Friend. He came over because he’s my friend. And she shouldn’t ask herself questions like that, because what was the point of them? If he looked at her as if she mattered, if he asked about her day, if he bought her fucking muffins, it didn’t mean a bloody thing. She didn’t want it to mean a thing. In fact, she was already sick of him and his hugs and his kind, steady calm, and she should probably tell him to leave because there was no good reason for him to—
Then Zaf kissed her forehead, her cheekbone, the corner of her mouth. Instead of pulling away, Dani turned her head. Their lips met.
Her heart ached with shy excitement, as if they’d never touched before. The kiss was a chaste brush of lips, barely there, yet powerful enough to dislodge an uncomfortable truth inside her. She wanted Zaf here, and just the act of wanting in itself made her exhilarated and afraid—as if she were falling slowly enough to enjoy the sensation, but fast enough that landing would hurt.
He raised his head, studying her face as if he sensed some infinitesimal change in her. “Dani,” he said, his voice strange—quiet but urgent, gentle but burning. “You do know—you do realize that soon—” He broke off.
Her mind filled in his gaps: Soon enough, all this will be over. We’ll be over. She’d checked the calendar that morning. They had eleven days until their arrangement ended, until everything between them disappeared.
No—not everything. They’d been friends before all this had started, before the video and the fake dates and the deal they’d made. They’d be friends after it. And that was what really mattered, insisted a panicked voice inside her mind: the friendship.
She couldn’t lose him. She refused. He was so dear, he was so—
Dani choked down the words that threatened to escape, swallowing her feelings like a blade. “Of course I know,” she said calmly. “Soon, the symposium will be upon us and I will either tragically fail or reign triumphant.”
“Yeah,” he said after a moment. “Yeah, that’s right. My money’s on triumph, by the way.” He let her go and bent to pick up the Chinese food. “Still shitting yourself over Inez Holly?”
“Absolutely.”
He laughed as he headed to the kitchen. “Well, after we eat, you can tell me about all the prep you’ve done. It’ll be like practice or something.”
Dani stopped walking. “You . . . want to talk about the panel?”
“Yeah. Why not?” He bent to search the cupboards for plates.
“Because . . .”
“Because what?” He found the plates, put them down on the counter, and walked over to her. “Because you don’t think I’m interested?” Their gazes caught, and he shook his head. “But that can’t be right. You know I’ve read your articles. And back when we only hung out at work, you told me about that stuff all the time. You didn’t give a shit if I was bored or not—which I wasn’t, by the way. So that can’t be it.” He cocked his head, almost the-atrically. Something precious unfurled in Dani’s chest at the familiar, teasing sparkle in his eyes. “Maybe it’s because you’re not used to the people you sleep with giving a shit about you. Except that can’t be right, either, because you told me once that you’ve slept with friends before. And honestly, I don’t see how anyone could know you and not give a shit about you, Danika. The way you act sometimes,” he said softly, “I know it must have happened. But I just don’t understand it.”
She swallowed. Hard. “Zaf . . .”
“So maybe that’s it. Maybe you don’t think someone who looks at you the way I do should care about every part of you. Maybe, before, you stumbled across people who only wanted bits and pieces of you. Never the whole package. Never enough.”
Each word tugged her apart at the seams until all she could do was stammer out a nervous laugh. “You’re . . . direct today.”
He looked at her. “Yeah, I am. Know what I was doing before you texted me?”
“No.” Some strange and starving beast inside her wanted to know what he was doing every second of the day, but that was clearly bonkers and possibly the result of a period-induced mental break, so she pushed it aside.
“I was emailing an old coach. Because I decided you were right before, that I should use my contacts to help Tackle It. I think the only reason I hesitated was—sometimes I get these barriers in my head. And I get anxious about what might happen if I cross them. If I don’t stick to what’s safe. But I’ve started blurring lines and crossing boundaries.” His eyes drilled into her, as if urging her to see—to see something. “It was easier than I thought it would be, because it was worth it. What do you think about that, Danika?”
“I think I admire you,” she whispered, cautious pride warring with the nerves thrumming under her skin.
“Then maybe you should try crossing some boundaries, too. If you want.”
She didn’t want to understand him. Didn’t want to know what he meant. Because if she understood, they’d have to talk about it, and everything would be—
Different. Ruined. Over. She’d fuck it up, whatever it was. She was already fucking it up, standing here in silence while his chest rose and fell, and hope died in his eyes. She didn’t know how to do this. She hadn’t prepared or researched or practiced, had nothing even vaguely coherent to offer him beyond a familiar rasp of fear.
But Zaf wrestled with fear every day, and even when he lost, he came away bruised and bleeding because he’d tried. She couldn’t show her pathetic, nameless panic to a man like that. It would be fucking insulting.
The silence between them stretched before Zaf looked away. “Okay, sweetheart,” he sighed. “Okay.”
Dani knew what sighs meant: disappointment, dark and heavy, to
