Ethan sat up now, paying full attention to his best friend. "I'm sure there are plenty of guys interested in you."

Tristan raised an eyebrow.

"Fine," Ethan conceded. "I really don't know shit about your love life. Is that weird? Do you want me to ask you about it? I mean . . ." He shrugged. "I just don't know how open you want to be about it all."

The living room door slid open and Amanda stuck her head out. "You guys coming to bed?"

"Yeah, in a minute," we said in unison, then laughed.

Lexi snorted. "It's like we're nagging housewives and they're forty."

They closed the door, and Tristan continued. "I wish I was straight."

"Don't be gay," Ethan joked. "You can't choose that shit."

Tristan belched. "I know. But sometimes I'll be sitting on the sofa and Amanda will walk in, in her tight gym shorts and her sports bra, and her goddamn perfect ass—"

"Whoa," I said, at the same time as Ethan said, "Gross, dude."

Tristan laughed. "Just bear with me here. I'm trying to prove a point." His eyes were half closed, the alcohol clearly affecting him. "So she walks in wearing barely anything with this killer body, and I look down at my dick," he lowers his head to look down at his junk, ". . . and I stare at it, thinking, just get hard, just once, if she can't do it for you . . . then there's no hope."

By now, I've started laughing.

He kept on, getting more animated. "I'm like, Come on, kid!" he shouted. "Get. Hard." He got louder. "GET A FUCKING HARD-ON!" He was screaming now. Ethan was on the ground laughing. I held my ribs, trying to ease the pain. The image of a twenty-two-year-old jock like Tristan yelling at his dick to get hard was just too fucking much.

"I'LL GIVE YOU A DOLLAR! JUST GIVE ME A BONER!"

***

I was still laughing when I got into bed with Amanda.

"What's funny?"

I shook my head, containing my laugh.

"What?" she asked through a smile.

"Just Tristan—trying to get hard when he looks at your ass."

"What?" she squealed.

"Nothing, babe." I was still buzzed. "I can't even explain it right now."

She didn't press further, just pulled the sheets up to her chin and got more comfortable.

"You didn't take your Xanax again."

I shrugged. "I'm fine, babe, honestly."

She scooted closer, resting her head on my chest. "Will it hurt if I hug you?"

"Not sure, try it."

She did. "Does it hurt?"

"No." Lie.

"What did you and Ethan talk about?"

"A lot of stuff."

She kissed my chest once. My fingers played with her hair. "Are you going to tell me, or is it some kind of guy code or something?"

"It's not a guy code, it's just something between me and Ethan, and I think I'd prefer it to stay that way."

"Okay," she said suspiciously.

"It's nothing bad. You just mean a lot to both of us, that's all."

She sighed. "So are things going to be okay with you two? And with us?"

"Yes." Truth.

31

Logan

I waited for her at the bar while she finished up her shift. We'd spent every spare second together since the blow up at her house. That was a week ago.

"All done." She untied her apron and threw it in the air dramatically. "I have the weekend off and I'm going to spend every single second of it attached to you, and you better not complain." She pointed her finger at me with her lips pursed. As if I'd ever complain about that.

"Shit," I teased. "I kind of planned on seeing my other girlfriends at some point."

She gasped in mock horror. "Well," she said, her nose up in the air as she made her way to the exit. I watched her ass as she did. "You better tell them to go easy on you. You should be healed well enough to let me do . . ." She spun around and started walking backwards. ". . . some really, dirty, dirty things to you."

I grunted.

Legit, grunted.

I quickened my pace to catch up to her. "What kind of dirty things?" I asked, putting my arm around her and bending low so only she could hear.

She shrugged. "I dunno," she said, then pinched my ear. Hard. "Tell me again about these so-called other girlfriends?"

I pulled back, laughing. She let go of my ear. "I love when you get jealous. It's such a fucking turn on."

We got to my truck and I opened the door for her. She turned around to face me before getting in. "Seriously, how sore are you?" She pulled at my shirt until my chest touched hers.

I shook my head. "Not sore at all."

She wet her lips with fire in her eyes.

I drove home, completely distracted by her hand on my dick.

We were there no longer than a minute before our clothes were off and I was inside her. We had to go slow. I’d lied. I was still a little sore.

***

"Does Micky need me to bring anything tomorrow?"

"No." I spoke into my pillow. I was half asleep when I turned my head in her direction. "I don't even know what it is. I hope it's just the gang, you know?"

She moved in closer so we shared the pillow and her nose touched mine. "It's a good reason to celebrate, though. You being home and all."