11. Grayson

Why can't I get her off my mind?

I lean back in the chair in my home office, in the large townhome I share with my best friends. My fingers tap a restless rhythm on the wood, each beat a silent admission of my fixation on the dean's daughter. The thought of having sex with any other girl feels as enticing as a shot of lukewarm whiskey—bland and utterly forgettable. It's her or it's nothing at all.

Damn, what has she done to me?

"Grayson, man, you look like you're solving the world's problems over there." Conrad's voice slices through my thoughts as he strides into the room with an air of something unfamiliar about him. "It's Friday night," he announces, his grin as sharp as the edge of a knife. "Why aren't we out on the prowl?"

I glance up at him, seeing the gleam in his eyes, that unmistakable thrill of the chase. Once upon a time, that same excitement surged in my veins, but now it's like chasing a high I know I won't reach—not without her.

"I'm not really in the mood." I shrug, sitting back further in the chair.

"Is there something on your mind?" He smirks at me devilishly. "Or, rather someone? Brielle, maybe?"

"When you say it, it sounds worse."

"Maybe because you're caught up in a girl you've only fucked once."

"Oh, yeah, let's pretend like you don't want to get in her pants again."

His eyebrows shoot up, surprise etching his features for a fleeting second before he schools them back into the nonchalance I've come to expect from him. He leans back against the doorframe, arms crossed, the picture of ease that belies the keen interest in his gaze.

We've been at this game for years, Conrad and I—side by side, chasing thrills, reveling in the company of women whose names we barely remember the next morning. It's been an unspoken agreement, a mutual craving for pleasure without the mess of emotions. We share moments, not hearts. Laughter, not love. I glance at him, finding an amused spark in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of our history.

"Remember that night in Vegas?" he offers, the corner of his mouth turning up. "Three women, one suite, and not a single care in the world."

"Except for the hangover," I add with a smirk.

"Price worth paying," he asserts with a shrug.

Conrad leans back, the leather of the couch creaking under him. "I've got something lined up with Brielle," he says, a sly grin playing on his lips.

"An arrangement?" I can't help the spike in my pulse.

"Nothing serious, just some…mutual benefits." He tilts his head, studying me with eyes that know too much. "She agreed to one more night in exchange for keeping the whole thing quiet."

"Blackmail?" I raise an eyebrow at him. "I didn't know that was your thing."

"I could have done it without the blackmail, but why waste the time?" He shrugs. "I thought you'd be happy. You're invited."

Having her underneath me again…feeling those lips again…it's a welcome thought, but there's another thought in the back of my head that stops me from being able to fully enjoy it.

"Look, I don't know if this is a good idea," I confess, turning to face him.

"Because she's Jim's daughter?" He arches an eyebrow, a silent challenge.

"Exactly." I exhale, a slow release of breath that doesn't ease the tension knotted in my shoulders.

"So you're telling me you don't want to join us then? Well, that's your decision, but I know I'll be enjoying myself."

"Wait…" I say quickly, eyes widening. If he's not going to stop without me, then why should I miss out? It isn't as if we haven't all already slept together anyway. And as long as Jim doesn't find out…

"Are you two actual idiots?" It's Levi. His entrance is as silent and watchful as ever, and the disappointment in his eyes is obvious.

"Oh, Levi, there's still time for you to join us." Conrad smirks.

"Fuck who you want, but what kind of friends sleep with their friends' daughters? Oh, right, none of the good ones, and when he finds out, I hope you aren't surprised when he fires your ass. Make sure my name doesn't come up."

And then he walks toward the door, slipping his jacket on.

"Where are you going?" I ask.

"I don't want to be anywhere near here."

Levi's shadow lingers even after he's gone, stretching long across the hardwood floor like a cautionary tale. I watch it dissolve into darkness, swallowed up by the dimming light of the room.

"Man's got a point," I murmur.

Conrad scoffs, leaning back into the buttery leather of the couch. "Since when do we listen to the voice of reason?" He runs a hand through his hair. "Just because she's a little off-limits…"

"She's our friend's daughter, for Christ's sake. Off-limits doesn't even begin to cover it."

The silence stretches between us like a taut wire.

"Maybe we shouldn't do this. Look, I?—"

A sharp knock cuts me off. My head whips toward the door. "Who's that?"

Conrad's lips stretch into a knowing smile. "You'll see."

He strides across the room. He reaches the door and pauses, looking back at me with a twinkle in his eye that says he's got the upper hand—and he knows it.

"Ready for our Friday night to get interesting?" His voice is smooth, the words dripping with promise and a hint of mischief. There's an anticipation in his stance, the way he rests one hand on the doorknob, the other casually tucked into the pocket of his jeans.