Page 141 of The Friend Situation

“Yes, after a few conversations, we knew you would be perfect together,” I chime in. My heart swells when I think about them.

“We met weekly to discuss it because neither of you would’ve responded to a planned date,” Weston admits. “You’re welcome. But also, congrats. And thanks for proving us right.”

“I can’t believe this. You’ve known each other for a year,” Lexi says.

“She needs to be rebooted,” I say to Easton. “I think she’s stuck in a loop. And, yes, when the clock strikes midnight, it will officially be a year since I spoke to Weston and bought him a beer,” I answer.

The time flew by so quickly.

“You plannedeverything?” Lexi asks.

“Not everything, but a lot of things,” I explain.

“The yellow roses were actually for Carlee. When you stole Easton’s car and pretended to be him,” Lexi interjects, realization dawning on her. “Wow, okay, you two are pros.”

Weston chuckles at her compliment. His laughter is like home. “It worked out the way it should’ve. That’s all that matters.”

“Now I feel dumb. I thought I’d introduced you at your birthday party,” Lexi says.

I smile. “Sorry about that. But it was adorable.”

“This makes so much sense,” Easton says, shaking his head. “Of course.”

“That’s the first night I saw the look. You’ve felt this way since then. I knew it,” Lexi says directly to Weston.

“What is she referring to?” I turn to him, and he chuckles nervously.

“Enough, Lex,” Weston urges as the limo rolls to a stop.

We get out of the car, and he grabs my hand. A teasing smile plays on his lips as he leads me into the lobby of Park Towers. Lexi and Easton trail behind us, but we’re too locked in with one another to care.

“What is she talking about?” I tease. My heart throbs as we step onto the elevator. He presses the button to shut the door, so we’re alone.

In an instant, his mouth is on my neck.

“You already know,” he whispers, his breath hot against my skin.

“Fuck,” I gasp.

Exhilaration and need wash over me as he devours my lips with a desperate urgency. The doors slide open, and in one swift motion, he lifts me over his shoulder, carrying me inside his penthouse.

“You can’t just pick me up like a caveman.” I laugh, my voice bubbling with joy as my body rests over his shoulder.

He holds my thighs tight, smacking my ass. I yelp, but I love the way it feels.

“Says who?”

“Me!” I retort as he pushes open his bedroom door.

The anticipation of what lies ahead has me in a choke hold.

Carefully, Weston lays me down on the mattress, and I lean up on my elbows, watching my Prince Charming loosen his tie, his fingers slipping the fabric from around his neck, revealing the muscles beneath his shirt.

“Stay right here,” he mutters, his voice low.

I tilt my head, drinking in every chiseled muscle. “Okay.”

The night has been a blur, and I’m living in a constant state of shock, wondering how this happened.

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