Page 97 of The Friend Situation

“A real question: Are you really an extrovert? Or is it an act?”

“It’s not an act. I love being around people, but I love having private moments too,” he replies, his gaze intentionally piercing mine. “How’s your food?”

“It’s so good that I think I want to try other things on the menu,” I confess.

“We’llcometogether,” he offers with a hint of mischief.

“I love the sound of that,” I say, lowering my voice.

“I bet you fucking do.” His messy hair makes him look impossibly charming as he casually digs into a plate of blueberry pancakes.

It’s surreal, being with him like this—at ease when everything around us feels so charged.

I glance away, half wondering if I’m dreaming.

As we continue eating, the conversation flows easily between us like a sweet melody.

“What do we do if one of us falls in love?” I venture, half teasing but also serious.

“With someone else or each other?” He pauses, lifting his coffee cup to his lips, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow.

“I can’t answer that question,” I say. “Just love in general, I guess.”

He sets his mug down. “If our friendship ever feels threatened, we hit pause.”

“You’re right, which is why I don’t think we should cuddle or do relationship stuff.”

He smirks. “So, cuddling and kissing are a weakness for you?”

“It’s not fuck-buddy foreplay. I have to reserve some things for those who I date. Oh, I’d like to also put in a request that I get you when I want you, as long as you’re free,” I add to the terms and conditions, hoping he’s taking note.

He chews on his lip. “That goes both ways then.”

“Great. I think that covers everything I want. What about you? Ready to make the deal?” I ask, holding out my hand to shake on it.

“One more thing.” Weston takes a deep breath, the weight of his words hanging in the air. “Quit your job.”

I stare at him. “Weston, we’ve already discussed this.”

He takes a sip of his coffee, his gaze unwavering. “It’s not for me; it’s for Lux. She needs you to return. Everyone does. I won’t let you forget that.”

I part my lips to respond, then pause. “And if I don’t quit the W?”

“Deal is off the table then,” he replies, his tone more serious now.

Anxiety stirs within me. Somehow, I knew it seemed too good to be true.

My brows squeeze together in confusion. “Over that?”

“Yes.” A smile graces his lips. “I’m putting you first because you refuse to do so.”

“I don’t think I’m ready,” I admit.

The stress of posting again nearly overwhelms me. I don’t know why.

“If you stand on the edge of a cliff and wait until you’re ready to base jump, you’ll never make the leap. Sometimes, you have to just do it or be pushed. And considering how goddamn stubborn you are, I’ve moved to option two.” He lowers his voice. “I’ll be there to catch you, I promise. Every single time.”

Emotions rise in my chest. “What if I want to quit writing?”

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