Eden looked out the window. This felt like a big deal and unlike all her other big deals, Cheryl and Andy weren’t here to weigh in. Then again, was it a big deal? What was she actually agreeing to? Ten weeks of hot sex with an unsuitable guy? That was a Tuesday when she was nineteen. As for being monogamous, she barely hooked up now. This was more sensible than ninety percent of her fuckbuddy arrangements. She glanced at Willow, remembering his raw, pained expression as he came. She put her hand in his. “Let’s do this.”

They shook and Willow’s face split into a gorgeous smile. “You won’t regret this. Also, I think you should come to my mate’s wedding with me.”

Eden frowned.

“Derek Hardiman’s wedding. He’s marrying this millionaire, Mara Kennedy. It’s gonna be a huge deal. You should be there.”

“Oh. Sure, why not?”

They smiled at each other and Eden’s insides churned. What had she just gotten herself into? She pushed her plate away. “I should get going. I have a show at Yah-Yah’s tonight.”

At 1am. But she needed to get away. Clear her head.

“Sure,” Willow said. “Finish your food first.”

“You can’t be serious?”

But he was. He watched her clear her plate while he destroyed everything else on the table. When she was done, Eden did feel better. Nauseous, but more grounded. Willow paid the bill then took her hand as they left the pub.

“Fake girlfriend,” he reminded her when she glanced at him. Eden kept her hand in his. It was becoming easier to do. They walked to the park, her body sluggish from all the meat and veg. She rubbed her belly. "You are a feeder.”

“I promise I’m not.”

“So what do you like?”

Willow’s face stayed carefully blank. Eden grinned. “Let’s make a deal. If we’re going to be monogamous, I want to do one of your fantasies.”

He frowned. “Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent. I want to make something crazy come true for you like you did for me.”

“Okay… I’ll think about it and get back to you.”

“You know what it is already.”

He looked uncomfortable. “Maybe.”

Eden decided to drop it. At least for now.

Willow posted the photo of the two of them at eight that night—perfect for Instagram traffic, Cheryl said approvingly. Willow’s face was turned away from the camera, kissing her cheek. She was smiling right into the lens, looking pretty and fresh. Her dark shadows were gone, and she wasn’t sure if it was the pie, the sunshine, or photo editing. Willow’s arm was around her shoulder, and they looked happy together.

Afternoons with @bunnydescent are perfect, Willow had written. I want a thousand more.

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