“Hmm,” he says, tapping his finger against his chin, like maybe he’s trying to picture it. Which, yes, I imagine isn’t easy. Then he gets an evil glint in his eyes and says, “All right, so I expect a flash mob.”

“A what now?” I say. Even though I do know what flash mobs are. Ridiculous, publicly humiliating spectacles.

He nods enthusiastically. “Yup. That’s the level of fawning and adoring I’m talking about. I want a guy to be so into me that he needs to make sure everyone else knows it too.”

I honestly can’t tell how much he’s fucking with me. Like I know he’s joking around, but is there a part of him that really might want something like that? Maybe not a flash mob, necessarily, but big romantic gestures?

While I don’t know if I’d be capable of giving that to him, I meant it when I said he deserves it. And that’s just another reason I need to keep my feelings for him to myself. He deserves so much more than me.

“Okay,” I say, resorting to my old buddy sarcasm. “One flash mob coming up.”

“Good.”

“What else are you looking for?”

He slides down a bit so he’s closer to lying than sitting now, his cheek smushed adorably into his pillow. “Why don’t you tell me what you want in a boyfriend?”

Bright blue eyes, endless smiles, and an obnoxious coffee addiction.

That’s my immediate thought. But since I can’t say it, and I honestly don’t even know how else to answer, I fake a yawn and tell him, “We should probably get some sleep.”

He gives me an assessing look, and I pray that he hasn’t magically developed mindreading powers in the last thirty seconds. Then he smiles and agrees.

As he gets out of bed to hit the light switch, I fold down the covers so we can get under them, and I say another prayer that I don’t wake up with morning wood again. At least he didn’t kiss me this time, so I should be fine. I know I’m the one who asked him about kissing and agreed we could do it in front of Elise and Grant to sell this relationship, but after that first kiss, I realized it’s a terrible idea. For me, at least.

I’m still willing to do it when we need to. I refuse to let him down. But I’m honestly not sure how much of it I’ll be able to take without going crazy. Just that small taste I got last night was enough to make my desire for him—the desire that I’ve been able to tamp down for so long—come burning furiously up to the surface.

“Are you comfortable?” he whispers sweetly after he’s settled in.