She gasps in surprise, but her lips soften under mine. Holy fuck, she’s kissing me back.

My head spins and my stomach’s in my throat and it has everything to do with this girl. Her lips are unbelievably soft. So is the skin at the nape of her neck, which I’m stroking with my thumb. I pull her closer to me, wanting to feel the full weight of her. My tongue dives through her parted lips and touches hers, and that’s when she shakes out of my grasp.

It’s over so fast I don’t even have time to blink. Disappointment crashes over me, summoning a low curse from throat. “Why’d you stop?” I practically groan.

“Because I don’t want this,” she says hoarsely, backing away from me. “I told you, I don’t have time to date. I’m not interested.”

“You kissed me back,” I point out. My pulse is still racing from that boner-inducing kiss.

“Moment of weakness.” Her breathing sounds labored. “I don’t know how many different ways I can say this, Easton. I don’t want to go out with you.”

I swallow my frustration. I don’t get this girl. Why kiss me back, then? Moment of weakness? Screw that. She likes me. She’s attracted to me. So why can’t we just do this?

Do what? a voice in my head taunts.

That gives me pause, because…what do I want here? To sleep with Hartley or to actually date her? I was planning on playing the field for my senior year, didn’t want a girlfriend tying me down. There are plenty of girls I can sleep with, but I’m drawn to Hartley in a way I haven’t ever been drawn to another person. There’s something about her that makes me happy when I’m with her.

A crazy idea occurs to me.

“How about if we’re friends?” I ask slowly.

She looks startled. “What?”

“Friends. It’s a seven-letter word meaning individuals who have a mutual attachment.”

“I know what it means. I just don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“I’m saying we should be friends. Since you’re not interested in me and all.” I wink. “It’s either that or I keep hitting on you and trying to kiss you.”

Hartley makes an exasperated noise. “Why does it have to be either one of those? Isn’t there a third option?”

“Nope.” I offer a crooked grin. “Come on, Hartley Davidson—”

“Hartley Davidson?”

“I’m workshopping nicknames for you. Best friends give each other nicknames.” I shove my hands in the back pockets of my jeans. “Honestly, I like this idea. If we’re not gonna hook up, we might as well do the friendship thing. I’ve never really had a close female friend, so this would be a good experience for me.”

Hartley sinks back down onto the couch. “From what I can tell, you have tons of friends.”

“I don’t,” I blurt out.

Almost immediately, I’m hit with a rush of guilt, because what does that make Ella and Val? My brothers don’t count—they have to be in my life. I do consider them friends, but blood has a way of binding you to someone, taking away your choice in the matter. I chose to be friends with Ella and Val.

So I correct myself, saying, “I have some friends. But I want another one. I want a Hartley Wright.”

She rolls her eyes. “Is this the part where I say I want an Easton Royal?”

“Yup.” I grow enthusiastic. “We’ll hang out after practice. Do our calculus homework together. Not gonna brag, but I’m pretty good with the school stuff if I want to be.”

“The school stuff,” she repeats dryly.

“Yup. Fact is…” I hesitate and then confess, “I’m kind of smart.”

“I know.” She stretches out her legs, flexing her toes.

“You do?”

“Yeah. The notes you wrote out are pretty amazing. Only someone who really understood the subject could explain it like that.”

“Huh.”

“But you enjoy playing dumb, so I won’t ruin it for you.”

“I’m not playing dumb, I’m just not…interested. School’s a drag.”

“If I agree to this—”

I break out in a grin.

“If I agree,” she says, stern this time, “there will be some rules.”

“Hard pass. I don’t do rules.”

She smiles sweetly. “Then I hard pass on this friendship.”

I grumble under my breath. “Fine. Whatever. Let’s hear the rules.”

“You’re not allowed to try to fool around with me.”

“Fine,” I say with a nod, because I already said I wouldn’t.

“You’re not allowed to flirt.”

“Negative. That happens naturally and I can’t stop it.” I hold up my hand in compromise. “But if I do it, you’re allowed to tell me to stop.”

“Fine.”

“What else?”

She thinks it over. “No sexual innuendo.”

“Impossible. Also comes naturally…that’s what she said.” I sigh. “See, you’re asking too much of me. My counteroffer is that you ignore any and all innuendo. My dad always says if you don’t give something your attention, then it didn’t actually happen.”

I can see her fighting a laugh. “Your dad says this. Really,” she drawls. Her voice is full of skepticism.

“Uh-huh. Or maybe it was Gandhi. Someone smart, anyway. We should have a handshake,” I tell her.

She arches an eyebrow. “A handshake.”

“Yeah. LeBron James has a special handshake for each one of his teammates. That’s how you know they’ve bonded. Let’s do one of those.”

“I’m never going to remember some complicated handshake. I vote for a song. You can sing me a song every time we meet.” Her eyes drift shut.

Poor girl is so tired. I grab a blanket draped over the back of the sofa. “I already told you I’m tone deaf,” I remind her as I drape the blanket over her legs. “But what song do you propose?”

She draws the cover up to her chin. “I was kidding.”

“I’m up for any challenge.”

“I’m learning that.”

“If songs and handshakes are out, we’re down to a secret knock.”

She doesn’t respond. I watch as her chest rises and falls in a slow and steady pace. I slide off the sofa and pull her legs up onto the cushion I abandoned. She doesn’t wake up even after I stick the pillow under her head and cover her with a pretty quilt I find carefully folded on the floor next to the sofa.

As much as I want to stay, I know that Hartley would prefer to wake up by herself. So I let myself out.

I don’t know why I latched onto the idea of being friends, but it sits right with my gut. I want Hartley in my life and if being friends is the way that happens, then friendship is what we’ll have.

It’s different, but maybe that’s not a bad thing.

Chapter 10

Me: Where u at, BFF?

Her: We’re not best friends

Me: U agreed!

Her: To FRIEND. Not BEST

I grin at my phone as I walk down the hall of the arts building that’s tucked away on the east side of campus. I’ve never actually had any classes here. I’m not too creative.

NEway, I text back, where u at?

None of your beeswax, Hartley replies, punctuating the message with a smiley face.

“It’s a good thing I know your schedule,” I say aloud. “Morning, sunshine.”

Hartley jumps in surprise as I approach her from behind. She was about to walk into one of the music rooms, but now she spins around.

“What the hell!” She makes the cutest little growling sound. “No way, Easton. I only get three solo practice hours a week and I’m not letting you spoil it! Go away.”

I mock pout. “But I was so excited to hear you play the…” I slant my head. “What do you play again?”

“Violin,” she says grudgingly.

“Fancy.” I reach around her and open the door. “Let’s go.”

“You’re really going to listen while I practice?”