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“He’s a designer, and so playing for the other team,” Sylvie says with the kind of excitement that’s usually reserved for Prada warehouse sales. “When I complimented him on his work, he asked me to help him create a custom clothing line and even invited me to a runway event as a guest.”

“Oh.” I say, surprised. “So, he doesn’t run around naked?”

The words make it out before I can stop them.

She lets out another laugh. “Hell, no.” Her face lights up as realization sinks in. “Are you saying yours is?”

“Aren’t they all?” I swallow. “Sex addicts, I mean.”

“No. Mine definitely doesn’t take off his clothes more than is necessary.” Her eyes narrow as a soft smile plays her lips. “Looks like someone’s messing with you.”

“He’s not.”

“Well, I hope he didn’t ask you out, because that would be so totally against the rules,” Sylvie says.

Rules.

I forgot the rules.

As if reading my mind, Sylvie frowns. “Don’t tell me you haven’t read them yet?”

“I forgot, all right.”

“You need to read them.” She leans forward in a conspiratorial way. “My counselor told me at the end of my session that they’re pretty strict about it.”

“I broke off my first therapy session, so she probably didn’t get the chance to remind me. Why? What’s the most important rule?”

“You’re not allowed to fuck your roommate. Obviously.”

“Oh.” Obviously.

Kade’s almost naked body pops into my mind.

“Between me and you, I think it’s an experiment.” She drops her voice further. “You haven’t slept with him, have you? Because if you have, you’re both in so much trouble.”

“No, God no.” I let out a sound that remotely sounds like laughter, but it comes out a bit too shrill. Heat begins to scorch my cheeks. I was so close to saying yes when he asked me out.

Too close, and I don’t even know him.

“Vicky?” Sylvie’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts.

I smile at her. “Don’t worry about me. He’s not my type,” I say, my voice a bit too breathy. “Even though he’s funny, easygoing, and…”

Hot.

And built like a rock star god. But he’s still not my type.

Or is he?

Shut up. Shut up.

“He’s okay. Just okay. In a friends kind of way.” I add quickly, “But let’s say someone broke the rules, what’s the worst thing that could happen? Being grounded or what?” I take another sip of my tea and almost choke on it. Now that’s cold, it’s way too spicy and burning my throat.

“Should you decide to break the rules, they’ll transfer you abroad and the treatment will take at least twice as long. I’ve heard they’ll even subject you to control visits afterwards.”

“Oh.”

Sounds like a load of BS to me. I mean, this is a treatment center, not exactly the FBI.