She cringes as if she’d been slapped in the face. “That’s a pretty crappy reason, by the way. I’ll take bullshit for three hundred dollars.”

I throw up my arms before allowing them to fall to my sides. “Cass, right now, you’re pretty much my best friend.” I swallow hard at my confession, at me putting all my honesty out there. “I don’t want to fuck that up because we kissed. I don’t … I don’t want to lose you.” My voice breaks with the last two words the same way my soul would if our friendship turned sour.

Even before my life changed, I never had fun with someone like I do with her. I never bantered, had witty conversations, found someone I could vocally spar with like I have with her. I never thought about someone so damn much. And I don’t want to lose her.

She blinks at me. “Why would that mess things up?”

“Kissing leads to feelings.” I rest my back against the door and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Feelings lead to problems, fallouts, hate.”

Every relationship—scratch that—every hookup I’ve had has ended in messiness.

She’s quiet for a moment, as if digesting my words. “Kissing can also lead to better.” She raises a brow and licks that plump bottom lip of hers. “Hotter things.”

Fuck.

I need to abort mission before this friendship of ours takes a leap into something not platonic … into something we both crave but shouldn’t. Continuing this conversation can only result in two outcomes: us kissing again—most likely hotter, as she said—or me pushing her away, resulting in her hating me. The weight of guilt presses against my chest, making it difficult for me to breathe as I mentally rifle through my options.

Fixing my gaze on the woman I’m falling for, I take long strides across the room and stop abruptly in front of her. My neck strains as I stare down at her. Her gaze meets mine, her eyelids fluttering.

I clear my throat, wanting to be as straightforward as possible. “Those hotter things come with risks.”

She nods. “I’m aware.”

“They can ruin us.”

“They won’t.”

“They will ruin you with any other man.”

“I won’t ever need another man when I have you.”

Her response is my undoing.

Her confession deviates my train of thought, turning them from alarmed to desire. We hardly drank at the party tonight, so we can’t blame this on liquor tomorrow. This won’t be a night of fun we can pretend to forget in the morning. What happens in the next five minutes will solidify our relationship.

I gulp before asking, “When you talk about us getting married, about us being together, you’re joking, right?”

At first, it was fun and games for me.

Flirting here and there.