Cue the Zoey word vomit.

"Did you bring condoms with you?" her falsetto voice floated through the air.

Jesus Christ. "No, I didn't. Thank you very much."

She nodded, facing forward while changing lanes. "That's fine. We have to get tested all the time and I think Tristan, I mean Robby, always wears a condom—"

I couldn't help the way my neck tensed at the mention of Robby and his dick's doings. Who wants to imagine that the person they have feelings for, the person who likes to snuggle on the couch, and gives soft kisses, had also created a career out of having sex with women who had monster tits and bleached assholes? Not me. I knew that it was only because of my unconditional love for Zoey and my decent amount of self-esteem that I was even able to sit in her car on my way to a weekend of fun and porn conventions.

Zoey sighed so deeply it seemed like she had held in each breath that she'd taken the entire morning. She turned to look at me for a split second, a soft smile and a wink on her face. "I think it's really cute you two haven't jumped the gun. I mean, I want you to get some sooner than later but I'm glad you're taking your time, KAB."

"Thanks, Zo," I told her, reaching across the console to pinch the skin on her forearm. "I'm not doing it intentionally, he hasn't pushed and I haven't either."

The wistful look on her face before she nodded in understanding tugged at me, as she pulled her car over to the curb at the airport drop-off section. I was out of the car and yanking out my small carry-on suitcase from her trunk before she threw her arms around me as she told me to have a good time.

I turned around to find Tristan standing at the massive sliding doors with his duffel bag at his feet, grinning like the idiot he was. He threw up a hand to wave me over and in no time, we had checked into our flight, dropped off his duffel bag for check-in because of that damned hair dye, and fought over who got to roll my suitcase around since I refused to let him pay money to check it in. "You're such a pain in the ass," I muttered to him once he snatched the handle of my suitcase away from me, starting to drag it down the wide corridor toward our gate.

"Your short legs are kind of a pain in the ass," he snapped back with a snort.

"Three-fourths of the population has shorter legs than you do, ass. Quit walking so fast!" I huffed, taking quick steps to catch up to him.

He turned to look at me over his wide shoulder and grinned, switching his hold on the handle from his right arm to his left. He held his now empty hand out just a few inches away from his body, but with his fingers extended wide and close to me. I stared at his digits for a few seconds while trying to decide whether or not he was holding it out for me, or not, but those green orbs flickered up to my own. All I could see was some strange emotion that rivaled fear or maybe indecision staring back at me.

My hand slipped up from its spot on my side over to clasp onto the tips of his fingers. He grinned at me, entwining our fingers together. We walked together silently until we reached the terminal, plopping down on two seats to wait for our flight. "What do you want to do when we get there?" he asked, leaning over the armrest between us to speak directly into my ear.

He was so hot it was ethereal. He was perfect with his sharp jaw, straight nose, full lips, and bulging bicep muscles tightening the material of his flannel shirt. I deserved to win an award for managing to focus in his presence. "Let's drive down Hollywood?" I suggested trying to talk coherently, while his thumb brushed small circles over the webbing of skin between my own thumb and index finger.

"Whatever you want, goldie," he said with a smirk.

I should have quit being a pussy and told him that he was what I wanted. For that moment. Forever. Whatever. I didn't though, because I was scared. I knew we needed to talk and determine exactly what we were, because I hated the feeling of indecisiveness and freedom between us since there weren't any words that had cemented us together. For all I knew, he might have been into the idea of an open relationship, which would kill me inside, but then I remembered that he admitted having punched the wall out of jealousy, so he couldn't really be into that idea either.