Page 68 of Friends Don't

I close my eyes and say a quick prayer for dreamless sleep to overtake me ASAP.

But it’s hopeless. My thoughts are totally and completely caught up in all things Mack.

20

A T-shirt's Worth a Thousand Words

Mack

Isleptlikegarbage,so I’m stress cooking.

I know what you’re thinking, and no, I’m not making mac and cheese. I can whip up a mean batch of homemade pancakes.

So yeah, though the sun hasn’t risen, I’m in my kitchen…making breakfast. I’ve got my AirPods in, and I’m blasting Taylor Swift music.

Don’t you dare judge me. The woman is a genius, and the lyrics to “Nothing New (Taylor’s Version) (From the Vault)” will forever wreck me.

I said what I said.

(If you want to go give it a listen, I’ll wait.)

Anyway, I have my griddle out and the first batch of pancakes poured onto it when I spin around, doing a little two-step to the particularly bomb bridge of “Mr. Perfectly Fine (Taylor’s Version) (From the Vault),” and drop my wooden spoon.

Poppy is standing in the doorway to the kitchen, squinting at me with a goofy grin on her face. Her hair is in its usual ponytail, but it’s mussed from a night of sleep. Her hands are on her hips, and her head is cocked to the side as she observes me. And she’s wearing my t-shirt.

I repeat. She iswearing. My. T-shirt.

I’m frozen at the sight of her. I haven’t said a word. I can’t form a coherent thought beyond…Her.

Wearing my t-shirt.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything that took my breath away like this. I’m light-headed and have to coach my lungs.In. Out. In. Out.

There we go.

I take a deep pull of air. “Morning.”

“Nice moves.” Poppy motions to me and assumes her position on the same stool she was sitting in last night before bed—when I lost my mind for a couple minutes and flirted with her.

I couldn’t help it. One second, we were talking about work, and the next second, she called me handsy and got all flustered.

Her cheeks kept turning a deeper shade of red, and all I wanted was to kiss the stunned look off her face when I tucked her hair behind her ear.

But I didn’t.

Because I have self-control, and I know better.

She sees me as a brother.

She’s Holland’s ex.

She’s leaving town.

If that all isn’t enough, I would never drag her into the muddied mess of my reputation.

Even if there was a small possibility she saw me as something beyond a friend.

Which she doesn’t.

---