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“How you are you holding up?” Cash asks.

I grimace. “I’m not going to pretend it’s been smooth sailing so far.”

“No shit?” The hint of amusement is unmistakable. “Are there no good looking women to keep your mind occupied?”

“It’s notthat. It’s worse. There’s plenty of them; I’m just not allowed to fuck any.”

Cash laughs. “Come on, man. Don’t tell me you didn’t see that one coming.”

“Yeah, I did, but that doesn’t mean I’m okay with it.” I sigh and take a sip of my soda. “I feel like I’m being prepared for the end of times.”

“No, Kade, it’s not the rapture. Six weeks are nothing, you’ll see.”

“It still feels that way. Six weeks feels like six centuries for my cock.” I move over to the bar and grab a beer bottle, knocking off the cap. “It’s barely been seventy-two hours and I’m already feeling like a thirsty man in the desert. They won’t even hook me up with a porn channel. Heck, some magazines would do.”

“Why don’t you use your imagination?” Cash asks.

I grimace. “You know me. I’m not particularly good at jerking off, all alone with nothing but my imagination. I may be good at my job, but I’d rather go for the real deal rather than imagine it.” I cock my head to the side. “Maybe I’ve had too many women, but no one long enough to recall a face.”

Or a particular body.

However, last night, when I jerked off, it was her I thought of.

Her face, her eyes. All in precise detail.

She has such a pretty mouth, all soft lips and little freckles on her nose. Of the way she moves, as if she owns the world, and the way she frowns.

Her shoulders are petite and rounded; her skin is the color of alabaster.

She has wide hips, and a tight, perky ass.

Her legs look strong, as if she used to be a dancer. Judging from the way she moves, it sure would make sense. I so would do a dancer right now.

My cock stiffens, reminding me that I’m in desperate need of sex.

“You might be right,” Cash says. “We’ve had far too many women.”

“And it doesn’t exactly help that I have a living arrangements situation.”

“Which is?”

“I’m roomed with one.”

“You’re roomed with one?” Cash asks in disbelief.

“Yeah. “

There’s a short silence. “No way. You’re bullshitting me.”

“I’ve been assigned a new roommate,” I say slowly. “The rehab's freshest meat, for the next six weeks. We’re basically sleeping wall to wall.”

“Get out.” I wince as Cash lets out a roaring laugh. “Oh, shit. You’re serious?”

“Yes, I am,” I say, irritated that my best friend finds my dilemma funny.

“Dude, I’m so glad I’m not you. That sounds like a nightmare.”

“She’s a lot of things. A nightmare is definitely one of them.”