Leighton’s phone clicks as she snaps a picture of her lunch.

We spent the last few days ironing out the details of our arrangement.

She gets one day of photos with free rein over what we do and how we pose.

I get one night to put her website together.

And one month of her actively seeking out and accepting clients.

“What happened to fries?” She glares at the sautéed kale that comes with her burger. Nudges her iced coffee into place.

“Less disturbing than coffee with a burger.”

“No. This is America. You’re unpatriotic.”

“You wore all black at Walker’s Fourth of July Barbecue.”

“So did you.” She looks to my plate of shrimp curry. “The food. Then you. Then both of us.”

I nod sure.

She arranges the food just so, snaps a picture, turns the camera to me. “Look natural. No. Smile. No. Natural.” Her finger slides over her cell. “Your call.”

I pick up my water, take a sip, stare at the hotel across the street.

It’s modern, expensive, beachfront. The kind of place to spend your wedding night after a ceremony by the pier.

The kind of place Penny and I would have—

Click. “Contemplative Ryan. Classic. I’ll add a caption about how the beautiful weather is making us think about our big day.”

I shake my head.

Not going there.

Not letting Penny infect my thoughts.

Even if this expedition is to… to make my ex feel something.

Leighton is after something specific.

But why? She keeps insisting she should play my girlfriend at this wedding.

There must be a reason.

More than her wanting to help me.

“Ahem.” She clears her throat.

We have a deal. I need to hold up my end of the bargain.

I settle into my chair.

Stab a shrimp with my fork.

Leighton moves around the glass table and takes the seat next to mine.

She rests her head on my shoulder and turns the camera to selfie mode. “What do you see for your wedding?”

Penny.

I still see her. In a flowing gown, holding a bouquet of pink flowers.

Staring into my eyes.

Smiling like she’s so happy she could die.

I blink and it’s gone.

Replaced by the lemon sun bouncing off the glass tables.

The planters of succulents lining the patio.

The bright green umbrellas casting shade over the busy restaurant.

“Ryan?” Leighton’s fingers brush my stomach, pressing my t-shirt into my skin.

“Yeah?”

“I guess that’s a no on the wedding planning.”

I nod.

“You ready to do this?” She motions to her cell.

“Yeah.” I slide my arm around her. Settle into the pose.

Click.

She turns to me. Pushes my hair behind my ear. Laughs as the wind blows it over my eyes.

Click.

“One more.” Her palm plants on my neck. “Like this.”

She leans in.

Brushes her lips against my cheek.

She’s soft.

And she smells like cherry ChapStick.

It fills someplace that’s usually empty.

My eyelids press together.

My heartbeat picks up.

My body screams for more.

But that isn’t happening.

It’s going to have to get over it. “Your lunch is gonna get cold.” I motion to the burger on the other side of the table.

“Oh. Right. This first.” She loads the first pic—the one of her kissing my cheek—to Instagram. Types. He’s the only thing sweeter than dessert. “Too cheesy?”

“You don’t mean it like that.”

Her cheeks flush. “I should add an eggplant emoji.”

“And the water drop emoji.”

“And lips.” She laughs. “Spell it out.”

Fuck, the places my head is going—

Her laugh is rich. Full. She shows off her Facebook. It’s right there. He’s the only thing sweeter than dessert. Lips. Eggplant. Water drops.

An I’m talking about his cum story in three images.

I shake my head.

“You’re no fun.”

“Good.”

She erases the emojis and replaces them with a winky face. “Compromise?”

“Fair.”

“There.” She hits post, sets her cell down, moves back to her seat. “What is this?” She stabs a leaf of kale.

“You suggested this place.”

“Still.”

“You love kale.”

“But with a burger?”

“Someone else tell you to order this burger?”

She laughs as she points at me.

I shake my head you’re ridiculous.

“You think we’ll get a reaction?”

“You gonna edit it with that I love cock story if you don’t?”

“Is that a dare?”

“I know better.”

Her phone buzzes. She grabs it. Stares. “Not her yet.” She chews. Talks with her mouth full. “Okay. This is good.”

I bring a spoonful of curry to my lips. Creamy coconut, ginger, lemon, gangal, crunchy carrots. “Fucking amazing.”

She picks up her knife and cuts her burger in half. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“It’s so… healthy.” She motions to my plate. “Vegetables, shrimp, brown rice.”

“You only pretend to like that orange chicken?”

“No. I…” She twirls a purple strand around her finger. “But don’t you ever want something bad for you?”

“What do you call this—” I motion to her cell.

“You don’t want to do this. I had to talk you into it.”

No. I want it too. There’s a monster in my gut dying to make Penny jealous. To show her how little I need her. How much better off I am without her.

But that’s an ugly impulse.

One I should reject.

“You do want it.” Her eyes light up. “Ryan Maddox. Desperate to make your ex jealous.” She smiles. “You’ve finally come to your senses.”

“I’m thinking about it.”

“Good.” She looks to my plate. “Now, we can work on your lunch.”

“I ordered this ’cause I want it.”

“But what about french fries—”

“It’s a travesty. This place doesn’t serve french fries.”

She laughs. “Ice cream?”

“Sure.”

“Sure? All ice cream rates is ‘sure’?”

I shrug. “It’s not sex. It can only be so good.”

“What about sex?”

I arch a brow. “What about it?”

She takes a bite of her burger. Talks with her mouth full. “Oh my God,” She chews. Swallows. “This is amazing. Not sex. But—” She takes another bite. Offers me what’s left of the half. “You want some?”

I shake my head.

“Your loss.” Two more bites and she’s done. “Have you been with anyone since Penny?”

“No.”

Her eyes go wide. “You’ve gone a year—”

“Fourteen months.”

“Fuck.” She licks aioli from her pointer finger.

“You?”

“It’s been… not fourteen months. But awhile.”

“Why?”

She shakes her head. “We’re not having this conversation.”

“You’ve been single—”

“For two years.”

“There must be a reason.”

She traces the outline of her fork with her thumb. “It’s not one we’re discussing.”

“Yeah, it is.”

She shakes her head.

“You want me to agree?”

“Of course.”

“Then I need to know what the hell you get out of this.”

“Helping you isn’t enough?”

“No.” It needs to be something else. Something that will convince me this won’t fuck shit up.

She stares into my eyes.

I stare back.

“Fine.” She taps her fork against her plate. “You’re incredibly annoying. You know that?”

“Of course.”

She presses her lips together. “There’s someone I want. But he’s not available.”

My shoulders relax.

She’s getting something out of this.

Shit isn’t going to get weird.

This is good.

But there’s another part of me, one that hates the idea of her with this guy who—“You’re the other woman?”

“No. He’s just… You know what. It’s none of your business.”

“And my tragic love life is yours?”

“Well…” She takes a long sip of her coffee. Stares at the glass. “Okay. Yes. I want to do this because of him.”

“To make him jealous?”

“No… to make him see I’m an option.”

“Dean offers to fuck you ten times a day.”

“It’s not Dean.” She takes a long sip of her drink. Lets out a soft moan. “He’s nothing like Dean.”

“Walker?”

“How is Walker nothing like Dean?”

“Brendon?”

“You’re not gonna guess.”

“I know him?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yeah.” I stare into her eyes. “You deserve a guy who will move the stars for you.”

She stares at her plate. Pushes her kale to its rim. “He would. If he was mine. But he’s not.”

“Tell me you’re not as hopeless as I am.”

Her laugh is sad. “Is anyone?”

“True.” I study her expression. Her brow is furrowed. Her eyes are turned down. She’s frustrated. And she’s off somewhere else.

Who the fuck is this idiot who can’t see how amazing she is?

I have to know.

“He, uh…” She takes a long sip of her iced coffee. “He’s the only person for me. I’ve tried to get over him, but I can’t. Is it the same for you?”

“I don’t want her anymore.”

She stares into my eyes. “I’m not sure I believe you.”

Me either.

She lets it slide. “He’s not like Penny. He’s a good guy. He deserves it.”

“How do you know?”

“How do you know you want to do tattoos?”

“That’s a stupid question.”

“Exactly.” She sits back. Brushes a purple strand behind her ears.

“No offense, Leigh, but he sounds like an idiot.”

“Why’s that?”

“He can’t see how amazing you are.”

Her eyes turn down. “He has his reasons.”

“How good could they be?”

Her smile is sad. “Good. But he… it doesn’t really matter. He’s not interested.”

“You sure?”

“A hundred percent.”

“Leigh, you’re hot as fuck.”

“I am?”

“We went over this yesterday.”

“I don’t recall.”

“Look at your tits.”

She makes a show of tilting her head down. “Can’t see them.”

“Here.” I grab my cell, pull up a photo of her from our run. She’s wearing nothing. Shining with sweat. Flushed. Staring at the camera like she’s begging it to make her come.

“They look good in this picture, yes.”

“You’re smart. Funny. Talented.”

“I put up with your bullshit.”

I chuckle. “So how the fuck do you know he’s not interested?”

“I just do.”

I hate this jerk for the way she’s frowning.

This guy doesn’t realize she’s amazing.

He doesn’t deserve her.

But she’s my friend.

I’m gonna help her figure out shit with this idiot.

Even if I want to punch him in his stupid face.