Sugar

“You have plenty of friends, Avery. Let me be something more.”

“Don’t you get it? You’re my only friend. The others... They don’t know me at all.”

“Well, you don’t make it easy.”

“They don’t know me because I don’t want them to. None of them see inside my apartment, and they don’t know where I go to school or what I do in my free time. You think I don’t open up with you, but you’ve seen more of my personal business than anyone else has in years. I’ll go out with you on one date, but if it doesn’t work out, you have to promise we can still be friends.”

A slow smile curled his lips. “Deal.”

That seemed too easy. “Really?”

“Really. But Avery, this isn’t business. It’s pleasure. There are no ground rules, so prepare for anything.”

I swallowed, fearful he’d do something terrifying like take me skydiving or bungee jumping or convince me to sleep with him. “Okay, but—”

“No buts and no rules, Avery. That’s the only rule. No rules.” He grinned as he shut the door behind him.

What did I just agree to?

15

Avery

“Come on…” I fussed with my uncooperative hair. Up, down, half-up, sloppy bun, nothing looked right.

I growled and threw my comb at the mirror. “Damn it, Avery. Focus!”

It was just a date. A stupid date. I went on four to five dates a week. This was no different.

“I have too much makeup on.” Returning to the bathroom, I scrubbed my face clean and started over.

Halfway through lining my eyes, my phone pinged with a text from Noah.

* * *

You ready?

* * *

Shit. It was almost seven.

* * *

Not yet. fifteen minutes.

* * *

I stared at my phone as text bubbles bounced, disappeared, bounced, and disappeared again. Then I waited another minute, but nothing came.

I didn’t have time to sit there and wait for his response, so I went back to my makeup. The text came through a few minutes later, when I was just finishing up my eyes.

* * *

Time’s up. I’m coming over.

* * *

My gaze shot to the mirror. My hair wasn’t done. If it was staying down, I had to curl the ends or at least add a braid. A knock sounded at the door.

I rushed into the hall. “I’m not ready. Come back in twenty minutes!”

“We agreed on seven.” His voice was muffled through the door.

I took several slow steps to the door but didn’t touch it. “I’m not dressed.”

“Perfect. Let me in.”

I rolled my eyes. “Five minutes.”

“Avery.”

“Please…”

He sighed. “Fine, but your ass better be ready in five. Hurry up.”

I shook my head, not used to that sort of talk from a date. Rushing back into the bedroom, I flipped over my head and roughly brushed out my hair, spritzing it with some product meant to give it a beach look.

I applied a light layer of gloss to my lips and jerked on a pair of boyfriend jeans with an intentional tear at the knee. My cropped, off the shoulder, cream sweater paired with cream stilettos took the look from casual to sassy. I just needed to find earrings.

He knocked again. “Time’s up.”

“I’m coming!” Distractedly, I yanked open the door.

“You’re not supposed to come until the end of the date,” he greeted with a cocky grin. And damn, he looked good.

I rolled my eyes. “I just need to find my earrings.”

“Wait.” He caught my hand and pulled me back to face him. “You look great. I love your hair like that.”

“Th—thanks.” I disentangled my hand and searched the living room for my little gold hoops.

“Are these them?”

Turning, I came up short as he held up the earrings, not ten inches away from me. Why the hell was I so out of breath? I needed to calm the fuck down. “Yes, thank you.”

“You look great. Let’s go.”

As his hand slipped into mine, my brain blanked, and I nearly forgot my purse and coat. “Where are we going?”

“To a tap house.”

“A brewery?”

“Yeah.” His arm curled around my hips as soon as we were inside the elevator, and my breathing suddenly seemed unnatural and out of sync. I had to chill.

My sweater was cropped, and my coat was still in my arms. As his thumb brushed the bare skin of my back, I shivered.

He glanced down at me and smiled. “Ticklish?”

“Not usually.” Nothing about this was usual.

We stepped into the lobby, and he helped me with my coat. “Button up.” He carefully slid each button into its hole. “It’s chilly out there.”

I wasn’t used to him touching me so much or with such casual entitlement, as if we had done this a thousand times before. The instinct to pull away remained out of habit, but as if he sensed my tension, he held tighter each time I thought to put a little space between us.

Winston greeted us at the front door. “I have your car, Mr. Wolfe.”