Page 40 of Fourth and Long

“Cam is my best friend and I sleep with him.” She makes a noise. “Although, I guess we aren’t the best example, because I slept with Cam about an hour after I met him. I did a photoshoot with one of his clients, and when we took a break, Cam and I banged in the bathroom.”

I rub my forehead. “I can’t believe you.”

I mean…I can believe it about her and Cam, but not that she thought Slater and I would click.

I kind of hate that she ended up being right—I do like him. And I would like to sleep with him.

But he’s Slater Jones, and no matter what Kelsey thinks, he treats me like a friend. Other than acting weird when I lied about having a boyfriend, he hasn’t given any indication that he’d like to be more.

It isn’t like I can ignore that he was very adamant when he told me the concert was not a date.

She sighs. “Please don’t be mad at me. I really do think you two are perfect for each other.”

I can’t stay mad at her. “I like Slater. And I can admit he’s attractive. But you can’t do things like this. It’s manipulative and—” I groan. “I have to tell him the truth.”

And then I have to stop hanging out with him. It’ll be weird now.

“Or you could tell him he’s hot and ask him if he wants to sleep with you.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re the worst.”

“No. I’m not. I’m the best.”

I groan again. “I’m going back to sleep.”

“Love you,” she sings.

“You, too.”

We hang up, and I lie in the dark for a long time before I fall back asleep.

An indeterminate amount of time later, I crack open my eyes to discover a grey, dreary day. The snow has stopped falling, but the swirling winds keep the streets white. The apartment is silent. I’m quite familiar with Slater’s tendency to sleep for half the day, so I’m reasonably optimistic I could slip out before encountering him.

I can’t leave yet, though, because I have to confess that I’m in his apartment under false pretenses. I shimmy into my—thankfully dry—jeans and slip out of the room.

Slater’s door is closed. I tiptoe toward the stool where I left my things, stuff my concert shirt into my bag and then rifle through it for some ChapStick.

“You’re still wearing my shirt,” Slater says.

I nearly jump through the ceiling, spin around, and then freeze.

His shirt is warm and soft, and I couldn’t convince myself to part with it. He, on the other hand, had no such trouble. His chest is bare, and his sleek muscles are glistening with sweat. My mouth waters. It’d be best for my sanity if I stopped seeing him shirtless. Why does he have to be so gorgeous?

“I’m…uh…just borrowing it.”

“You were leaving.” It isn’t a question.

“No, but I was being quiet because I thought you were sleeping.”

“I couldn’t sleep. I’ve been up for hours.”

He does look tired. Why couldn’t he sleep? “Your guest bed is very comfortable.”

He nods slowly as he moves closer. My eyes dart away from him. It’s better for us both if I don’t look. The last time he was half naked in this apartment, Celeste provided a much-needed buffer. Too bad she isn’t here now.

“You were working out,” I say to the windows.

“Yep. I was kind of hoping I could convince you to make breakfast.”