Chapter 1

"Ineed you to fuck me, Tristan."

The water goes into the wrong hole, and for a minute, I think I'm drowning and about to die … until Allie smacks my back and I can breathe again. "What the hell did you just say, Bun? Did I hear you right?"

Her face goes red, and she gives me a soft smile, her two dimples peeking. "Okay, maybe I should've phrased that a bit better."

"You think?"

She giggles and tucks a stray strand of chestnut brown hair behind her ear, hopping back to the sofa, rolling onto her stomach, and kicking her feet in the air, feeling right at home in my apartment. "Fine. I'll be more polite. I need you to take my virginity."

Allie props her chin on her palm and dramatically flutters her eyelids. She's only wearing a pink tank top and cutoff shorts that, frankly, barely cover anything. Even all the way across from her, I can see the bottom half of her ass hanging out. The worst part? Allie hates wearing underwear. She says it feels constrictive—whatever that means. So I know, without a shadow of a fucking doubt, it's gonna take one careless movement from her, and I'll see her precious pink pussy.

Wrong thing to think about because I can feel my cock getting hard, straining against the zipper of my denim pants. To cover up myself, I prop my ankle on my knee and lean against the leather recliner. "I'm not sure if this is your idea of a joke, but this isn't funny, Bun."

She gets up and sits cross-legged, and it takes an insane amount of effort to keep my eyes on her face. If I stray them even just a tad lower, I'll have visual access to that mighty heaven between her legs. "I'm serious." Allie lifts both palms and raises her brows. "Listen, remember Melissa?"

I nod and take a long swallow of this kombucha concoction Allie made herself. "Your roommate in college?"

"Yes. I saw her at the grocery, and she was with her older brother."

Shit. I don't like where this is going. "Okay."

"We've been texting for a few weeks now, and he just asked me to go out with him."

Spots of red cloud my vision, and my fingers tighten on the bottle. I don't know who this guy is, but I loathe him already. I have to force the next words out of my mouth. "You said yes?"

"I said yes."

Suddenly, the drink tastes funky, my tongue feels too thick, and there's heavy pounding at the base of my skull. My stomach churns, and a mix of anger and insecurity begins to bubble to the surface.

I knew it was only a matter of time before this happened. Allie was the most popular girl back in college. She liked to party, and every guy within five miles wanted to get in her pants. She went out with a few of them, but I could tell they didn't do much for her. How did I know? I might have followed them because I had always been a bit of a masochist. Better know than spend the whole night wondering, am I right?

"And then…" Allie pauses and bites the inside of her cheek. "I don't want him to get turned off by my lack of experience."

The little confession hits me full in the face, and I have to grab the armrest to steady myself even though I'm already sitting down. When she said ‘take my virginity' earlier, it flew over my head because I thought she was playing me. "You're … still a virgin?"

The throw pillow lands on my face and Allie glares at me. "What's with that face? Why do you look so shocked? You think I spent college fucking around? You were there!"

"You didn't do it with Kevin? Or Austin?" Grade A assholes, by the way. Both men didn't deserve to breathe the same air she did, and I would have happily pounded their faces until they left her alone. They did … eventually.

Blush creeps on her face and neck, and she looks away. "No. I didn't like them enough."

The relief is so massive that I can't help the smile tugging on the corner of my mouth. Allie didn't sleep with them. That's good enough for me.

Then, the reason for this conversation pops that small bubble of happiness. The other guy. The current problem. The one she's planning to go out with. The one she wants to impress. Hard enough apparently to ask me, her best friend of more than ten years, to take her virginity.

Allie grabs another throw pillow and hugs it closer to her chest. Lucky pillow. Imagine getting squashed by those soft tits. My idea of paradise.

"So, will you do it with me? Please, Tris?"

Tossing my head back, I close my eyes, trying to make sense of my rioting emotions, trying to gauge how far I'm willing to go. "I don't know, Bun."

"‘Kay. I won't force you."

With a sigh, I cast her an amused glance. "I sense a ‘but' there somewhere."

"But I'll go to every airshow with you if you say yes."

"Damn. I forgot how much you like to play dirty."

Her face splits into that mischievous grin I know so well. "Is that a yes? I mean, I'm good at taking photos and videos. Imagine having professional-level shots while watching the Thunderbirds and Blue Angels. Photos you can print, frame, and hang on your wall."

"You know, you missed your calling as a lawyer."

She giggles again and winks. "So, will you do me the honor of fucking me first? Or do you need me to get on my knees and beg?"

Even as I think about it, I know it's a losing battle. I can never say no to Allie. She can ask me to jump, I'll ask how high. She can tell me to walk over hot coals, and I'll keep on smiling even with blistered and burned feet.

Allie always had this power over me—like when she wanted to sneak into the Seniors' Ball as a freshman or watch the last full show even when her curfew was at 8 PM. I'll always be here and do whatever she asks. If she calls me in the middle of the night and tells me we need to bury a body, I'll show up in five minutes tops, complete with a tarp and a shovel.

It sounds pathetic, I get it. I've been in love with her since I was a fourteen-year-old, pimply, gangly kid who had bigger glasses than my face. Through the years, my skin improved and I gained enough muscles to fight off anyone who tried something funny with Allie. Only the glasses remained.

The day I realized I wanted her more than a best friend was when her cheerleading team won the championship, and, in full view of everyone, she ran to me and hugged me like nothing and no one else mattered. Like I was her whole world. For a moment there, it was just her and me.

Allie must sense she's about to get her way again because she doubles down on her bribery. "I'll even help you find that Air Force flight bomber jacket you've always wanted."

I groan. "Bunny."

I used to call her Bunny because of her two front teeth. She initially thought I was making fun of her, but I liked it. I still do actually. I love her smile. It's pretty, so the nickname kind of stuck.

Allie sighs and begins to busy herself with inspecting her nails, which is funny because she doesn't care about them. She's a potter, so she rarely ever has her nails done. "I mean, you can say no and I'll just ask someone else."

Absolutely fucking not. "Fine, fine. I'll do it."

She smiles deviously.

Damn it all to hell. What have I gotten myself into?

* * *

"Listen,no matter what you say, don't ever comment about her flushed, glossy skin," Allie warns me.

We sit in my car, idling just outside her childhood home. Her ninety-year-old grandma, Lucille, is playing some kind of heavy metal music. "Why?"

"She started using Tretinoin or something, but she didn't know she wasn't supposed to use it every day. Now her face is irritated, so she's irritated."

My mouth curls upward, and I chuckle. Lucille is perpetually irritated. I've never seen her in any other mood. Now that I think about it, I've never seen her smile either. The woman has spent nine decades hating the world.

Allie sees me and grabs my arm, pulling me over the center console and closer to her. She weighs no more than a feather, but I let her think she can manhandle me like this. For someone who stands at a little over five feet, she can be intimidating when she wants to be. "I'm serious, Tristan. Don't laugh or ask about it unless you want her to kick your ass to the curb."

She's not doing anything more than holding on to my arm, but my body reacts as if we've just started foreplay. This is always what happens whenever she touches me, and she touches me plenty, which is why I often find myself in awkward, uncomfortable situations—random erections when she hugs me (she's a big hugger) or kisses my cheek or weaves her arm through mine.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat and nod. "Okay, I promise."

I turn off the car and walk to her side, opening her door and helping her out of my Camry. Just as I reach the doorway and turn the knob, she holds onto my arm and presses her cheek to my bicep.

Ah, fuck. Here we go again.

I try to think of anything to distract me, and the only one that works is seeing Lucille sitting by the dining table and sipping her tea. Allie runs up to her for a kiss on the cheek and sprints to her bedroom upstairs to grab something. Following Allie's earlier instructions, I swing my gaze toward any point in the kitchen except Lucille.

"Good evening, Mrs. Smith." I bow to her, which is a weird thing to do. I am a grown man who's on his way to becoming a surgeon. Hopefully. Yet Lucille still manages to make me feel like that teen with zero self-esteem.

I spot the glass kettle in the corner, grab a mug from the overhead cabinet, and pour myself some tea. It's fucking disgusting, like I just swallowed leaves with soil.

"Tristan, how do you know where to find the mug?"

I turn around to face her, and she eyes me suspiciously above the rim of her cup. "I've been coming here for fifteen years, give or take, Mrs. Smith. I know where things are already. I can find pretty much everything here."

Lucille puts down her cup on the coaster and taps her fingernails on the wooden table. "Do you, now? Then why can't you find the balls to confess to her?"

I sigh. I walked in on that one, didn't I? Yes, she knows I have feelings for Allie, and no, I have no idea how she found out. "I don't know what you mean, Lucille."

"Do not call me Lucille. I'm Mrs. Smith to you. Until you marry my granddaughter, you will only ever address me as Mrs. Smith."

"You told Kevin to call you Lucille," I tell her as I sit on the chair on the opposite side. I try to maintain a safe distance from her every single time. The woman hates me, and if I'm being honest, she terrifies me too. Who knows if she wants to fling that cup into my face?

"Who the hell is that?"

"The football guy who carried Allie home after she sprained an ankle."

Lucille gets this dreamy look on her face, like she's twenty again. "Ah, that hot guy who was as wide as my door. Too bad he was blonde."

"He was also a dick."

"The only thing men are good for."

I choke on my tea. "Gee, thanks, Mrs. Smith."

She waves me off and motions to the door behind her. "A hinge on the bathroom door keeps creaking at night. I need you to fix it for me."

"Maybe it's the ghost of your past coming to haunt you."

"Look at you, cracking jokes, thinking you're funny." She plants both palms on the table and sneers. "You know what's funnier? You still being in the friend zone after all these years."

Damn. This woman is cruel. She really knows how to hit me where it hurts. "Fine. I'll look at it."

Lucille nods like she fully expects me to cower before her. To be fair, it's hard not to get scared around her. Allie definitely takes after her grandmother. "Have I ever told you, Tristan, that I was named after B.B. King's guitar?"

I snort. "No, you weren't. You're older than him."

She points at my chest and scrunches her nose. "Now this is why you don't get anywhere with Allison."

"And yet you insist on calling me for every minor inconvenience. You know I have work, right?"

"Who else would I call?"

"Johnson is right across from you, and he's always waiting for you to notice him."

Lucille scoffs and rolls her eyes. I swear this woman has more sass in her pinkie than anyone I've ever met. "He's younger than me. I don't like younger men."

"He's 85."

"Younger than me by five years. Besides, he walks like his balls hurt."

Where the hell is Allie and what's taking her so long?

"No offense, Mrs. Smith, but you walk the same way."

"Yeah, ‘cause I got brass balls. They're heavy. You wouldn't know."

I finish my tea and massage my temples. "It's not easy, you know, confessing to Allie."

"Hence why you walk like that. You got raisins for balls."

"Can we stop talking about balls? My balls in particular?"

Allie's footsteps thud on the stairs, and Lucille and I both turn to watch her bouncing down the steps.

"Allison, I keep telling you to stop that. Dust from your shoes spread all around, making me cough and sneeze."

"Oops, sorry, Gram." Allie gives Lucille a back hug and kisses the top of her head. "Oh, tea. You have coffee anywhere?"

"You do the groceries around here, young lady?"

Allie bursts out laughing. "I love you too, Gram."

After fixing Lucille's hinges, which are as rusted as her soul, Allie and I head back to my car. I'm about to slide the key in when she taps my forearm. When my gaze lands on her, she beams at me, her whole face lighting up. Her eyes usually change depending on her mood. When she's happy, like right now, they're as light as the sky. When she's angry or frustrated, they darken like the stormy sea.

She twists her long, curly brown hair in a bun and snaps the seatbelt. "It's a yes, right? Should we do it tomorrow?"

This feels dirty, like we're doing something we shouldn't. Like we're a bunch of teens sneaking from our parents, even though we're both twenty-nine-year-old adults.

I like it. About fucking time. "I should take you out on a date first, Bun."

Her smile only gets bigger. "No way. Really?"

"I'd hate for your first time to feel transactional. I'll pick you up at 7."

"What should I wear?"

My hand rests on the hand brake. "You always wear what you want, Bun. Don't change now."

"Where are you taking me?"

"I'll check the weather for tomorrow night. If it's good, let's go for a picnic by the lake. Our secret spot?"

"You're on!"