Prologue

"You're adorable, but no way."

Those are not exactly the words you want to hear after kissing someone for the first time.

I press my fingers to my lips, keeping one hand curled in his hair.

"No way, what?" My words are a breathy whisper into the space between us.

The party is loud but not loud enough to hide the sound of his heavy breathing. Our heartbeats are like one, and our chests press flush against each other. His hand is still wrapped in my hair from that passionate kiss, and his other hand is around my waist. I can feel his hands all over my body, and I can't get that feeling to stop—that confusing feeling of wanting but still needing to pull away.

"How do I say this?" he mutters, detangling his hand from my hair. He stares at his shoes before meeting my eyes. "Me and you, Nor? It's not going to happen. I know I've joked around about it, but you and Ryan are–"

Does he really think I wanted to kiss him for real?

I lean away from him, but he keeps his hands around my waist, desperate to keep us close. "Oh my god, Wes. I don't want to date you."

"Y– You don't?"

"No."

His eyebrows furrow, his gray eyes squinting. He just stands and blinks at me. He usually has a lot of shit to say, but for once, he's silent.

I sigh and pull myself out of his grip.

I need to get out of here and fast. It's one thing being up at the asscrack of dawn to organize a birthday party for your boyfriend's twentieth, but it's another thing to witness him fucking some girl at said party. It's a whole other thing to kiss your best friend to make him jealous, just for your now ex-boyfriend to not give a shit.

I can feel and hear Wes trailing behind me like a lost puppy. As we get to a stop in the crowd, the music blaring in my ears, his huge hand rests on my waist. Leaning into me, he whispers, "Then what was that about?"

"That was me trying to gain some sort of control in my life," I groan. I turn to him, but what I'm saying clearly doesn't register on his face. I roll my eyes, hating that I have to say these words aloud. "Ryan cheated on me. He's been cheating on me, apparently."

His hand on my waist stills like he's lost consciousness for a second. I blink at him, willing him to say something. He just lets out an agitated breath as he maneuvers us nearer to the crowded kitchen. "Oh, shit. I'm sorry." His voice is low and thick, heavy with a kind of seriousness I never would have expected from my best friend. "I've always hated him."

"Yeah, I know," I mutter.

My brother and all of my friends have never been fond of Ryan Valla. We've been dating since high school, and I was convinced that he was the man I would marry. Since he asked me out with a bouquet of flowers and a CD with all my favorite musical songs, I knew he was the one for me.

Correction: I thought he was the one for me.

We spent every minute of every day together during high school, and then we both got into the performing arts program at Drayton. We knew we were destined to be together. It felt like the world had done us a favor, pushing us closer together until I had pathetic dreams of us co-starring in a lead rom-com one day.

As much as he did things to annoy me – like chewing really loud or talking during a movie – I just thought it was what boys do. I've never had a boyfriend before him, and he made having one seem like the best thing in the world.

Until he didn't.

"Wanna key his car?"

Wes is the kind of person to say the stupidest things in the most serious way. It usually takes me a whole minute of just staring at him to figure out if he's joking or not. Most times, he's not joking, and he really is just an insanely funny and stupid person.

"What?" I gawk, rubbing at my temples. I've had too much to drink, and I desperately want to go home to the comfort of my own bed. And maybe throw in some ice cream, too. Classic sad snack.

"It's the puke-coloured truck out front, isn't it?" Wes asks, pulling out the keys to his car and swinging them around his finger. He's so casual about it, I almost believe he's being serious. The motion distracts me from his idiocy for a second before I shake my head, trying to regain control of the situation.

"Wes, we're not going to key his car. Do you know how much trouble we'd get into?"

He shrugs, brushing past me. "Fine. Then I'll do it."

This time, I'm the one trailing behind him, trying to catch up with him before he does something stupid and gets us both arrested. The party has had a decent turnout – not that it's to my benefit now, and I almost lose Wes in the crowd before he gets through the front door.

The chill hits me when I finally catch up with him. I pull his arm, urging him to turn around to me. "Wesley, I'm not letting you key his car. Do you want to get in trouble?"

He smirks. "I thought that was your middle name, not mine." He leans down, his broad chest obstructing my view. "It was you who got caught having sex in the janitor"s closet last month, wasn't it? Or am I mistaken?"

My whole body tenses at the thought of the shit I used to get up to with Ryan. I was a complete fool for him. Anything he'd ask me to do, I'd do it. He'd tell me to jump, and I'd leap. Every time he'd apologize on his knees with his face between my legs, I'd forgive him. He made me feel wanted, and I was broken enough to settle for what he gave me.

I push at Wes's chest, crossing my arms against my own as he looks down at me with challenge in his eyes. If this guy weren't completely attached to my hip at all times, he would have gone off the rails by now.

I say his name like it's a bad word, with pure and utter disbelief that this is the idiot I chose to be my best friend. "Wes."

"Nora," he purrs. I don't give him the satisfaction of letting him think he won this fight, and I stand my ground. He groans, throwing his head back. "Fine. I'm not going to key it, but he will pay for what he did to you."

I shake my head. "No. He's not worth it."

"Oh, now you realize that," he mocks. I don't even have the energy to glare at him. He shakes his head, swallowing as he shoves his keys into his pocket. "So, what are you going to do?"

"Go home, cry, and sleep," I admit. There's nothing more comforting than those three things right now. I don't even want to face my roommates tonight. I just want to put on the saddest songs from the Les Mis soundtrack and forget tonight ever happened.

"Can I come?" he asks.

"So you can watch me cry? No thanks," I say through a laugh. He blinks at me, his fists closing and opening at his sides like he's debating what he should do or say. I'm not going to stand here and watch his internal overprotective-dude-man struggle.

Before I can say bye and finally get on my way, I turn back to the house to see Ryan running through the door, his shirt a mess, and his jeans unbuttoned. He couldn't even have the decency to look like he hadn't just had sex with someone who wasn't his girlfriend.

"Wait! Nora, please listen to me," he shouts. "I still–"

Fuck it.

I lean up on my tiptoes, curl my hand in Wes's shirt, and press my mouth to my best friend's lips for the second time tonight.