Whether it was discovering his love for Cats or his passion for a very specific kind of T-shirt, there was always another facet to him that I found fascinating. His love for his mother, his tenderness in caring for her, his excellent breakfast-making talents, and his vibrantly green thumb.

Then there was the way he made love—able to unravel me with a single touch, making me come undone over and over and over again, only to put me back together with a soft kiss and a gentle caress.

Just friends, I reminded myself as I waved down the bartender. Just fucking friends.

I gave my order to the cheery bartender, who danced to the Ariana Grande song as he poured vodka into a brass cup from an impressive height, the liquid flowing down like a clear waterfall. The guy next to me grabbed his cherry-red drink and turned to leave but stopped, catching my eye with his.

“Hey, do I know you?” he asked.

I gave him a quick once-over, trying to do a mental inventory of everyone I knew (or possibly hooked up with) that might have been this guy. He had short, cropped blond hair and a warm, friendly face with bright blue eyes that verged on looking fake. I was about to pretend as if I vaguely recognized him, but I saw the almost fish-shaped birthmark near his left eyebrow and realized I knew no one with that kind of birthmark.

“No, sorry, I don’t think we’ve ever met.”

He stuck out a hand, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Name’s Ron.”

“Hi, Ron. I’m Noah.” I shook his hand, his grip firm around mine. I could feel a couple of rough callouses on his palm.

“There, now we’ve met.”

Smooth. His handshake lingered a little longer than I expected. “What are you drinking?” he asked as the bartender dropped the first drink off.

“I got a vodka pineapple. I like my drinks sweet enough to teleport me to Malibu if I close n my eyes.”

Ron laughed at that, a little harder than necessary. “You know what they say about guys who drink pineapple.”

“That we’re pumped up with vitamin C?” I answered, playing dumb.

“No, it’s that your co—”

“Hey, everything good here?” Jake cut in, sliding a smooth arm across my shoulders.

Interesting. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Good thing you came—I think I need help carrying the drinks. Oh, and this is Ron. We just met.”

Jake put a hand out, shaking Ron’s. I noticed this handshake didn’t last nearly as long as the one I just had. “Nice to meet you. I’m Jake.”