. “All right then, what can I do for you?”

I close the door behind me and move toward his desk so I can keep my voice low enough that no one can eavesdrop the way I did a few minutes ago. “I want to talk to you about Aria.”

He leans back in his chair and crosses one leg over the other. “Look, Dixon, I’m taking enough grief about this position. I don’t need it from you, too. I know you’ve got a thing for Aria.”

“That’s not what this is, sir. Aria and I are friends, yes, but she’s right for this job.”

He tilts his head at the word “friends.” “And how do you propose I go about making it up to the woman who pays this paper’s expenses? Who pays all our salaries?”

“Give Oliver a different promotion.”

He laughs and holds his hands out. “And where would this promotion come from? I have no other positions to fill.”

I look at his cluttered desk. The man is overworked and stressed. “Why haven’t you hired a managing editor?”

His eyes widen, and he leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “What, you want me to make Aria managing editor now? That’s quite the jump from staff writer. Besides, you step up and act like managing editor all the time, and I don’t even have to pay you for it.”

It’s supposed to be a joke—even though it’s true—but I’m not laughing. If he’s not happy about Aria making that jump, then he’ll never go for letting Oliver do it either.

“I’m just saying things aren’t as evenly distributed as they could be. I’m sure there’s a way to make it so everyone wins. Even you. It’s almost seven thirty and you’re still here instead of at home with your family.”

His gaze meets mine. “Playing the family card now. Tell me something. When are you going to man up and tell Aria how you feel?”

Coming from my boss, the question is almost too much to take. I’ve tried really hard to not let my feelings be this apparent. “We’re just friends, sir. I’ve known her for almost half my life.”

“The question is: How long have you been in love with her?” He stands up. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do. Really. But I know Aria, and I’m sure she’d have some choice words for you if she ever found out this conversation took place. So why don’t you go home and worry about your problems and I’ll take care of mine, okay?” He motions to the door.

I don’t try to plead Aria’s case any more. He’s obviously going to do whatever his cousin tells him to.

“And Dixon,” Monohan says when we reach the office door.

I turn to face him.

“If I get wind that you threatened Oliver in any way, I’ll be forced to let you and Aria go. Do you understand? I might be editor-in chief, but we both know who runs this paper.”

Marjorie Strauss.

I nod and say good night. I catch a glimpse of Oliver coming out of his office, but I keep walking, deciding to take the stairs to avoid having to share an elevator with the man. I’m not sure I’d be able to keep my mouth shut on the ride to the parking garage.

There’s no time to shower before heading to Aria’s, so I go straight there, which gets me a look when I arrive in the same clothes.

She cocks her head as I walk into her apartment. “Run out of hot water or something?”

It’s a harmless enough lie. “Something like that. Hot water heater must be acting up, so I came as is.”

Aria’s showered and wearing pajama shorts with a white tank top. It doesn’t take a scientist to figure out she’s not wearing a bra. I swear she either has no romantic interest in me or she’s really pushing to see what my limits are.

“New pajamas?” I ask.

“Yeah, they’re really soft, too.”

Dear God, don’t let her offer to have me feel them. I can’t take much more of this. “Nice.” I unbutton my dress shirt and remove it so I’m only in my white T-shirt.

“Are you leaving your dress pants on?” she asks, cutting me off a piece of calzone, which is already on the coffee table and half-eaten.

“Why would I take them off?” I look around, wondering if there are hidden cameras somewhere. This has to be a prank.

“Um, I’ve seen you in boxers before. How often did you crash on my dorm room floor?” She shakes her head.

She’s right. I’m reading too much into everything. “I’m fine. These pants are actually pretty comfortable.”

“Suit yourself.” She pushes the plate toward me and then does the same with the small container of marinara. “Did you call your landlord about the hot water heater? Is that what took so long?”

“Yeah.” I take a bite, wanting to end this conversation. I hate lying to her. “This is good. Oh, and you owe me twenty dollars.”

She leans back on the other end of the couch, putting her feet up so they’re resting against my leg. “Fine. A bet is a bet. I’ll pay for dinner on Saturday. That is, if you called for reservations.”

“Not yet, but I will tomorrow.”

She twirls a lock of blond hair around her finger. “Why don’t you have a date? I haven’t seen you with anyone for a few weeks.”

I shrug like it’s no big deal. “No one I’m interested in dating, I guess.”

She wiggles her toes against my leg. “It’s just weird because you were dating like crazy up until then.”

That’s because I was trying to get the image of her and Aaron out of my head. “Maybe I overdid it. I’m done with the bar scene.”

“What about that new staff writer at work?” She sits up straighter and pulls her legs in to rest her chin on her knees. “What’s her name?”

“Emily.”

“Yeah, her. She’s cute.”

“She’s twenty-two.”

She jerks her head back. “And you’re twenty-six. What’s the problem?”

I take another bite to avoid answering.

“Did I miss you getting your heart broken? Is that it?” She moves closer, placing her hand on my leg. “Nate, I know I was wrapped up in my own life with the breakup and then the promotion. If I missed something along the way, I’m sorry. And if you need to talk, I’m here now.”

How exactly do I talk to her about the girl who is breaking my heart when it’s her? I do the only thing I can think of. The closest I can come to telling the truth.

“There is someone, but it’s not going to work right now. She’s hung up on someone else. A real dick if you ask me.”

She nestles in, ready to offer support the way only she can. “When did you meet her?”

“A while ago. Please don’t ask who she is. I’d rather not say right now.”

She nods. “Okay. I get it. So is she seeing another guy?”

“Not anymore. She was, though, and I don’t think she’s completely over him.”

“So you’re keeping your distance.”

Only if that distance is the two inches of space between us on this couch. “I’m afraid if I tell her how I feel, I’ll lose her for good.”

She loops her arm through mine and rests her head on my shoulder. “Oh, Nate. I’m so sorry.”

“Me too,” I say, leaning my head down so it rests on hers. Her coconut shampoo fills my senses, rivaled only by the Dove body wash she uses. Being this close to her is damn near killing me. I shift my position, hoping to cover my arousal.

“Sorry, am I making you uncomfortable?” she asks, sitting up and releasing my arm. “I couldn’t help noticing the way you’ve pulled away recently when I hug you or touch your arm. Is any form of intimacy making you think of her?”

“Yes.” Completely true.

She studies me closely. “Nate, are you in love with her?”

“Yes,” I answer. Completely true again.