"You look so stressed it's stressing me out," Levi complains from my bed.

I may not live at home anymore, but most of my closet does. As annoying as it is, it's a good excuse to visit between Sundays. Even when he's being a brat.

"Sorry for the inconvenience," I joke.

I am stressed. So many parties with so many vague dress codes. It's faux pas to wear the same dress twice in a season, so I rented four to complement what I already have. Now, I can't decide which to wear. I hate summer.

Everyone thinks Jeremy is my style guru because he's gay, but he's a bear who can barely dress himself. My secret weapon is straight as an arrow and lounging against my headboard in an Off-White hoodie.

"I can't explain how frustrating this wedding has been. Mary's brother lives in Spain, so every event that happens here falls to me."

"But why though?" Levi always asks the real questions.

"You know how Ryan is. He doesn't realize how hard anything is outside of school because he's always paid someone to do it."

"So, is he paying you?"

"Yes. With his undying gratitude."

Levi laughs. "Ryan would fall apart if you weren't by his side all the time."

"Believe me, I know." Going back to the closet, I pull the dress from the rack and grab the shoes. Holding them in the doorway for Levi to see, I ask, "This isn't too much, is it?"

"Too much for what? Your shift on the corner?"

I scowl. "What is that supposed to mean?"

He sets his phone beside his hip and leans forward, pressing his fingertips together like a CEO reprimanding an intern. "The dress is see-through, Teagan. You're going to a wedding."

I fight my smile. "It's a reception and only the exterior layer is translucent. It's solid underneath."

"It's giving Shein," he quips.

Begrudgingly, I let out a laugh. "Fine. What about the Marchesa? Is it too formal for black tie optional?" What even is black tie optional?

He rests his cheek on a fist. "You don't want me to answer that."

I have four other vetoed outfits laid out beside him. He's not being helpful at all. "You're supposedly the voguish one in the family. Why can't you help me choose?"

He smiles at my flattery. "I'm definitely the voguish one in the family, but that's not saying much when this is what you're working with." He gestures to all the options.

I groan. "Help me!"

"Fine! Do the fluffy dress with the fluffy Jimmys, then save the Lhuillier for the next black tie."

The fluffy one is indigo, floor length, and backless other than the thin straps that cross back and forth. Light ruffles trace the vertical straps on the shoulder blades, looking like tiny angel wings, and the skirt consists of asymmetrical, scolloped layers of tulle. The two elements stress the band at the waist, creating a dramatic A-line. I kind of love it.

"The fluffy Jimmys aren't overkill with the fluffy dress?"

"No, it looks good," he says as he picks up his phone, obviously done with me. Setting the shoes and the hem of the dress, he's right. But can I—"You have the body of a Dior model, don't ask me if you can pull it off."

"Okay, Ms. Cleo. Damn," I laugh. Levi can always read my mind.

I sit on the bed next to him and let my head fall onto his shoulder. I take a deep breath to calm myself—so much stress over what is ultimately just fabric. I'm lucky Levi is the way he is.

When I glance at him, he's smiling mischievously at his screen. I lean over his shoulder and see the profile pic that is 75 percent boobs and 25 percent face.

"You're still on Tinder?" I ask with a chuckle.

"You're not?"

I feel myself grin as I pull the phone from his hands. "No, actually. I'm taking a break." 

His shoulder jumps with a quiet gasp. "You're getting some."

I give him a side eye, but my smile grows. "Maybe." I swipe right on the boobs and go to his profile.

"Who?" he asks.

"No one."

"That means someone."

I laugh. "Your tagline is 'yes, it still works?'"

He takes his phone away from me. "Yeah, so? Mind the business that lays you," he jokes, making me cackle. "At least I don't have Mom and Dad trying to trade me for a goat."

I cackle even louder.

When I calm myself, my phone beeps with what I assume is a calendar reminder. It's probably time to leave if I want to be at the library on time. 

"Why is Heath texting you?"

Shit. Rather than lying, I deflect. "Why do any of the guys text me?" I turn to stand so he can't see any hidden information I might show on my face. "I have to go."

"Going to see your fuck buddy?"

"No, sadly. I'm going to prep for court with Ryan." Then I'm going to see my "fuck buddy." The stress of the truth covers the stress of hiding my secret, but I keep my focus trained on packing the dresses into the garment bag just in case.

"You know he wants you, right?" Levi prods again.

"Ryan? Are you out of your mind?"

"No. Heath."

I hesitate for a split second but cover my silence with the sound of a zip. "He doesn't either, not that it matters."

"I think it does."

"It doesn't." Of course Levi is biased. He would love any excuse to hang out with Heath. If I'm getting traded for a goat, he'd prefer it be a goat he likes. "I'm running late. I'll see you at dinner this weekend."

"Bye. Love you."

I kiss his cheek. "Love you more."

Fleeing the room, I swing the garment bag over my shoulder and pull out my phone. Heath's message makes me roll my eyes.

That was close.

When I pass by Rowan's room, I spot him inside. Hunched over his desk with headphones on, a book sits in front of him, and directly behind it, his laptop. He never stops studying.

I walk in and tap his shoulder lightly so as not to scare him. Still, he jumps and pulls off his headphones. "Oh. Hi." He looks at me with tired eyes. 

"Hi, I'm leaving, but I'll see you Sunday."

"Yeah, see you Sunday." He puts his headphones back on and returns to his book. I don't take it personally, I just kiss his cheek and leave him be.

When I'm safely down the hall, I text Heath back.

. . .

After the tedious amount of effort it takes to focus on studying while trying to align a wedding coordination schedule with a different time zone and language barrier, doing something mindless feels amazing. Heath feels amazing.

My eyes are screwed shut as I ride him like my life depends on in. Buried deep, stroking him against a needy spot, the pleasure blooms hot and heady. I'm drunk on it, and right on the edge. Heath moans as I ride him faster and faster, his fingers digging into my hips so hard it hurts. "Ah!" I whimper. "I'm gonna come."

"Fuck, me too."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

The pleasure jolts through me. I open my eyes to look down at him, my pace never changing. A string of curse words falls from my mouth while I watch the orgasm bleed through him. His veins rise, his skin reddens, back arching as his face twists with torment. His eyes snap open when it hits him. 

His moan makes me clench around him. He's so hard as he comes, but I want more. My hips move ragged and desperate, taking everything I can before—"Ahhh!"

My head falls back, the orgasm flowing from my core to my brain in rush after rush. My body clenches around him over and over.

I feel his hands grip my lower back, keeping me from falling back. He leans up, his mouth feathering warm kisses across my breasts, then a few gentle tastes of my nipple as we come down. Out of breath and misted with sweat, I lean my head back up, stroking his hair while his mouth teases my soul back into my body. My mind settles from my high into a blissful calm. Then the clarity brings me back to the message I forgot to give him before I started ripping his pants off.

"You can't text me like that," I say as I pant.

Heath chuckles. "Love the segue, babe."

He falls back to the mattress, his hand replacing his mouth to knead my breast. I pull it away. "I mean it. Levi almost saw your last one."

His face twists. "Can we not talk about your brother while I'm inside you?"

With a sigh, I let him slip from me and tumble to lie beside him. "We have a contract and a schedule for a reason. Clause 3b. No unprofessional communication means you only need to text me if you're running late or giving notice, and you don't have to spell it out like an idiot."

"Sheesh, sorry. It won't happen again."

I pull down my shirt and straighten my panties. Apparently, I wanted it so badly I didn't wait long enough to take my clothes off. That won't get to happen anymore if he keeps being a dumbass.

"Don't ruin this for me, Heath. I'm serious."

"For you? Don't ruin it for me!"

"I'm not the one texting you about 'getting it in,' shithead."

"Okay, but—"

"I don't care. Shut up and leave, please."

He grumbles and lifts himself from my pillow. "You know, you're lucky your boss bitch attitude turns me on."

He turns from me to sit on the edge of the bed. While he fumbles around with the condom and his clothes, I enjoy the view. He's smaller than Lenny—only where the sun shines, that is—but his muscles are more defined, and his ass is out of this world. I love a soft woman with plenty of curves to grab onto, but with men, I like them hard in every possible way.

I roll to my side to get a better view of him pulling on his underwear. He seems to move in slow motion when he stands, his abs flexing, his dark hair falling into his face. He settles the band at his hips and catches me. A smirk curls his lips.

As much as he annoys me, this has been great so far. All I want is to keep having meaningless sex every time I'm stressed.

More undressy, less depressy. My summer goals.

Summer goals? Shit. "Hey, I almost forgot," I remind myself. "I can't do Friday."

"What? Why not?"

My mock trial, AKA my final and my entire grade for the semester, the bane of my existence, and the only stressor that has kept my focus away from the even great stressor waiting in line behind it. As confident as I feel about it, my fear of failure won't let me admit it. The dinner after will either be for celebration or consolation. "It's none of your business. I have a thing."

"Well, do I get a rain check?"

"Is that in the contract?" I retort. 

He groans with annoyance. His shirt goes back on and I settle back onto my pillow. He grabs his keys and wallet from my nightstand. "What time on Saturday?" he asks.

Ugh. "I'll send you a calendar invite so you stop asking me."

He laughs, then catches himself. "Oh, you're serious?"

_____

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