I’m looking at her right now, so unless you’ve grown a beard and a mustache within the past six hours, I take it that she did, in fact, bail on you?

Unfortunately…The guy she’s with has a beard and a mustache?

Yes. He also looks like he’s at least ten to twelve years older than her.

You’re kidding.

Not at all. What are you really doing?

Moping about what pitiful friends I have. (You included.) You?

Getting ready to head home. I was trying to help Josh find a “just friend” friend at the bar tonight.

Did it work?

No. He decided to go for the one night stand option instead. You want some company?

Not really…

I lied.

Well, I do. Be ready in twenty. I’ll pick you up and we’ll come to my place.

What’s wrong with my place?

I would answer that, but it never happened…

I blushed.

Okay. See you in twenty.

I didn’t bother changing out of my pajamas. I put on a pair of old worn sneakers and took a duffle bag out of my closet.

I walked downstairs and stuffed most of the things Nicole had bought inside of the bag.

“You going to a slumber party, Ari?” Heather looked up at me from the counter, smiling. “Aren’t we a little too old for those?”

“No, Nicole stood me up again so I’m going to hang out with Carter for a while.”

“Oh. Well, sorry to hear that about Nicole, again. At least Carter was free tonight, right?”

“Right.” I paused. “I slept with him the other night.”

“You slept with who?” She tilted her head to the side.

“Carter. I slept with him. We had sex.”

“Right…” She put her hand over her chest and laughed loudly. “Like I’d ever believe that! You two are like the cutest non-couple/best friends ever.” She looked down at her work again. “Have fun.”

“I’ll try...” I slung the duffel bag over my shoulder and stepped onto the porch. I was certain that most people wouldn’t believe we’d had sex either; hell, even though I had the memory to prove it, a part of me was still in disbelief.

Carter pulled up just as I was sitting down. Instead of waiting on me to make a move for the car, he walked up the pathway and reached for the duffle bag.

“Are you planning on asking me to move in?” He held it up. “What the hell is in this?”

“Snacks and alcohol, courtesy of Nicole.”

“Well, at least something good came out of her standing you up this time.” He slipped his hand around my waist—sending those familiar, palpable tremors down my spine, as we walked to his car.

We made the short drive to his place without saying much of anything to each other and like always, I adjusted his music from indie rock to soft pop.

I wanted to say something, to laugh and joke about something insignificant, but all I could think about was how badly I wanted to feel his lips on mine again.

“Arizona?” His voice broke me out of my thoughts and I realized he was holding my door open. “Are you going to get out of the car? Why do you always stare into space when the car is parked?”

“Bad habit.” I got out and followed him inside. As we walked down the hallway, we could hear soft moans and groans coming from Josh’s bedroom.

I tried my best to tune them out as Carter led me into his room and shut the door.

“Are you actually going to talk to Nicole about flaking on you this time, or are you just going to let it go like you normally do?” he asked, setting the duffle bag on the floor.

“Honestly? I think I’m just going to stop agreeing to go out with her…She’ll get the point eventually, and maybe then, when she realizes what’s happened, we can talk.”

“Makes sense.” He popped open a drink and handed it to me. “Were you two really planning on watching any of these movies?”

“Why?”

“Because they’re all terrible…” He shuffled through the DVDs. “I know I’m the one who wanted company, but can we bypass the chick-flick thing?”

“In exchange for what?”

“I’ll watch one of your cooking shows in exchange for any of these…When Harry Met Sally? Maid in Manhattan? The Breakfast Club?”

“The Breakfast Club isn’t a chick flick.” I snatched that DVD from him. “I doubt she and I were going to make it through any of these.”

“Good.” He picked up the remote and turned on the TV, flipping it to the cooking channel I was watching before.

The chef had moved on from crème brûlée and was now getting ready to prepare a seven course meal.

Carter handed me the remote and a handful of snacks. “Need anything else?”

“Would you like to take turns painting our nails when the shows goes off?”

“Not at all. Is this a re-run?”

“Maybe. Why?”

“I’m just wondering,” he said, getting in bed behind me. “I wanted to know if I would be able to talk to you during the show.”

“You’re the one who was lonely and needed company. I was just fine.”

“Is that so?”

“Yep.” I turned up the volume. “And even though it is a re-run, and you claim you hate cooking shows, I know deep down you love watching them with me.”

He laughed, but he didn’t say anything else. He pulled me back by my shoulders until I was leaning against his chest.