IT’S hard to be happy about having the best sex of your life when the guy you did it with is impossibly annoying.

“Look at my neck, Nathan!” I fume, catching my reflection in the mirror when we step out of the shower. I didn’t even think to look last night, but the hickeys are incredibly bold and angry looking this morning, standing out against my neck. “I look like leeches have attacked me! Who are you? Fucking Dracula?”

“I’ll buy you a scarf when I go to Target,” he says nonchalantly, examining his handy work. I watch him in the mirror, the unmistakable look of pride on his face. “Stop being dramatic.”

“Stop being dramatic? If you hand me a scarf, I will strangle you with it,” I shoot back, unraveling my towel to dry myself. “I have to teach kids this morning. Do you know what kids notice? Absolutely everything.”

“You are so full of rage for someone so small and cute,” he teases, kissing the ugly marks on my neck.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” His hand travels across my bare stomach, and he pulls my body close to his. The towel hanging on his hips does nothing to hide how eager he is for me not to go to work. His voice is low and dark as he whispers into my ear. “I want you again.”

“Mhmm. I can tell.”

“Quit your job so we can go back to bed.”

Why am I getting wet from four words?

Why did I consider quitting my job for a split second? Is this what being dicknotized feels like?

“We don’t all have a trust fund, Hawkins,” I say, snapping out of it and wiggling out of his grip, muttering expletives under my breath.

I’m still muttering threats about covering him in hickeys when he ushers me into his car, and he’s still smiling like a fool.

Last night was something else. I don’t know whether it was all the built-up sexual frustration or the excitement of the game, but the man knows how to use his dick for the greater good.

I don’t think I slept. I might have passed out from the exhaustion of being railed so well. This morning when I mentioned the dull ache between my legs as we climbed into the shower together, he asked me could he kiss it better.

And he did. Twice.

“Want me to come up?” he asks as we pull up to my apartment building so I can get changed before work.

I shake my head. “You’ll distract me. I won’t take long.”

The real reason is I don’t have the energy to deal with how Aaron will react if I show up with Nate covered in hickeys.

Thankfully, Aaron is still in bed when I let myself into the apartment. Once I’m in my bedroom, I decide the only appropriate outfit today is something involving a turtleneck. Once my neck monstrosities are suitably covered, I head back down to Nate.

“I wouldn’t be able to concentrate if you were my skating teacher.” Nate reaches over the center console to rest his hand on my thigh, fingers tracing patterns the entire journey to Simone’s. When we finally pull up outside the rink, he turns to me with a hopeful look on his face. “Can I watch you teach?”

“Absolutely not,” I say, hopping out and grabbing my bag. “Thanks for the ride,”

“Stassie,” he yells as I start to close the door. “Can I see you later?”

I reach into my bag and pull out my planner, flicking to October 23.

Work, study, gym, dinner. “No, sorry, I’m busy. Bye, Nate.”

“Stas!” he shouts again, stopping me in my tracks. “What about tomorrow?”

My eyes scan over October 24. “Nope, busy. I gotta go, and if you shout at me again, I will kick your car. I can’t be late, bye!”

I’m not even through the entrance doors before my phone buzzes in my pocket.

NATE

NATE: Monday?

STASSIE: Busy.

NATE: Tuesday?

STASSIE: Busy *thumbs down emoji*

NATE: Wednesday? You’re killing me here, Allen.

STASSIE: You have a game in Arizona.

NATE: Fuck’s sake.

NATE: How do you know that?

STASSIE: Brin—the hockey expert—Allali

NATE: Thursday? You have training after us. I’ll wait for you? STASSIE: I have to go to the mall on Thursday to get a Halloween costume.

NATE: Same.

NATE: Weird coincidence.

NATE: Let’s go together.

STASSIE: *eye roll emoji* Sure.

Weird coincidence, my ass.

The kids seem to be full of extra energy today, so by the time I’m sitting for my lunch break I’m exhausted. I’m trying to decide what to eat when my phone buzzes on the table, and Nate’s name flashes up.

NATE

NATE: Can I pick you up from work?

STASSIE: No need I’ll get an Uber

NATE: That’s makes no sense. Let me pick you up.

STASSIE: You make no sense.

NATE: Only because you fucked my brains out.

STASSIE: Ffs

NATE: 3?

STASSIE: Yeah. Don’t be late! You’ve gotta take me straight home.

NATE: No shenanigans.

NATE: Scouts honor.

STASSIE: There’s no way you were a Boy Scout.

NATE: I was but I got kicked out.

STASSIE: Why?

NATE: I accidentally set Robbie on fire when we were 8 *fire emoji*

As promised, he’s waiting for me in the parking lot when I walk out of work at three p.m. on the dot.

“Hey, firestarter,” I tease, climbing into the passenger seat. He leans over and cups my face with his hand, greeting me with a toe-curling kiss that sends a shiver through my entire body.

I’m trying not to overthink it. I wouldn’t think anything if Ryan kissed me, and this man did filthy things to my body last night…and this morning. I probably shouldn’t be concerned about a little kiss.

“Hi,” he chirps, putting the car into drive and pulling away from the parking spot. “Speaking of starting fires, gimme your planner right now, Allen.”

I clutch my bag to my chest and bat his incoming hand away. “No. Why would you even joke?”

“Because that thing is ruining my week. Why are you so busy?” His hand settles on my thigh, momentarily distracting me. “What could you possibly be doing that means you don’t have any time for me?”

The thigh-holding I can deal with. I can’t deal with the patterns and the occasional squeeze. That shit is making my vagina scream and I’m not sure she’s ready for the consequences of being a horny, little slut…again.

“I don’t know, Nate. Maybe getting an education? Training so I get to fulfill my dream of being on the Olympic skating team? Chores? Meal prep? Working?” His fingers dig into my thigh playfully and I squirm in my seat. “You’ll see me before or after practice and I have Thursday evening free, that’s when I usually hoo—have time for friends.”

Don’t say hook up, Stassie.

“I suppose if it’s to support your lifelong dreams, I could probably find a way to be okay with it. When did you start having such a meticulously planned lifestyle?”

“When I was about nine.”

“Nine?!” he splutters. “You were a nine-year-old with a color-coded planner?”

“Not quite.” It’s hard to know when to start dropping the details of your life in a friendship. It’s not a secret, and it isn’t something I’m ashamed of, but still. “I can explain if you want me to, but it’s maybe a little deep for a Saturday afternoon.”

He squeezes my thigh again, looking over as we roll to a stop sign. He nods, encouraging me. “I’m good with deep.” His eyes press shut. “Not like that.”

Trust me, I know, but that’s a very, very different conversation.

Focus, Anastasia.

“Okay, so I’ve always known I was adopted. My parents are super-loving people. They’ve always wanted the best for me.” Good start. “They put me in every extracurricular activity because they wanted to give me the best opportunities. I started skating and I was advanced, and I kept being more advanced until someone realized, okay, she’s a figure skater.”

I stare at my hands, picking at the corner of my nails. “They told me how proud they were every single day. How I was going to be a star, a famous skater, an Olympian.”

Nate’s hand rubs up and down my thigh gently. “That sounds like a lot for a little kid.”

“I felt this crushing pressure, which now as an adult I realize was severe anxiety, but I loved skating so much, and I wanted to be the best for them.” His fingers thread between mine. “I thought they wouldn’t want me anymore if I failed.”

“Oh, Stas.” He sighs.

“Looking at it as an adult, it’s ridiculous because they love me so much. But I was so scared they’d reject me if I didn’t do well for them, and it spiraled into this intense obsession.”

He doesn’t say anything, which I appreciate.

“I couldn’t explain how I was feeling, and I’d become upset and frustrated, so they put me in therapy. For a good reason, I was becoming a nightmare. Dr. Andrews taught me how to communicate my emotions.”

“And the planner?”

“It started as a therapy activity. I felt out of control, which seems unbelievable for such a young kid. I had to sit with my parents on a Sunday night and write out what I had to do that week.”

“Smart.”

“Three categories. What I had to do, what I’d like to do if I had time, and what I was going to do for me that had nothing to do with school and skating.”

I shuffle in my seat, uncomfortable because I’m undoubtedly oversharing at this point, but he looks over and nods, urging me to continue. “It was a shiny sticker chart thing when I was younger. It made me feel like I could do everything without spiraling, and as time passed and I got

older, it morphed into a planner.” “So d—”

“Please don’t ask me if I know my birth parents,” I interrupt. “I’m perfectly happy with my parents, and I’ve got no desire to go digging up my past.”

“I wasn’t going to ask that, Stassie.” He brings the back of my hand to his mouth, planting a kiss right on my knuckles. “I was going to ask if those ridiculously optimistic quotes you post are something to do with therapy, or if you just like catfishing people into thinking you’re not the most temperamental, bossy, and terrifying woman they may ever meet?”

“Excuse you. I’m not temperamental or bossy.”

Laughing at my shocked face, he kisses my knuckles again. “I feel like the evidence weighs heavily in my favor.” We finally reach my building and he finds a spot away from the normal drop-off area. “Thank you for sharing.”

“Thanks for listening. I know it was…a lot.”

“I can handle a lot. Besides, I like hearing what makes you tick. It’s important for me to be able to be there for my friends, knowing stuff helps, I guess.” My mouth opens to respond, and it’s immediately covered with a large hand. “Do not tell me we’re not friends. We are.”

I nip his palm, causing him to whip his hand away, laughing. “That isn’t what I was going to say.” He pins me with a skeptical glare. “Okay, it wasn’t the only thing I was going to say. I was going to say your friends spent a lot of time convincing me you’re a good person, so whatever you’re doing is working.”

A shit-eating grin spreads across his face. “Did you just admit you think I’m a good person? Did you…compliment me?”

“Oh my God. I’m leaving. Thanks for the ride.”

Nate doesn’t let me leave, instead, he leans over and kisses the life out of me.

Which I let him do. For twenty minutes.

I spend the short ride in the elevator up to my floor trying to regain control of my facial expressions, because I never look this happy after work. Stepping into the apartment, Aaron and Sabrina are both home, bickering about nonsense like normal.

Anxiety spikes in my body when Aaron spots me, immediately looking at me with a strange expression. I drop my bag on the floor and reach for a glass to get a drink. “Hey.”

Ignoring my greeting, he moves toward me and uses his finger to move the fabric covering my neck slightly. It’s that small action that makes me realize it’s slid down. Fuck.

“You need to tell Rothwell to eat a decent meal before letting him near you, Stas.” He scoffs. “It looks cheap as hell. I’m not skating with you at sectionals if you have those.”

“Get off her dick, Ice Princess,” Brin shouts at him from the couch. “Don’t be a little bitch because you’re not getting laid, and Stassie finally gets the hockey hype.”

“Hockey hype?” He looks between us frantically and my heart sinks. “You’re fucking Nate Hawkins, aren’t you?”

Brin’s eyes widen, realizing her mistake.

“It’s none of your business.” It isn’t his business. I’m an adult woman and I can do what I want, but it doesn’t stop me from knowing I’m about to get shit from Aaron, which fills me with dread. Over the years I’ve learned which battles I can win, and ones where he’s already decided what he thinks of someone isn’t one of them. “Drop it.”

“Why do you make such horrible fucking choices? Jesus Christ. It’s like you don’t respe—”

“Finish that sentence.” Brin snarls, storming toward us. “I fucking dare you, Carlisle. Finish that sentence and see what choices I make.”

He huffs and rolls his eyes, stomping away from us in the direction of his bedroom, muttering something about living with women under his breath.

When his door slams shut, Sabrina flings herself at me, suffocating me with a tight hug. “Sorrysorrysorrysorry.”

“Mhm. You will be, Allali.”

THURSDAY ARRIVES and five days after Aaron started sulking, I can confirm he is still sulking. He’s hardly said two words to me since I arrived home from work on Saturday, which works for me, but makes for a chilly living situation.

I’ve kept myself busy and after what I’m calling planner wizardry, I’ve somehow managed to get myself ahead of schedule and free up my time until Sunday.

“Phone away.” Henry doesn’t even look up from his sketchbook as he barks his order at me. “Or I take it again.”

I reluctantly do as he says, tucking my phone back into my pocket. Henry has been my study buddy all week, keeping me company in the library and confiscating my phone when I get distracted by messages from pesky hockey players. Plural, because JJ blows up my phone more than anyone else.

So far, Henry hasn’t done any studying himself, claiming he prefers to procrastinate until the last minute, then study under duress and the feeling of impending doom, but he did draw me as a giraffe, which was nice.

I’m nearly finished with my assignment when I hear Henry’s pencil knock against the library table we’re working at. “You know Nathan wouldn’t abandon you, right?”

“Huh?”

“Yesterday. You said you would be happy to fall in love because I wouldn’t abandon you. Nathan wouldn’t either.”

Like most conversations with Henry, his words catch me off guard, evident by the garbled laugh that sounds a bit like choking that escapes my lips. “It was just a joke, Hen.”

In exchange for a hot chocolate with marshmallows, yesterday Henry gave me a very detailed account of how he would make me fall in love with him if Nate were to ever ruin the chances of him getting laid again. Naturally, my immediate reaction was to tell him I was totally okay with falling in love with him, foolishly adding that there was absolutely no way he’d ever abandon me, so to let me know when the time came. It’s clearly been on his mind.

“You don’t need to lie to me, Anastasia. A nice girl like you isn’t single without a reason, you don’t need to tell me about it, but I wanted you to know he wouldn’t abandon you.” He looks so genuine when he says it that I want to cry. “He’s never abandoned me, and I’m only his friend. He gets to

see you naked and that’s ultimately more appealing. Before you say he doesn’t, my bedroom is right next to his, and you are incredibly loud when you climax.”

I can feel the blood drain from my face. “That’s…good to know. And on that enlightening note, it’s time for us to head to the rink.”

Henry and I pack up our things and head across campus toward the arena. We chat casually, thankfully about topics not involving how I sound when I orgasm. Being friends with Henry is easy; you know what he says is the truth, and there is no sneakiness or backhandedness. This week, that kind of unfiltered honesty has been a huge comfort in the face of tension with Aaron, and I’m more than a little gutted when we arrive at the rink and he immediately ditches me.

Why couldn’t he have been a figure skater?

I try to concentrate on my warm-up and not how hot Nathan looks shouting instructions at his team. By the time I’m stepping onto the ice myself, I’m more than a little flushed, but Aaron immediately puts a stop to that, because his shitty attitude is like being swept up in a blizzard.

“He’s distracting you, Anastasia. You’re being sloppy. Stop wasting my time if you’re not going to put the effort in,” Aaron complains, gesturing toward Nate, who is watching from the stands. Today is the day Nate and I are heading to the mall, and I said he could watch me skate. I knew it was a mistake when I said yes, anticipating Aaron being a dick, but he asked so nicely that I couldn’t say no.

“I’m not distracted!”

The only distracting thing right now is Aaron’s attitude. His movements are tight and sharp, we feel out of sync, and when he moves to lift me, his hands grip me a little tighter than he usually does. It’s frustrating and disorientating, and by the time we’re done, I feel like I need to lock myself away and cry.

The second we finish, he storms off toward the locker rooms, and Nate slowly walks over to me. I don’t even need to tell him; that disastrous session was evident to everyone. We were terrible.

“I’ll kick his ass if you want me to.” His hand cups my cheek and I nuzzle into its warmth.

“If you hurt him I can’t compete at sectionals in two weeks.” “Noted.”

“But if we don’t qualify and you happen to hit him with your car, that’s not my concern.”

“Also noted.” He chuckles, leaning forward to kiss my forehead. I’m sure Brady is lurking somewhere judging me, too, but as I wrap my arms around him and let his calm wash over me, I can’t find it in me to care what she might think.

I mirror his deep breaths, instantly feeling less like I need to sob. “Thank you for waiting for me.”

“Can I make a suggestion about our plans?” he says carefully, tilting my face up to his. “I don’t wanna fuck with the planner, but I feel like the way you feel right now justifies some amendments.”

He’s being so careful with me, so gentle, like I might break. Leaning forward, he hovers an inch from my face, waiting for me to close the gap. “I’m not kissing you until I know the proposal.”

His smile is so beautiful it almost ends me, but I hang on in there, concentrating on putting air in and out of my lungs so I look like a normal human in front of this painfully attractive man.

“Instead of going to the mall, we get your favorite takeout and order a costume online. You can stay over because I bought loads of girly shit from Target on Saturday after I took you to work, and I think a bit of space from Aaron might be what you need right now.”

“You presumed you’d be able to convince another person to sleep with you?” I tease, instantly feeling lighter.

“You haven’t seen how good this stuff is. It makes Henry’s box look like amateur hour. You’ll be begging me to let you stay over.”

“It’s a well thought out plan, Hawkins.”

“It’s a great plan. I’ll even take you home in the morning for a change of clothes and take you to class. Might be my best plan yet.”

I close the gap, pressing my lips to his. It’s hard to remember we’re in public when his tongue rolls against mine. He breaks us apart. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes.”