Ugh.

It's too early.

Only bright light is streaming through my window.

Afternoon light.

I roll over. Grab my cell from the bedside table. Check the time.

Super ugh.

Why do I work Saturdays?

I mean, I work pretty much every day. But still. Saturdays are the worst. I can feel how much everyone else is off, enjoying their weekend.

I rise, go through my morning routine, move downstairs, toward the smell of coffee.

Hunter is leaning against the counter, fingers curled around a mug, muscle tank dripping with sweat.

All of him is dripping with sweat.

Fuck, he looks good. Like he's in the middle of a particularly athletic fuck.

My eyes close. For a quick second, I see it. Him stripping out of his gym shorts. Throwing me on the bed. Tearing off my panties. Prying my legs apart.

Promising to split me in half.

It's messy and dirty and hot as hell.

Then his arms are on my wrists and I just…

Half of me is there. In it. Craving Hunter's touch.

The other half…

"Em?" His voice is soft. Curious, not concerned.

I guess it doesn't matter if I'm ready for sex.

Hunter made his feelings clear last night.

He trusts me.

He wants me.

He cares about me.

But we're never going to be more than friends.

"Em?" he asks again, a little louder.

It brings my attention to the room.

The hair sticking to his forehead.

The flush reddening his cheeks.

The ink trailing over his shoulder.

"Where's my coffee?" I try to keep my voice light. Teasing.

Last night was too much.

It means the world to me, him sharing his past.

There's no question.

I'm going to be his friend.

I hate that I only get his friendship.

But it's a hell of a lot better than losing whatever it is that's between us.

"Here." He offers me his mug.

I shake my head. "You make it too sweet."

He chuckles. "Do I?"

"Yeah. Way too sweet."

"The one teaspoon of honey?"

"Disgusting."

"Snob."

"It's your fault, you know."

He moves into the kitchen. Sets his mug on the counter and starts fixing another cup of pour over.

"I can no longer stand the taste of the K-cups."

"They're shit."

"See. You caused this snobbery,"I say.

"Yeah, you never bought five-dollar Americanos before I started crashing here."

"Never."

His eyes flit to me. His lips curl into a smile.

It makes my knees weak.

He's so pretty.

And handsome.

How can one man be both?

Those blue eyes are beautiful.

That chiseled jaw is positively Disney prince.

He's just so fucking hot.

"I occasionally order vanilla lattes," I say.

He shoots me a look of feigned horror. "No."

"Only when I have a sugar craving."

His chuckle fills the room.

"What?"

"Your life is a sugar craving."

"Just because a girl likes to eat chocolate chip pancakes for dinner on occasion—"

"On occasion?"

"During parties."

"Watching Disney movies?"

"If you don't want to eat my chocolate chip pancakes…"

His smile spreads over his cheeks. Lights up his eyes. "Anything but that."

The electric kettle steams. He grabs it. Carefully finishes the pour over. Sets a timer for exactly four minutes.

"You just get home from the gym?" How about we hop in the shower together? Get clean before we get dirty?

He nods.

"Without me?"

"Didn't realize you were in for leg day."

Mmm. Leg day. That's when he does all the shit that gives me a view of his ass. "I am."

"Yeah?"

"I'm gonna… what's it called. That thing." I hinge at my hips to demonstrate the movement.

"Deadlift?"

"Yeah."

His gaze goes straight to my chest.

My boobs are about to pop out of my tank top.

There's victory in getting his attention.

But it's more bitter than sweet.

I can't have that.

Why remind myself?

I clear my throat. "Yeah. I'm gonna deadlift two hundred pounds."

"Now?"

"Don't be ridiculous." I could barely lift the bar last time. "I have to work up to that."

"Uh-huh."

"Yeah." I move into the kitchen. Get close to him. Close enough my hand brushes his. "I can't let you have fun without me."

He turns to me. Stares into my eyes.

He's such a perfect height.

Just a little bit taller than I am.

My head fits into the crook of his neck.

His hands are at my hips.

This is so…

"You think about what I said?" He presses his ass into the counter. Moves away from me.

"Yeah." I force myself to take a step backward. I was dead tired last night, but it still took forever to find sleep. I kept thinking about the hurt in his eyes and the regret in his voice.

He was practically begging me to be his friend.

I want to give him that.

But then…

I still want to slap him for rejecting me. For rejecting us.

I can't blame him. Not really.

But that doesn't make it easier.

"It's a good idea." I play with the hem of my tank top. There's nowhere to put my hands. Every place screams I want you to touch me.

The timer beeps. He pours the coffee into my oversized white mug. Slides it across the counter.

I find the half and half in the fridge. Fix my java.

Mmm. Perfect. "Thanks."

He nods sure thing.

"So… um… Believe it or not, I don't really have guy friends," I say. "Besides the guys at the shop."

"I'm not a guy at the shop?"

"You didn't sign the paperwork yet."

"Still."

"What um… what do we do?"

"You think I know?" Vulnerability streaks his eyes.

This matters to him.

A lot.

He's fresh out of rehab.

His friends are still partying or unwilling to talk to him.

He doesn't have anyone.

"With my friends—" all right, I spend ninety-five percent of my time with Kaylee, but still—"we mostly eat chocolate and talk about hot guys."

"Chocolate, huh?"

"Dark chocolate. Eight-five percent or bust."

"And the pancakes?"

"There's no sugar in pancakes."

He chuckles.

"What?"

"Didn't say anything."

"Is it too many carbs?"

His laugh bounces around the room. "I prefer eating food for dinner."

"Aren't you fancy?"

"Yeah." He picks up his mug. Takes a long sip of his coffee. Let's out a moan of pure satisfaction.

It's so…

Mmm.

My cheeks flush.

My sex clenches.

It's the first time I've heard a guy moan without going there.

It's the first time I've wanted it.

Fuck, I want it so badly.

"I like chocolate," he says.

"And hot guys?"

"Can you do better than Matt Murdoch?"

"Hot guys does not mean comic book stuff."

"Is he hot or not?"

"Not the point."

"But is he?"

"Well, I mean…"

"You love his brooding ass."

I say nothing.

"Admit it."

I feign indifference.

"You complain about the lack of nudity every episode."

"That's just being sensible."

"Admit it, Em."

"I admit nothing."

"He's a certified hottie."

"He is…"

Hunter's eyes find mine. He raises a brow.

I fight my blush. "He is… attractive."

"We're making progress here."

"It doesn't mean comic books."

"It's Disney."

Technically true.

"If you'd rather not watch three more episodes tonight…"

"I'll think about it."

His smile is smug. It's I know you'll be there.

He's right.

I hate that he's right.

But he really, really is.

After he showers and I dress, we walk to work together.

It's a busy day—Saturdays always are—but I'm still flush with free time. I alternate between watching him work and studying.

I'm about to crash from lack of coffee when Dean slides up to the counter.

His eyes flit between me and Hunter. "He make that shit up to you yet?"

I play dumb. "What shit?"

"Whatever got you storming out of the office." Dean leans in to whisper. "Don't tell me he came early and failed to finish the job."

"If that happened, do you really think I'd tell you?"

His smile is wide. Knowing. "I could help you out."

"By cheating on your girlfriend?"

"Em, you think so little of me."

No, actually. Dean would do a lot of shit, but he'd never do that. He's smitten. Still, I make a point of rolling my eyes.

"Just gonna give you some tips."

"Just the tip? Hmm, when have I heard that before?"

"Guys are still using that line?"

"No. But you trod it out every other week."

"This about the amateur porn?" His expression gets dead serious. "Or the Prince Albert?"

A laugh spills from my lips. Then another.

I press my arm against my stomach to hold back my giggle fit, but it doesn't happen. Dean is just…

He's so fucking ridiculous.

"If I have to hear another word about your cock, I'm gonna riot," Walker calls from his suite.

Chloe looks to Dean—she's sitting in his suite, on his teal chair, perfecting a sketch.

Her smile is smaller, but it's as wicked as his.

It's incredibly yes, let's talk about your cock somewhere more private. And by talk, I mean fuck hard and fast.

My stomach pangs with jealousy.

I don't want Dean.

But I do want that.

It's hard having a couple working here. They're just so… adorable and dirty in equal measures.

Despite her short black hair, heavy eyeliner (which looks so amazing with her almond eyes. She's half-Korean, half-Italian, all badass), tattoos, and combat boots, she projects innocence.

But Dean is dirty as all hell.

I'm sure he's corrupted her.

Fucked her every way a person can be fucked.

Hunter is just as dirty.

But he's unwilling to share it with me.

He's adamant about this whole we're only friends thing.

"Shit, Em, what were we talking about?" he asks.

"How quickly guys come." I make my voice loud. So everyone can hear. Okay, so Hunter can hear.

It works.

Hunter looks up from his client—a burly guy getting something on his calf—and raises a brow.

His client whispers something.

Hunter whispers back. Laughs. "Even Jed knows you're a two pump, chump, Dean."

Dean jumps—actually jumps—onto the counter.

I push my books aside. "Step on my textbook and you die."

"You gonna sic your boy on me?" Dean asks.

"Maybe." I look to Hunter. "Would you kill Dean if I asked?"

"Think I'd have to get in line." His lips curl into a half-smile. "But yeah."

My chest warms. Dean called Hunter my boy. Hunter didn't correct him.

It doesn't mean anything, but it feels good all the same.

"We're gonna have to wrestle for that one," Walker says.

Chloe jumps in. "He's dying by my hand or not at all."

Dean blows her a kiss. "Sunshine, I can't think of a better way to die."

She blushes.

"And fuck knows none of you can take Chloe," Dean says.

Walker nods.

Hunter too.

She is a total badass. She reconnected with Ryan at their Aikido dojo. There are a lot of rumors about whether or not she kicked Ryan's ass (Ryan plays along, says she did, but she admits she's never come close. Either way, she's masterful. I've seen her throw Dean over her shoulder. Multiple times. He's way into it. Or maybe just into her touching him).

Dean leans in to whisper. "Is he treating you well?"

"We're just friends," I say.

Dean nods uh-huh. "That hurts, Em, that you think I'd narc to Brendon."

"Or maybe that you can't keep your voice down?"

"Maybe." He laughs. "But mostly the thing I said."

"Really." I press my lips together. "I'm not as enlightened as you. Can't work with someone I'm fucking."

He gives me that same uh-huh nod. "It's 'cause he's not packing enough heat, isn't it?"

"Why are you so obsessed with dicks?"

"Like you aren't thinking about it right now."

Uh… No comment.

He smirks. "That's what I thought."

"You think he'll be happy here?"

"I think he'll be happy in your bed."

"Seriously."

"I'm dead serious."

He is.

And he's right.

I want to honor Hunter's promise.

I want to respect his wishes.

But sometimes being a friend means showing someone they're wrong.

Hunter and I both need more.

We need to be together.

I just have to make him see that.