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“But you understand he likes you, right?” Jenna eventually speaks.

Rolling my eyes, I pull open the door to find something for breakfast. “I don’t know how many times I need to say it—Jack and I are just …” The rest of my sentence dies on my tongue when I find a jar of overnight oats, complete with my favorite blueberry compote.

Taking it out of the fridge, I see a note stuck on the outside.

Even if my girl forgot to make her overnight oats, she’d still get them.

Hope they’re not shit.

J

x

“Earth to Kendra?”

I blink a couple of times and come to. “Yeah, sorry. W-what was I saying?”

“You okay?” Jenna asks.

Lifting my cup, I take a seat back at the island and down another sip of coffee as I try to regain my composure.

No wonder Olivia was fucking gutted.

“Jack wants to help me out, and neither of us wants to go to the gala alone. So, it’s a mutually beneficial arrangement.” I finally finish my sentence with a confident pep to my voice.

Jenna blows out a long breath. “So, if you guys are playing this off as real, when does it all end? Right after the gala?”

She makes a good point. I’ve been so caught up on Saturday and Tyler’s reaction when he sees us that I haven’t thought much beyond that night.

“We haven’t talked about that,” I reply.

An unconvinced murmur sounds down the phone. “I will say this, for what it’s worth: if this ‘arrangement’ between you bothis ‘mutually beneficial,’ then maybe you could go after some of the fun you were hoping for with guys.”

“Meaning?” I ask, knowing full well what she’s insinuating.

“Hook up, fuck buddy–style. If he is down for a few benefits along the way, then replace that red wand of yours with Jack Morgan.”

The morning Jenna caught me having fun with Scarlett races back to me, as does the image of Jack hovering above me. My thighs squeeze together of their own volition, and I bite down on my lip.

“I don’t know if I could do that.”

When a key slides into Jack’s door, I immediately uncross my legs and reset myself.

“I have to go,” I whisper-hiss to Jenna.

Jenna chuckles down the phone. “Tell Mr. Morgan I said hi.”

Jack strolls into the apartment and throws down his training bag as he kicks off his sneakers by the door. I’m certain he hasn’t noticed me when he reaches into the pocket of his gray sweats and pulls out his phone. I look on from the kitchen island situated behind him and watch his shoulders drop an inch before he repockets his mobile, and I set mine down on the counter in front of me.

The sound has him whipping around to face me, and his eyes immediately land on the unopened jar of oats.

“You found them then?”

My thighs squeeze again as he walks toward me. His hair is still damp from practice, and his black Dri-FIT shirt clings to every line of his well-chiseled body.

Oats, Kendra. Talk about the oats.

“I totally forgot to make them last night. Thank you,” I tag on.