“No.” I picked up my fork. “I don’t think I’m capable of having casual sex like you are.”

He raised his eyebrow.

“I mean…His strange sex sounds aside, all we had was attraction and sweet kisses, but I need more than that to form a connection. Even if it is only for temporary sex. Besides, it’s not worth starting anything anyway since I’ll be leaving eventually, you know?”

“Not necessarily. Long distance relationships can work under certain circumstances.”

“What circumstances?”

“None.” He laughed. “I was just trying to give you a false sense of hope.”

I smiled and cut my waffle, and for the next hour it was as if things were absolutely normal between us. I was actually convinced that us having sex last night wasn’t going to change us at all.

When it was time for the bill, Carter covered it as usual and boxed up my leftovers. Unlike usual, he pressed his hand against the small of my back when we stood up, and he left it there until we got to his car—sending my nerves into a frenzy with a simple touch.

We didn’t talk on the way to my house, and I noticed that he’d neglected to turn on the radio. The only noise between us was the wind and rushing traffic.

Two stoplights from my block, he finally spoke. “After all these months of stealing classes from the culinary school, they still don’t care that you’ve never paid a dime of tuition?”

“Shockingly, no. It hit me a few weeks ago that they only call security on me when it’s exam day, and the professors really like me. My passion, anyway. Did I tell you that one of them wrote me a recommendation letter for a few other schools?”

“No.” He laughed as he pulled over to the curb. “Please tell me that you actually read it and made sure he didn’t say that you’re a thief anywhere inside.”

“He did not!” I laughed with him, opening my door. “He said I was brilliant and possessed some of the most fervent passion he’d seen in years…He did mention my “creative means” to learn, but there’s no way they’ll equate that to me stealing classes.”

“Let’s hope not.”

“Thanks for the ride.” I shut the door. “I’ll hit you up tomorrow if Nicole bails on me.”

“She will.”

“She won’t!” I quickly walked away and rushed inside my house.

I put my hand over my heart and exhaled; it was racing all over again.

This was so not good…

Track 14. Speak Now (3:42)

I slept late the next day. All day.

I even called in sick to my part time job at the marina, and let my manager berate me for the umpteenth time. (Something about if I was ever late again or called in sick one more day I would be fired. I didn’t care about the fired part, it was more about losing my boat access pass that I sometimes needed to use when the chefs held classes on Parker Island; private boat fares weren’t cheap.)

When I’d finally found the motivation to drag myself up, it was six o’clock and I figured I should start getting ready for a night with Nicole. I went downstairs to see what she’d dropped off earlier and found myself standing in a sea of plastic bags—bags full of all types of junk food: Cheetos, chocolate bars, twenty different types of fruity candy, and lots of vodka and beer.

It was just like Nicole to literally drop something off without thinking about putting it away. By the time I finished stuffing everything into the pantry, it was seven o’clock and she’d sent me a text:

Soooo don’t kill me for this, but I have to cancel on you tonight! I have a really, really good reason though! It has an eight pack and I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow, I promise!

WHAT THE HELL?

Holding back a frustrated scream, I typed a text:

This is the tenth-plus time you’ve stood me up for a fucking guy, Nicole. A non-boyfriend guy at that and I’m beyond tired of it! You have no idea what it means to be a good friend, so the second you decide that you want to be one, let me know.

My finger hovered over the send button, but I didn’t press it.

She wasn’t worth it anymore.

I grabbed some of the snacks she’d bought and headed upstairs to my room.

I flipped through a few cooking channels and settled on a chef that was making a specialty crème brûlée. I changed into a different set of pajamas and got into bed, grabbing my binder to take notes.

As the chef was testing the custard’s temperature, my phone vibrated. Carter.

My mind immediately pictured him kissing my lips and holding my body taut against him, so I knew I didn’t need to talk to him right now.

I hit ignore.

He called again.

I hit ignore again.

He sent me a text:

Are you hitting ignore because you don’t want to admit that I was right about Nicole?

You were wrong about her actually. We’re at my place taking shots and eating pizza. I’ll call you later.

I’m looking at her right now, so unless you’ve grown a beard and a mustache within the past six hours, I take it that she did, in fact, bail on you?

Unfortunately…The guy she’s with has a beard and a mustache?

Yes. He also looks like he’s at least ten to twelve years older than her.

You’re kidding.

Not at all. What are you really doing?

Moping about what pitiful friends I have. (You included.) You?

Getting ready to head home. I was trying to help Josh find a “just friend” friend at the bar tonight.

Did it work?

No. He decided to go for the one night stand option instead. You want some company?

Not really…

I lied.

Well, I do. Be ready in twenty. I’ll pick you up and we’ll come to my place.

What’s wrong with my place?

I would answer that, but it never happened…

I blushed.

Okay. See you in twenty.

I didn’t bother changing out of my pajamas. I put on a pair of old worn sneakers and took a duffle bag out of my closet.

I walked downstairs and stuffed most of the things Nicole had bought inside of the bag.

“You going to a slumber party, Ari?” Heather looked up at me from the counter, smiling. “Aren’t we a little too old for those?”

“No, Nicole stood me up again so I’m going to hang out with Carter for a while.”

“Oh. Well, sorry to hear that about Nicole, again. At least Carter was free tonight, right?”

“Right.” I paused. “I slept with him the other night.”

“You slept with who?” She tilted her head to the side.

“Carter. I slept with him. We had sex.”

“Right…” She put her hand over her chest and laughed loudly. “Like I’d ever believe that! You two are like the cutest non-couple/best friends ever.” She looked down at her work again. “Have fun.”

“I’ll try...” I slung the duffel bag over my shoulder and stepped onto the porch. I was certain that most people wouldn’t believe we’d had sex either; hell, even though I had the memory to prove it, a part of me was still in disbelief.

Carter pulled up just as I was sitting down. Instead of waiting on me to make a move for the car, he walked up the pathway and reached for the duffle bag.