Page 130 of The Friend Situation

“No,” I say quickly, the word slipping out before I contemplate the implications.

“Listen to yourselves. That’s not logical.” Easton narrows his eyes at me, clearly unconvinced.

“Don’t you start,” I warn, shaking my head. “You and Lexi were so annoying with thedo we, don’t we. You need to stay out of it.”

I step forward, grabbing his arm and steering him toward the door. I guide him out and shut the door firmly, rotating the dead bolt with a decisive click.

“I’m telling Lexi,” Easton calls through the crack before he smugly struts away.

“No one has ever stood up to him like that.” Weston bursts into laughter as he moves toward me, pulling me into his arms.

The attraction between us is undeniable as our lips almost meetin a kiss. We don’t commit, and I pull away, meeting his gaze, my heart racing in my chest like a runaway train.

“This is easy,” he whispers.

“That’s how it should be, right?” I reply, finding solace in his touch.

“What are we doing, Carlee? Just truths.” His voice takes on a serious note, and I sense the weight of the question hanging between us.

“I don’t know. We have to keep our promise. One of us has to save our friendship if it starts to go downhill, okay? I might not be strong enough,” I admit, vulnerability spilling from my lips, my throat tightening. “I don’t want to lose you.”

He licks his lips. “Just promise me, if you decide I’m not enough, you’ll tell me, even if it hurts, because I want you to be happy. No matter what.”

“Weston,” I whisper, gripping his face gently and smiling up at him, “you’re more than any woman ever deserves.”

“Just promise,” he urges, the intensity of his gaze almost stealing my breath.

“I promise,” I repeat, rolling my eyes, “but you’ve checked every damn box and made me add a few extras.” I laugh as my fingers pinch his butt. “If we don’t leave now, I might decide I’m sick. And you won’t be able to go either because you have the only thermometer.”

With a cheeky grin, I glance down at his crotch and waggle my brows, delivering my best fake cough. I needed to lighten the mood, and he appreciates it.

He chuckles, a warm, rich sound. “Please don’t ever change.”

“Please don’t make me,” I reply, fully aware that I’ve shown Weston the rawest version of me that exists.

“Never. We should go,” he says, and I follow him out.

As we descend in the elevator, a familiar song plays overhead. Weston takes my hands in his, pulling me close, and we begin to dance, swaying to the rhythm in the cramped space before thedoors open. He dips me down, his face inches from mine, almost kissing me. Our breaths mix and …

“Weston!”

I hear a high-pitched voice echoing in the elevator. I look up to see the woman from last night. Harper.

Weston pulls me to my feet.

“Shit, I’m so sorry about last night,” she says, sincerity wrapped around her words.

Weston takes my hand and guides me out of the elevator, the warmth of his touch lingering on my skin.

“It’s fine. Just don’t let that shit ever happen again, or I’m telling Billie what you told me,” Weston warns, his tone light but firm as he steers us away from her.

Harper groans in exaggerated embarrassment, and I turn to look back at her, mouthing an apology. She shoots me a wink and nods—anapproval of us.

“I like her,” I say as Weston leads me through the elegant foyer of The Park. I appreciate the luxurious ambience of the space.

“Be careful,” he warns, his voice low and conspiratorial. His breath tickles my ear. “She gives love prophecies that come true.” He glances at me, a smile tugging at his lips.

“You’re making me blush,” I whisper, and our eyes lock.

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