“Fuck,” he seethed, letting me go.

I could still feel him through his pants, standing strong and hard, and it was for me. Goddamn it, Fallon!

She opened the door, and we both straightened, knowing how guilty we looked. I was sure I had a blush all over my body. I could feel the heat of my skin.

“Oh.” She stopped short, her forehead scrunching up. “Hey.”

I shifted my eyes, smoothing down my clothes. “We were painting.”

Jared snorted behind me, but I ignored him.

Fallon nodded. “In your jammies,” she said more to herself than to us. “Perfectly normal.”

I arched a brow at her as she stood there in her workout shorts and tank. We ran on Sundays, and I was late.

“Jared?” I cleared my throat, unable to hide the amusement from my face as I turned around. “Go home.”

He shot me his little know-it-all smirk, and I jerked when he brushed his palm over my ass and then walked past me, out the front door. Leaning down, he gave Fallon a peck on the forehead. “Your timing sucks,” he grumbled and walked past her.

Chapter 11

Tate

My friends each brought something different into my life.

Juliet believed that love conquered all and everyone deserved a white-picket-fence life. Fallon believed that choices came with confusion, and if we truly knew what we wanted, then there was no choice. Jax believed opportunities shouldn’t be wasted, and the bigger the risk, the bigger the reward.

And Madoc was like me. He was the one I listened to when I wanted to hear my own opinion in a deeper voice.

And the best part about him was that I was a separate entity from Jared to him. He cared about my well-being, even if it didn’t serve the interest of his friend.

Sorry about your party, I texted him after I got back from my run with Fallon. I’d produced enough drama over the past two years, and I always felt like I wasn’t carrying my weight as a friend. Madoc never cared, though.

Madoc: Nothing to be sorry for. You okay?

I grabbed an apple and jogged up the stairs, desperate for a shower, as my clothes were sticking to my skin.

Yes, I typed. I’ll be okay. Don’t worry.

Madoc: You need to talk to Ben.

I halted, dropping my head back and sighing. Jesus. It was like he could read my mind.

I tapped my thumbs on the keys, sending my reply. I don’t even know what’s happening yet, okay?

Madoc shot back. Yes, you do.

I rolled my eyes, kicking off my shoes and hitting the power on my iPod dock, hearing “The Boys of Summer” by the Ataris spring forth.

My phone beeped again. Okay, screw Jared. Answer me this . . . do you think about Ben?

I plopped my phone down on the sink and stared at myself in the mirror. I wasn’t ignoring his question. He just didn’t need to hear the answer.

Sure, I thought about Ben. I didn’t think about him like I thought about Jared, though, and that’s what had me a little ashamed.

Ben and I hadn’t committed to seeing only each other, and we hadn’t gotten intimate yet. But I knew he wanted that. Hell, he’d wanted it in high school.

But we were dating, and if Fallon hadn’t walked in this morning, I would’ve gone over the edge with Jared, despite any obligation I might have to Ben.

My phone beeped with another text, and I looked down, almost kicking myself that I’d texted Madoc at all this morning.

Do you want him, need him, and live for him? Madoc asked.

I shook my head, smiling at my friend’s insight. Yeah, okay. So whether or not Jared was a factor, I still wasn’t getting carried away and feeling all lovey-dovey about Ben. Point taken.

Does he make you horny? Madoc continued, and I snatched up my phone again.

“Seriously?” I blurted out at his crass vocabulary.

Do you want to crawl all over him in the morning? he went on, and I let out a loud sigh.

Yeah. Shut up now.

I jutted out my thumbs, typing to tell him just that, when another text rolled in before I finished.

What the hell? Did he take lessons in speed texting?

Does he give you a lady boner? he teased. Make your loins quiver and throb? Do you masturbate to him?

“Madoc!” I growled at my phone, squeezing it tight. “What the . . . ?”

Why so quiet? My phone beeped again. Answer my questions, Tate!

Motherf . . . I clenched my teeth. “I’d talk if you’d just shut up, jackass,” I fumed.

He texted again, and I just slumped my shoulders, walking back into the bedroom, defeated.

Okay, real quick: Ben or Jared? he inquired.

Huh?

Ben or Jared? he urged again. Don’t think. Just say the first name that pops into your head.

My mouth fell open, exhaling a frustrated sigh. “Wha . . .”

Ben or Jared!!! he text-screamed.

My thumbs shook as I tried to type, but my brain felt like little electric wires were zapping every hair follicle on my scalp.

I squeezed the phone, trying to find the letters.

Now! he beeped.

“Ugh!” I plopped down on my bed, crashing back on the mattress and pounding the sides with my fists, giving up.

Jerk.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to remember what the point of the conversation had been.

Madoc was Madoc. He’d drive you crazy with fifteen questions so you’d figure out the answer on your own, rather than take two seconds to give you the answer himself. He felt the journey was more important than the destination.

Just like me.

I slipped my hand into my hair and rubbed my scalp, exhaling a laugh at the irony.