"This is a bad idea, Amanda. It's dangerous." Scott runs a hand through his dark curls and paces the living room of his apartment.

I scoff and shake my head in frustration, glaring at him from my seat on his couch. He has no leg to stand on here, which I’ve already reminded him of a hundred times. At least. "I'll be fine. People hook up with strangers from bars all the time."

He stops in the middle of the floor, and throws his hands up in the air. "Yeah, and they get raped or killed all the time too. And you won't know his name or anything about him, so the cops will have nothing to go on."

I roll my eyes so hard I'm a little surprised they don't roll from my head and plop on his coffee table. "That isn't exactly the norm, Scott. That's the most far-fetched worst case scenario ever. And I have pepper spray."

"You're being stubborn and reckless." His voice is accusing and his eyes are the color of frost.

I expect my eyes to shoot fire at his stupid face. "This entire adventure is reckless. But I'm enjoying myself. For once in my life I'm free. I'm not going to give that up."

He resumes his pacing, glaring at the floor like it personally offended him. "I'm not saying you should give it up. Just consider changing this one."

I shake my head. "No. I'm excited about this, it's exhilarating."

"But what if you forget your keys there? What if the condom breaks and you end up needing to contact him?"

Irritation morphs into true anger. "Dude, you are being a jackass. Sure, these things happen, but not as often as the media wants us to believe. I'll feel him out at the bar and if he feels sketchy, I'll postpone or choose someone else. If he's a dick, I'll have no interest. And I won't forget my keys and I'm on the pill."

He turns eyes now pleading on me, stepping over to stand at my side. "Look, at least let me come with you. I won't cramp your style, I'll just be there for backup."

I jump to my feet and whirl on him, hands on my hips. "Scott, come on. You've been super supportive through this whole thing, why are you acting like this?" The fleeting idea of kissing him until he shuts the fuck up flickers through my mind. Maybe we could work out our frustrations with each other on each other. I keep hearing makeup sex is the best kind. And so is angry sex.

I shiver and push the thoughts away. We may be closer now, but we aren't a couple. The lines have already been blurred enough.

He runs his hand through his hair again. "I'm reacting like this because the others on the list don't have to be complete strangers. And people you know, even peripherally, wouldn't chance pulling something like that."

I almost spit my words, furious he's trying to ruin this for me. To scare me. "Sure they would. The majority of rapes happen by someone you know. But I'm planning on giving it up, so it's not like there's a need for that." I blow out a huge sigh. "Look, just because our friendship has been a bit on the sexual side lately doesn't mean you can act like a possessive boyfriend."

His glare freezes me in place and he steps close to me, looming over my much shorter frame. "If I were a possessive boyfriend, I wouldn't be okay sharing you. Especially with some stranger. No one would touch you but me. You wouldn't be fucking anyone but me." His last words are a growl that reaches deep inside me, making my belly clench.

I hate how every time he gets super near me, my body responds so quickly. My nipples pebble and even though I'm furious, my treacherous body doesn't care. I never should have slept with him. No matter how mind-blowing and perfect it had been.

I can't take my eyes off his eyes. They swirl with fury and pain. My chest tightens. I don't want to hurt him. I don't want to worry him. But I want to do this. I'm going to do this. He doesn't get to control me. No one will ever control me like that again.

I clear the cobwebs and shivers from my throat. "I just got out of a shitty fucking relationship where my wants or needs didn't matter. Where my feelings didn't matter. Where he tried to mold me into something I'm not and I let him. For the first time in my life, I'm free. To do crazy things, fun things, and yes, even dangerous things. And you have to let me. Because you are my best friend and I don't want to lose you. But I won't mold myself for you."

He splutters and growls. "I don't expect you to mold yourself into something for me. But I'm also not going to keep my fucking mouth shut when I think you're being a damn idiot. It's one thing to go a little crazy and have a little fun. But this isn't bungee jumping. And I'm worried you're taking this whole thing too seriously. You're willing to do something dangerous just to win a bet against your own damn self. Your life won't be over after graduation. You don't have to settle down and get married and start pushing out brats. You can still have a fun, sexy life. But you sure as hell shouldn't wait till then to use some common fucking sense."

Every bit of the stupid lust haze leaves in a rush, anger a strong force pushing it out. "Would you be this upset if there was no list and I just decided I was going to go out to a bar and have a little fun? With no real plan, but open to going home with someone? Just because this scenario is a bit premeditated doesn't make it that much different. You have to back off a little and trust me. I'm not your girlfriend. I'm your friend. And I'm going to do this no matter what. If this is all too much for you, I can leave you out of the rest of it. I won't tell you anything else about the list so it won't stress you out. I get that you're worried and I love you for it. But you have to back. Off."

His rage melts into helpless frustration. "Fine. But at least we need someone or something to turn in to the cops. Please, let me come and at least get a photo of the guy. That way we have something for worst case scenario. Look at it this way. With the knowledge I have your back, you can relax and enjoy yourself. You won't have to worry about anything but having a good time. Mark another item from your precious list." He takes another step, taking one of my hands off my hips and holding it in both of his. "Please, Amanda."

I groan and pinch the bridge of my nose. He isn't going to stop until I give in. "Fine. But only for a photo. Nothing else."

"Fine."

"Fine," I snap.

I rip my hand from his, grabbing my purse and sweater. "I've got to go. I'll see you later."

I don't give him the chance to say anything before I slam out of his apartment. I shouldn't let him rattle me like that? It's MY fucking fuckit list, not his. It's like he heard nothing I was saying, nothing I meant got through to him. He was too worked up with worry and fear. He's always been my protector, and usually, I am grateful for it, but he went too far today. Maybe I really should consider doing the rest of the list without him. As close as we are, it's a little weird that I've shared so much with him.

With our night of sex and our little side bet, things are getting strained. And I especially don't like the continued fantasies he keeps inserting into my own. I mean, it isn’t the fantasies that bother me—those are hot. It’s that he seems to think his should take precedent over mine. No, I need more experiences to drown out our night together, so we can get back to normal.

I force my angry stride to slow along the sidewalk. There's no reason to get so worked up just because he's pissed at me and I'm pissed at him. We've been pissed at each other and had arguments and fights for a hundred reasons over the years. I'm freaking out over nothing. This will blow over just like all the others.

That's part of the whole life-long friends gig, right?

Right?