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The message appears on my display mere seconds after I enter my apartment. I just drove Mila home, and even though I miss the taste of her strawberry lip balm, I know it was the right decision to call it a night. We're going at an irrational pace anyway, and I don't want her to feel pressured by my advances.

? I shoot back the message, raising a brow at her cryptic text.

That's the amount of peanut butter cups I eat in a year. Her message makes me laugh, and I shake my head in amusement as I lie down on the couch.

Good to know. I'll send out the order as soon as I can ;)

I watch the three dots appear and disappear, the smile on my lips turning into a chuckle when I read her next message a moment later. I'll be waiting. And counting, as soon as they're there. I hold off on my reply, watching the three dots do their work as she composes a new message. Thanks for today, Cash. I can only say it again—this was by far the best day I've had in my life. Thank you for being so thoughtful.

And this time, my smile is genuine, not amused. I'm sincerely glad she enjoyed herself. It was a real challenge to figure something out, to find a place special enough for someone as unique as her. Thank you for being there with me. I'm glad you enjoyed it.

It's true. This date was something I've never done before—and even if its purpose was to make sure Mila has a great time, I actually learned something too. Just watching Mila appreciate the literature in that room showed me how much she lives for what she does. It's inspiring.

Oh, and I'm glad you didn't run off with Celeste. Her message brings me out of my reverie.

Oh, she was trying, believe me... I shake my head with a laugh as I send the reply.

I do—she seemed quite flirty around you. Can't blame her, though. You are quite the charmer.

I'll say it again, Lucky. Only for you.

And Celeste. I'm fine with Celeste. I read her message, unable to hide the gigantic grin that curves on my lips. We may have said we'll get to know each other, but we never talked about exclusivity. Even though to me it's obvious, it might not be to her.

Only Celeste? I know it's farfetched to get a straight answer from her. I've gotten to know her enough to be aware of her insecurities, and I know how hard it is for her to stand her ground, sometimes.

Only Celeste. Her answer illuminates my display. Honestly, I'm not even surprised that she proves me wrong once again.

I can live with that. Is there some eighty-year-old man in your life I need to be worried about too?

It takes a while for her reply to come through, though my smile stays as bright as before; the effect this woman has on me is mind-blowing. No eighty-year-old man in my life. Just Mathilda and me.

Mathilda?

Shit...I did not just write that and send it, did I?

I snort at her words, knowing exactly what she means. My brain doesn't work properly when she's around, either. Who is Mathilda? I ask.

Promise not to laugh...

Cross my heart and hope to die, Lucky.

It takes another minute or two before she finally replies, and Lord, was I not prepared for that answer. Mathilda is my typewriter.

I break that promise in a split second, laughing out loud while I sit up on my couch. I'm not laughing! I lie blatantly.

I know you are.

Fine, I am. But I think it's cute. Do you have a picture of her?

Come on, now you're just making fun of me... My eyes widen at that for a second. I remember how she told me she felt like a joke sometimes, and the last thing I want is for her to think I see her as one.

I'm serious, Lucky. I told you I'm a curious person, and if Mathilda is part of your life, then I want to get to know her too.

You're kidding, right?

I'm as serious as the heart attack that's coming your way with the amount of peanut butter cups you're eating. I laugh at my own words, knowing full well that I'm more than full of myself right now.

Oh my God, you just can't stop, can you? Her text makes me grin, even though I know I've been overly confident lately. I just can't help it; I enjoy life around her. I can be who I am. And I like to make people laugh, especially Mila.

Are you smiling right now?

Her reply comes within a few seconds. Yes.

Then no. I can't stop. Send me the pics, Lucky.

It takes a couple of minutes until I get the next message, and I can't help but laugh again when I study the picture of a typewriter right next to a large cup of coffee.

Are you drinking coffee at 8 PM?

Yes, I am drinking coffee at 8 PM. A certain someone entertained me all day today and promised to do so tomorrow as well, so I have to take a night shift to finish this chapter. For a second I feel guilty for keeping her away from work today, but then I decide it's definitely worth it, and I hope she feels the same. Not that I minded, just so you know, chimes in my inbox, and damn, it's like she reads my mind sometimes.

Okay then...well, Mathilda is quite beautiful. Not as much as you, though ;) And now, even I have to laugh at my behavior. I know I'm being way too much right now. But I guess you won't like that I want to pick you up at 10 tomorrow?

10 AM?

Yes, 10 in the morning. I said we'd spend the day together. The day starts with breakfast and ends with dinner, right? I'm giving you a few hours' more sleep here, Lucky. I wanted to pick you up at 7 originally.

7? Wow. You're really going all in, huh?

You have no idea...

And she really hasn't. Because if there's one thing I'm sure of, it's that Mila deserves attention, even if she doesn't see that herself. Truth be told, I already miss her presence. It's not just the unearthly physical attraction between us, it's also the way she radiates around me. I literally cannot stop looking at her, drinking her in...

She's a drug, and I'm already addicted.

***

I'm in front of Mila's doorstep by 9:41, not really caring that I'm way too early. I know she'll probably hate me for this, but my impatience overweighs anything else right now. So I knock on the door, and mere seconds later it opens, revealing Jasmine, who just studies me with a raised brow. Her red locks fall into her face as she ties her fleece bathrobe on top of her stomach, not at all impressed by my presence so early in the morning. "Hayden Cross," she says.

"Jasmine. Good to see you again." I greet her and she steps aside, waving me into the apartment with a yawn.

"Come in. You want coffee? Or is that, like, a no-go in your fancy quarterback diet?"

She closes the door, and I shake my head with a laugh as I follow her into the open kitchen. "Nope, not a no-go. I'll take one, if it's not that much of a bother."

"Sure." She smiles. "Mila made sure we have the best coffee in this city."

I laugh, absolutely believing that statement. "Is she awake yet?"

Now Jasmine's the one who snickers as she presses the buttons on their coffee machine, the heavenly smell slowly starting to invade the space. "I see you got to know her already," she remarks. "I'm actually not sure. I think I heard her cursing just a minute ago... Let me check."

She places the mug on the table while I take a seat on the couch right next to it, shooting her a quick smile. "Thanks. Tell her there's no rush."

"Will do, loverboy." She winks as she walks off, and only seconds later her voice echoes through the apartment. "Mimi! You up?"

A loud groan fills the hallway when I hear a door open, and I have to stifle a laugh from the sound of Mila's grumpy voice. "Yes...what is it?"

"There's a hot quarterback sitting in our kitchen. He says there's no rush, though. I just thought I'd let you know."

Mila mumbles something inaudible after that, and I decide to focus on the kitchen I'm occupying right now, giving the two friends privacy as I study the interior of this room. It's very cozy, with a ton of pictures on the wall—some of them are recent photos of Mila, Jasmine, and another girl.

My gaze settles on an older picture of Mila and Jasmine, both of them holding a giant trophy with proud smiles on their faces.

"Oh, that was a great day." Jasmine's voice makes me turn around, and I see her standing in the doorway, smirking at my interest in these pictures. "My mother always wanted me to be the typical girly girl," she explains. "But I hated that, and when I told Mila I wanted to rebel, she suggested I joined the soccer team."

A chuckle escapes my throat as I study the picture a little longer. Mila's hair is much shorter, and she has a pair of those big glasses which make her eyes look huge, but her smile is so genuine and bright that even now it takes my breath away.

"Well, I said I'd only do that if she did it with me. Being the phenomenal friend she is, she caved, so we ended up playing this tournament in our school." Jasmine laughs as she takes the photo in her hand and runs a finger over the glass, reminiscing. "Would you believe we actually won that thing?" She turns her head to look at me, and now I can't help but laugh with her.

"You're telling me not only did Mila play soccer, she also won a tournament?"

With a grin on her lips, she places the photograph back on the shelf and walks over to me. "I wouldn't exactly say she played." She snorts. "It was more of a run and hide and trying not to trip over the ball or her own feet... The coach felt sorry for her, though, so he let her play. He was as surprised as we were when we won the thing."

She looks back at the picture, the pure affection and empathy in her eyes showing how close their connection is. It's obvious these two share a strong bond.

"So." Jasmine interrupts my thoughts. "What do you have planned?"

My eyes immediately flick to the hallway, checking if Mila is coming out yet.

"Don't worry," she assures me. "It'll take her another fifteen minutes to get ready, I promise. It's not because she needs makeup or styles her hair; it's because she'll change into five different outfits just to get back to the first one. Trust me."

"You've been friends with her for a long time, right?"

"Twenty-two years, to be exact. Straight out of kindergarten." She shoots me a proud smile.

"Wow. That's a long time."

"It is. Which brings me back to the topic at hand—what do you have planned for her?" Her blue eyes study me with interest.

"Well..." After checking the hallway once more, I tell her about the day I've planned. She nods, listens intently until I'm finished, and then leans back with a smile on her face.

"Okay, I gotta admit, I'm impressed."

"And why's that?" I smirk at the surprise on her features.

"It seems like you know her already. A lot more than I expected."

"So you're saying she'll like it?"

Jasmine leans back in her chair as she shakes her head in amusement. "Hayden Ice Cross." She laughs. "Are you actually nervous about this?"

"I, uh..." Fuck yes, I'm nervous. Not that I'm telling her that, though.

Before Jasmine can comment on my apprehensive behavior, we hear a door open in the apartment, and seconds later Mila appears in the kitchen hallway, fiddling with the hem of her white long-sleeve shirt that she tucks into a pair of black denim shorts. All it takes is one look at her.

That's all I need to know no matter how nervous I am, no matter how concerned for both me and her... She's so fucking worth it.