WAKING UP WRAPPED with Everett felt like the world was playing a cruel trick on me.

The living room was coated in rainbow shadows from my newly purchased vase, and it was all too much from the mixtures of oranges casting down upon his face from the sun rising to the aura of color floating around us...

This isn't real. It can't be real. At first, I thought we could keep this casual and have this strictly be just benefits between us, but my heart laughs as I scan the parting of Everett's lips while he sleeps. I'm so cozy and warm, and not an ounce of me wants to get up, but we both have class this morning, so one of us needs to make breakfast.

Peeling myself off his large frame, careful not to wake him, I pad into the kitchen barefoot, realizing that at some point in the night, I stripped myself of my work polo and wound up wearing Everett's sweatshirt instead. He must have given it to me, but I don't even remember waking up. I certainly wouldn't have asked for it merely because none of Liam's things ever fit me. The clothing was always too snug, too form-fitting for my body, but Everett's sweatshirt fits just right. It's long on me since he's so tall, grazing just above my knees, and I'm warm and coated in nothing but his smell.

The smile growing on my face at that realization terrifies me.

What are we even doing? We slept together last night by choice, and becoming more serious with each other isn't an option. I can't do this to Liam. Not after he was so good to me for eight years and continues to look out for me. Hell, I've already fucked Everett, and that's crossing a boundary in itself. I've stabbed him in the back, and he doesn't even know it yet.

With a frustrated sigh, I grab a pan from below the stove and melt some butter. My fingers are clutching the counters with white knuckles, my head hanging between my shoulders from the guilt tearing its way up my throat and into my eyes. Tears threaten to spill, but I quickly blink them away and crack some eggs into the pan.

None of this is fair. How could I be falling for my ex's best friend? Everett Holden, of all people? He's the world's most miserable man, or at least I thought he was until we started whatever this is between us. Now he's sweet and considerate and nothing like I originally assumed. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. The thought of ending things when I'm so happy is eating me alive, but I have to, right?

I jump when a pair of hands snake around my waist from behind. Everett's. He splays them across my belly, across that spot I'm always so worried about, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Cooking breakfast in just my sweatshirt is dangerous, Em. Do you have any idea how good you look in my clothes?"

The lump in my throat grows, and while the eggs cook, I spin around to face him. He's boxing me in with his hands on either side of the counter, and as soon as he reads the expression on my face, that cocky grin falls off his face. "What's wrong?"

I shoot him a pointed glare. "Everett, we slept together last night."

"Yes..." He's looking at me as if I've completely lost it, and I hate that he's shirtless right now. His abs are on full display to me, his briefs barely clinging onto his hips, and his brown curls are a big, sexy mess on top of his head. He's going to be the death of me.

"Don't give me that look, Ev. You know it's a problem. We agreed this would be casual, but lately, it's been feeling..."

He arches a brow, waiting for me to finish.

"Like this is escalating into something more, and we both know it can't. We agreed that it wouldn't."

"Because of Liam," he adds, stepping away from me. With a scrape of his hand across his jaw, he diverts his eyes away from me and stares at the floor.

"Not only because of him, but we both aren't ready for something serious whether you'll admit it or not. We have attachment issues. We can't get close to anyone without freaking the hell out, and what we're doing is forming an attachment that we both know won't be able to last. One of us will fuck it up by running, and someone will get hurt."

"You're panicking," he says almost to himself rather than me. "You wanted it to be casual, and we slept together last night when we shouldn't have. I...I'm sorry I took it further than you wanted."

He didn't take it further than I wanted. That's what he doesn't understand. If it were up to me, I'd crawl into bed with him every single night, but I don't want to explain to Liam that I'm falling for Everett, so keeping things casual between us is what's for the best.

"Are we still...hooking up, though?" he asks.

I turn my back to him to scoop our eggs out of the pan and throw the bacon in their place, unable to look him in the eyes as I reply, "And give up the chance to have earth-shattering orgasms? I think not."

I can hear his grin even though I can't see it. "Earth-shattering, huh? You really know how to break a man down and build him right back up, don't you?"

The sentence gives me whiplash.

"Everett, I—"

"You don't need to explain yourself. I get it, I do. I know how important your relationship is to Liam, and I don't want to interfere with it. If you want to dial things back, that's exactly what we'll do."

Does Everett want something more?

I always thought this deal was reciprocated both ways, but it sounds like he's amending my wishes, not his. If I weren't such a chicken shit when it comes to him, I'd ask, but I'm frozen in front of this stove, my feet rooted to the ground as Everett strides to the left of me to turn on the radio.

"To fill the awkward silence you're making," he says.

"I am not making an awkward silence! It's natural for it to happen after our conversation."

"Right. That's why you're wearing a sad pout on your lips. You're upset with me."

"It's not a sad pout, and Christ, Everett, I'm not upset with you, I'm—"

"That pride will get you every time."

My mouth drops open in shock. Flipping the spatula upside down, I poke the end of it into his chest. "It's not pride!"

He chuckles, crossing his arms over that fantastic bare chest of his. "I would be more upset over this, but it's hard as hell to be mad at you when you're wearing my sweatshirt while cooking me breakfast."

This man knows how to irk my nerves in the best way, and I'm two seconds away from pushing him down onto this floor and riding his cock to shut him up when suddenly, Five More Minutes by the Jonas Brothers begins to play on the radio.

The world is seriously making my life a laughingstock.

Everett's lips twitch, threatening a smile, and it annoys me that he's not more bothered about this than I am. Isn't he worried about Liam finding out? Isn't he scared that one of us will do what we do best and push the other away?

And why the hell is a pop song blaring with the same sentence Everett whispered to me last night?

Even I can't help but let out a soft laugh. "Okay, this is weird, right? It's not just me?" I wave the spatula toward the speaker on the counter.

Everett shrugs, and then he does the last thing I expect him to. The man starts to sway his hips like he did the morning after we first had sex. He's dancing right in front of me, crooking a finger in my direction to get me to come closer.

"I'm officially in an alternate universe," I say, turning just for a second to grab tongs and flip the bacon. "In what world do you dance?"

"In a world where it gets a smile to fall on your face again. Now put those tongs down and dance with me."

"I don't dance." Especially not to a song that seems like it was quite literally made for us, but Everett is still swaying those hips, hand extended out while raising a brow, and it's like a gust of air knocks me out of nowhere, drawing me closer.

The grin I'm wearing on my face is permanently plastered there, and Everett takes the tongs out of my hands to drop them on the counter beside us. "The bacon is going to burn," I add, trying to come up with excuses.

"I don't give a damn about the bacon, Emery." He pulls me flush against his chest, and before I know it, we're spinning around in countless circles in the kitchen. I'm laughing my full head off when he pulls away, allowing me to hold onto his hand to twirl myself, and when I'm back against his chest, with those blue eyes of his softening, I realize I'm a fucking goner. I never had a chance against Everett Holden, not in sixth grade, and certainly not now.

I'm kissing him before I can stop myself, and I know this isn't just a casual kiss. It's much more than that. We're kissing so hard and fast that he stumbles, my back slamming against the edge of the counter, but the pain is more than welcome if his tongue follows it.

He scoops me up into his arms, smacking a hand against the burner beside us to shut the stove off, and then he whirls us around to lay me down on top of the island. "Need you," he mutters breathlessly between kisses. "Right now."

I nod fervently, moaning when he sinks his head between my legs and licks me until I'm seeing fucking stars. My hand is braced behind me, attempting to hold onto something, anything, when I feel an odd sensation on my fingertips. It feels like laminated pieces of paper, and Everett glances up from between my thighs, quickly lunging to snatch the items out of my hand.

"What are those?" I ask, still panting from my orgasm.

He shakes his head. "Nothing."

"It certainly seems like something." I sit up, eyeing the fancy encased sheets of paper, and when he least expects it, I fly off the counter, snatching them out of his hand and racing to the living room. He's quick on my heels but only catches up once I read the headline of the two tickets I'm now holding. His father's charity gala and a fashion auction from none other than his sister, Izzy, who I've looked up to since she graduated and built an entire fashion empire. "Why do you have these? You hate going. You've never gone, Everett."

My heart is racing as he stands a foot in front of me, remaining speechless as he tries to think of something to say. And any thought I had about this casual agreement being reciprocated between us flies directly out the window. He got these tickets for us. He wanted to bring me.

And after our conversation a few minutes ago... No wonder he didn't want me to see them.

"It's just a stupid auction I thought you'd want to see. It didn't mean—" He heaves a sigh, raking a hand through his hair. "It doesn't mean anything, honestly. It was just an idea, and—"

"I'll go," I blurt without a second thought. The way he's so nervous has me wanting to do anything to calm him down. He's never gone to this gala, and because his sister is doing a fashion auction, he wanted to bring me. It's a huge deal, one I won't take lightly.

He eyes me cautiously. "You will?"

"Yeah, I... Everett, this gesture is so thoughtful of you. Thank you."

"It isn't a date," he says, but I can read straight through him by now. He wanted this to be a date, but he's dialing it back because I was panicking less than five minutes ago. "I just thought you'd enjoy seeing the clothes. You know, since you're a fashion major and all."

"Right." I nod and take a step closer to him. He's within arm's reach, and fuck, it's hard not to listen to my thundering heart. The word vomit is crawling up my throat, the one sentence I've refused to admit to myself right on the tip of my tongue, but I bite down on it, holding it at bay.

This needs to remain casual, and I can hold it together for a charity gala. It doesn't matter if he went to the trouble to get tickets. It doesn't matter that for the first time, he's attending the function because of me.

Regardless of how badly my heart protests, I'm going with him as a friend and nothing more.

"What's the theme?" I hardly manage to whisper through my tears. "Doesn't this thing always have a theme?"

He reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and says, "About that... My sister wants you to come by her store. She needs your dress measurements."

Author's Note

Not me crying after this chapter????

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