I relax against the soft mattress, watching him come. There’s no guard on his face now, some combination of tenderness and satisfaction obviously displayed on his handsome features.

I run my hands over his back and into his hair, taking advantage of the final opportunity to touch him. Holden doesn’t move away. I wait for the embarrassment or the shyness, but it doesn’t appear.

He kisses me before rolling away and pulling off the condom. I don’t move. My body feels boneless. Sated and sleepy.

But I force my eyes to stay open. Holden and I are already straddling a strange boundary thanks to our past friendship and how close I am to Sydney.

So I sit up and glance around, trying to locate my underwear and pajamas.

Holden lies down next to me, totally naked. My eyes skate over every inch of him, soaking him in greedily, as if this is the last time I’ll see him like this.

Maybe—probably, it is. His dark hair is messy—from my hands. The rows of abs that were just hovering above me are clenched and defined. My gaze moves lower, to the half-hard dick that was inside of me a couple of minutes ago.

He’s ridiculously hot. The fuel for fantasies. And tonight, he was mine.

“What are you doing?” Holden tucks one arm behind his head. His bicep bulges and my throat goes dry. It feels like I’m becoming more attuned to him instead of less, which is not what was supposed to happen.

“Going to bed. I just need…” I spot my pink thong at the end of the bed and lean forward to grab it.

His free arm closes around my waist, pulling me back against him. I relax automatically, the smell of cinnamon reassuring and the heat of his skin relaxing.

“Stay,” he whispers.

Smart is undoubtedly the adjective most people associate with me. It could be much worse. Of all the things you can be known for, being smart is better than most.

I might be book smart, but I think I’m lacking other forms of intelligence. Because I close my eyes and melt against the boy most likely to break my heart instead of inserting some distance.

This was only supposed to be about the physical. Giving Holden my body is much less risky than handing him my heart.

Can you choose who you fall for?

Or is it called falling because it’s outside your control?

“Holden?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you ever think about this—us—before last weekend?”

“Of course I did.”

“What did you think?”

“I think that you’re better off without me.”

“Don’t you think that’s my choice to make?”

He’s silent in response. Neither an agreement nor a dispute.

“When you thought about it, what was it like?”

“What do you mean?”

“People say fantasy doesn’t live up to reality. So…I’m just wondering.”