Page 52 of The Friend Situation

I keep most of my body submerged and study him while treading water.

“You would,” I say.

“I’m not sure what I’d do in that situation,” he admits. “I haven’t been with anyone since Lena.”

I study him. “That’s over a year.”

“You sound shocked,” he mutters, swigging back the liquid.

“Every date you’ve been on has been a decoy?” It’s still hard for me to process. I’m still searching for reassurance.

“When I filed for divorce, I made a pact with myself. One I will not break for anyone.”

My eyes twinkle with curiosity.

“LadyLux once wrote that I rushed things with women, and that’s why I’ll never be happy or find real love. I think she suggested I get to know someone first.” He glares at me incredulously.

“Okay, I did say that. But I don’t get how it’s relevant.”

“I require one year of casual dating before sex. Relationship building first. Physical second,” he admits, completely vulnerable.

“Jesus, Weston.” I scoff. “No woman will want to waitthatlong to be with you.”

“You’d be surprised,” he says with a brow lifted. “A year of getting to know someone isn’t that long when you’re discussing forever.”

“This is a joke, right? You’re Mr. Playboy. Fuck ’em and forget ’em. Bag ’em and tag ’em.”

“Not anymore. Now that sex is out of the picture, other things hold more weight. Like conversations,” he says.

I shake my head. “Well, I wish you all the luck in the world. And I’m sending prayers for whoever you date next. Poor thing is going to be so sexually frustrated, especially when you look like this.” I shiver from the cold and smile. I’m sexually frustrated, and we’rejustfriends. “I’m happy though. That means things with us will stay the same for at least a year.”

My eyes trace over the ink on his shoulders and arms. I don’t want to think about the things I’d do to him if we weren’t stuck in the friendzone.

“Your tattoos are fascinating,” I say, moving closer to him.

I’ve only ever studied them in photos. It’s not lost on me this is the first time we’ve actually been alone.

“Easton drew them,” he mutters as my fingers tracing over his biceps.

“It’s beautiful that you’re decorated with your brother’s artwork. And before you say anything, I know they’re different,” I offer, grabbing his hand and pointing at the tiny diamond above his wrist. “This is the one I always look for in photos to see if it was you or Easton. And the diamond on your right elbow.”

“Really?” He searches my face.

“They’re the most recognizable to me,” I whisper, knowing it’s not something I’ve shared with him before.

The cool breeze wraps around us, soothing and refreshing as the warm water encapsulates us.

“If you could have any wish in the world, what would it be?” I ask, the intimacy of the moment inviting more vulnerability.

“I can’t say, or it won’t come true,” he replies.

“Oh, come on. I won’t tell. I’ll keep your secrets.”

He shakes his head, staying strong.

“Can I take a wild guess?” I plead.

“I’ll allow it if you tell me when you’ll write and publish again on your blog,” he counters, a challenge in his gaze.

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