Also pretty sure I need to get myself the fuck together. I’ve been friends with Travis for a decade without lusting after him. I can get through another week of this without jumping him.

Probably.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

CHAPTER TWELVE

TRAVIS

“You wanna change?” Brenden asks, holding out a pair of my sweatpants that he grabbed from his dresser drawer. Apparently, he made room for my clothes and put them away for me, even though I assured him it wasn’t necessary.

The gesture is sweet, but it’s also made the line between real and fake look a bit blurrier. The more days we spend pretending to date, the more the line blurs. And that’s how I end up doing silly things like kissing his fingertips because I want to, not because I’m trying to sell this.

It’s been way too easy fitting myself into his life. Although maybe that shouldn’t surprise me. We’ve fit so easily into each other’s lives in a platonic way for years. I know what he likes and dislikes, his strengths and his weaknesses, how to make him happy with simple things. Is adding some handholding really all it takes to tip the appearance of our relationship from platonic over to romantic?

He shakes the sweats at me, snapping me out of my brief daze. “Sorry you had to stay up for the movie” he says when I take them from him. “You must be exhausted from all the jumping back and forth between the diner, the inn, and here.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty much ready to crash.”

Honestly, I almost dozed off a few times during the movie. But having Brenden’s body tucked against mine kept me awake. It was comfortable in a way that could have lulled me to sleep—if it weren’t for the fact that I wasn’t willing to miss a moment of the closeness.

That should scare me. It does scare me. He is not mine to keep, and I need to remember that.

I go into the bathroom to change, and since Brenden was already wearing clothes he could sleep in, I find him lying in bed when I come back out. I set my folded jeans and flannel on top of his dresser before going over there. It looks like he’s a little more in the middle of it than he should be. So far, we’ve both stayed as much on our respective sides as possible. That is, until we inevitably migrate closer in our sleep.

At least this morning when I woke up, Brenden was lying on his stomach about a foot away from me. Only his hand had crept closer, his fingers curled around my hipbone. That was less dangerous and awkward than waking up with his ass pressed against my dick.