Page 74 of Friends with Benefits

“Theodore.”

He rolls away from the sound of her voice, so she stands and launches a pillow at him. It flies past Theo and connects with the ceramic vase on the end table. It shatters on the floor. Shit. Theo’s eyes pop open and he sits up. Blinks, then reaches for his glasses.

“Were you aiming forme?”

“Shut up.”

She cleans up the mess she made, searching the ceramic pieces for a maker’s mark and hoping that its origin is HomeGoods. Nope.DEVis scrawled on the underside of the base. When Dr. Dev Kumar isn’t learning how to save lives, he is apparently a master potter. Cool. Great job.

Theo gapes at his phone. “It’sten?”

“Yup.”

“I set an alarm.”

“Me too.”

She uses the bathroom. Reads the string of texts from Aunt Mir on the toilet. Evie meant to attend tonight’s Shabbat service, so she should feel bad about sleeping through it. Embarrassed. Furious with herself. Anything but what she actually feels when her aunt immediately respondssee u tomorrow!to her franticso sorry!!text.

Relief.

Theo’s still on the sofa bed when she reenters the room, sitting upright and reading on his phone, his legs folded likea pretzel. Evie must still be half-asleep delirious because she wants to climb onto his lap and wrap her legs around his waist. She blinks the image away just as he looks up at her and rakes a hand through his hair. “Hungry?”

She isn’t.

But she nods, just to get out of this room.

Away from this bed.

She doesn’t consider that it might be more dangerous to go outside, to experience New York with Theo at night. Just rebundles. Steals his beanie. Then follows him down Myrtle to Alejandro’s, a tapas bar that he used to frequent with dim twinkle lights, live music, and cheap margaritas. It’s a mediocre sound setup, feedback crackling the speakers in the middle of a Radiohead medley. Theo holds out his hand, and because bodies are everywhere, she takes it. They weave their way to the bar, where someone who just finished garnishing a margarita looks up, their eyes widening the moment they connect with Theo’s.

“Cohen?”

Duties abandoned, the bartender ducks under the bar to embrace him. Evieknowsshe knows them, but can’t immediately place this person who has tattoos covering both arms and an impeccable handlebar mustache. Until she recognizes the heart-shaped mole under their left ear, the ear that she once whispered filthy things into.

His eyes shift toward her. “Evie.”

Evie needs a drink.

Right now.

She nods a quick hello, then orders a round of tequila shots and pivots to claim an empty high-top table, her heart thrumming in her ears becausewhat the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck. It throws her more than she wants to admit, eye contactwith a sloppy hookup. Sex that only happened because she was hurt. Because she wanted to cause hurt in the moment. The next morning, Theo was making eggs when she emerged from Topher’s bedroom.Morning, he said. So unfazed. Evie wasn’t sure what was more mortifying. That she fucked his roommate to hurt him. Or that she fucked his roommate… and itdidn’thurt him.

Theo joins her at the table.

Topher, too, balancing four tequila shots. “I’m taking a fifteen. Second round is on the house.”

Cool.

Be cool.

Evie takes a shot.

Swallows the shame of a stupid, near-decade-old mistake while they catch up like adults. Because they are adults. She loosens up after the second shot. Throat warm, Evie leans in, rests her elbows on the table, and learns that the uptight business bro that Topher James once was is no more.

“Alé hired me to do the books while I was applying to be a corporate slut, then tricked me into running the place while he snowbirds in San Juan. It’s cool. The old bastard deserves it. And I kind of love it? It’s not corporate slut money—”

“Hedge-fund analyst,” Theo translates for Evie, his breath tickling her ear.

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