“Did they help? Yes. Do I need them? No.”

“Then don’t take them. You’re not a child who doesn’t understand what helps you and what doesn’t. Don’t let anyone control what you put in your body.” He brings the pill bottle around, grabs my hand and sets it inside. He leans against the counter. “Throw them away.”

My head tugs back and then it hits me.

Pills.

The night he argued with his dad in the yard, he accused him of getting his mom addicted to pills.

Is that why she’s asleep now?

Is she always asleep?

There’s an angry sense of helplessness slipping over him, one he can’t control or can’t hide. One that has me removing the lid off the container and dumping them into the sink. I wash them down with the soda I cut myself on and grab another, pop the top and pour.

I turn to Nico, passing him a cup. “I haven’t taken them since finals last year,” I offer quietly. “It was never about addiction. It was appeasing my mother, which I guess is sort of what I was addicted to.”

For what seems like a lifetime, he stares, but finally takes a small drink. His shoulders lower with his glass.

There’s a shift in the air, and suddenly the tension in the room is an entirely different kind.

I replay him and I in the water in my mind, and I’ve got a feeling he’s doing the same as his eyes darken before me, the tip of his tongue coming out to tease his bottom lip the slightest bit.

I focus on my drink, his nearness so overwhelming that I lead us into a larger space, my living room.

Tell me why I’m nervous?

“Because your body is leading your mind.”

My head snaps to Nico and he chuckles.

“Yeah, you said that out loud.”

I laugh anxiously. “I’m sorry I’m a mess. It’s been a day. I’m so sore from double practices, then this unintentional sharing session we’ve just had, and the whole my mom’s bleeding me dry thing...” I trail off, looking at him. “Thanks for not saying anything at dinner.”

He eyes narrow in query. “Your friends don’t know?”

“That my mom spends more than most people earn in a month in a week?” A dejected laugh escapes. “No, they don’t know. They know she’s all about her outings but...” I shrug.

My friends don’t necessarily love my mom, but they don’t hate her either, and I’d like to keep it that way. Knowing she takes from me would piss them off and once you lose respect for someone it’s really hard to get it back.

I shouldn’t care to preserve their feelings toward her, but I do it anyway.

Nico looks around, taking in the picturesque living area that clearly goes unlived-in. “How often is she gone?”

“There’s, what, typically thirty days in the month? So, twenty-two, twenty-five.”

He frowns. “You’re alone more than not.”

I turn, focusing on the bland images along the wall. “I don’t mind.”

“Yeah you do.”

That has me glancing over my shoulder. “What makes you say that?”

“You spend most of your time outside,” he says, flicking the ugly tassels dangling from the edge of a couch pillow. “Bet it’s because you hate being in here by yourself.”

Like you, you mean?

Is he by himself as much as me?

I shrug, trailing the length of the fireplace before I spin and give a roundabout answer. “I’m used to it.”

“That’s shitty.”

“Maybe.” I nod, moving us back into safer ground. “But I told you I didn’t want to talk about it, remember?”

His chuckle is full of innuendo as he cocks his head, leaning on the edge of an armchair. “Yeah, Little D. I remember.”

Okay, not safer ground!

I quickly turn, flipping on the TV as an excuse to look away.

Why do I like him here?

I shouldn’t.

Should I?

The light shuffle of Nico’s feet should have been expected, he won’t accept my holding back. The hairs on the base of my neck stand as my was-steady hand begins to wobble against the remote.

Am I seriously this pent up?

Nico’s fingers wrap around mine and he gently takes it from me.

He makes no other move, his breath purposefully cascading over the exposed skin on my shoulders, so I attempt to settle myself and spin to face him.

It must be what he wanted, my attention fully and completely on him – my fake boyfriend I almost real kissed.

He wastes no time, instantly stepping in until the heels of my feet meet the entertainment center.

His hair falls into his eyes, blocking the smallest bit of his face from me.

For some reason, I’m not at all okay with that.

I pull my lips between my teeth, reaching up to brush it away, but my touch is too hesitant for his liking, so he helps apply some pressure, keeping his fingers on mine as he leads them to his neck, dragging them around to trail over his throat where he releases me, allowing my hand to fall to my side.

“You’re my girl, right?” he rasps.

“That’s what we agreed to...”

His glare is quick and he pauses. “The answer is yes, Demi, and since the answer is yes, that means when you touch me, you mean it.”

My pulse beats heavy in my throat and I think I nod.

“Know what else it means?” He shuffles closer, one dark brow jacking up. “You can touch me anytime you want, however you want, and I won’t stop you.”

I free my lips from between my teeth and his eyes darken.

“Because of our arrangement?”

Nico’s soft chuckle fans across my mouth and he steps back, tossing the remote to the couch. “No, D. I won’t stop you because I’m not a fool... or a saint.” He shrugs unapologetically.

“Does this mean it’s the same for you? You can touch me whenever you want... how you want?” My chin lowers, but my eyes stay on his.

He licks his full lips. “You tell me.”

What’s it mean if the answer feels a lot like a ‘yes’?

This is bad, right? I’m not prepared for Nico’s hands to have free rein of my body.

Who am I kidding... there is no preparing for a guy like him.

Fake feelings or not.

The hint of his grin further proves he’s in my head more than he should be. “’Night, D. Keep these doors locked.”

“Yes, Dad.”

His smirk is slow, and I laugh, pushing him away.

I’m more than happy to end the night on a lighter note.

He starts across the yard, and a question pops in my head.

One I shouldn’t ask but can’t handle not knowing the answer to.

“Hey, Neek!”

His feet pause in the grass and he glances over his shoulder, nodding his chin.

“Will you make me want it first?” I ask, not spelling out what ‘it’ could mean.

Knowing him, there’s a long list of answers to be named.

Nico’s brows jump, but a knowing look quickly replaces his surprise, and in true Nico fashion, he calls me out on my obvious physical response to all that is him.

The corner of his mouth tips up, half his face blanketed by darkness. “As opposed to you, what, D, not wanting it?”

And then he’s gone.