The offer was written all over her, a silent plea for me to take what was being offered.

For a second, I let myself imagine it—my hands in her thick, dark hair, gripping her hips, lifting her small frame against me, the sharp gasp when I finally put my hands where she wanted them, the way her fingers would tangle in my shirt. The thought made my blood run faster, a reaction to the idea of finally feeling the warmth of a woman’s body.

But then again…

I’d rather fuck my math textbook. At least that would give me some kind of stimulation. And besides, when I pictured a girl tangled in my sheets, she didn’t have brown hair. She had blonde hair. Blue eyes. And a name that I couldn’t say without feeling like I was bleeding from the inside out.

A meaningless hookup wasn’t worth my time, not when the only girl I actually wanted had a hold on me that I couldn’t shake. The realization was disappointing. More than that, it was frustrating. If I had it my way, I’d let my mind wander elsewhere, let someone else’s hands make me forget.

If it were up to me, I’d be imagining this girl, or any girl, and taking the out she was so clearly offering.

But my brain didn’t work like that. Attraction should have been simple, interchangeable. But obsession was a different beast entirely. It latched on with sharp teeth and refused to let go.

“Blake?”

Sydney’s voice pulled me out of my head, snapping the thread of thoughts tangled too tightly around Beverly. I blinked, refocusing on her face—hopeful, expectant—but the fog of my thoughts refused to clear.

I exhaled slowly and glanced down at my watch. 4:18 PM.

I pushed Beverly’s pink scrunchie higher up my arm, letting the elastic bite into my skin. “Can’t stick around,” I said, already backing away. “I have to pick up Beverly from dance class.”

Scott’s brows lifted, and he gave me an incredulous look. “Blake, seriously? It’s just dance class. How about I pick her up instead? That way, you can get to know Sydney a bit. Help her lift something. Make sure her form is nice and…tight.”

Sydney let out a small, breathy laugh.

It faded when I didn’t react.

I shook my head, not even entertaining the offer. “I haven’t seen Beverly in four hours and forty-two minutes.”

Scott made a face. “And?”

“I can’t wait another hour.”

Sydney tilted her head, watching me with curiosity. “Is she your girlfriend?” she asked, trying to sound casual, but the hint of disappointment in her tone was obvious.

Scott snorted. “His sister,” he corrected, shaking his head in disbelief at my complete and utter lack of interest in the girl standing in front of me.