“—That’s not a bad thing.”

I snort. “Second, I know that look, so stop looking with that look.” I almost stutter. “And third. No.”

“Can I talk now?”

“Do we need a talking stick?”

He bites down on his lower lip. “You stepped right into that one, girl, can’t help you there.” He looks down at his dick, then back up at me. “But if you insist.”

“I hate you.”

He grabs my foot and gently pulls me to the ground across from him. “No, you don’t.”

“Sometimes.”

“That’s better.” He pulls my other foot until I’m somewhat straddling his body from the side, then he looks down at my feet. “You need to paint your toenails.”

“Yeah okay, mind reader.” I roll my eyes. “I don’t have any polish.”

“I do.”

“You do?”

He shrugs. “I went through a phase. Besides, who says guys can’t wear nail polish? Fuck, guys from eighties hair bands to KPOP idols wear nail polish, and why are you giving me that look right now?”

I wipe a fake tear. “You know pop culture!”

“Hey, I’m not all perfectly tied ties and charity dinners.”

He gets up off the floor and holds out his hand. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Where?” I ask.

He frowns. “To my room, where I keep my polish, in a secret stash under lock and key by my condoms.”

That…we probably should have used the first time. Thank God I had the shot.

“You lock up your condoms?”

He licks his lips and squats back down next to me. “You know I don’t.”

All I know is I don’t know anything. This cease-fire is dangerous to my soul.

He’s hot and cold.

He’s sexy and friendly, then cruel and hateful.

He’s everything all at once and impossible to contain, and it drives me wild.

I think this boy is the first person in my life that makes me want something—so desperately I can taste it when I lick my lips, just like I still taste him. It’s not a feeling, it’s a need, it’s not a want, it’s survival.

How can one single person do this to me? How can they turn it on and off so effortlessly while I’m dying inside?

With shaky legs, I let him help me to my feet.

“But first…” He grabs the marker and adds in a few more numbers. “Just in case we think of anything else, we’ll add it here.” He turns me toward the door. “Onward, to the fridge, just remember to whisper happy things.”

“Okay, creature of habit.”

He moans. “Damn fridge, you’re so cold right now; bet all those veggies crunch so hard when you bite into them.”

“I’m annoyed that sounded somewhat sexy.”

“I’ll be the peanut butter to your celery all day…” And he just doesn’t stop as we walk down the hall and into the kitchen.

“Wanna see my Hummus? Think you could season my steak? Oh, what’s that? Oh God, you’ve got sharp cheddar in your drawer and wanna show me?” He looks ready to collapse to the ground and start humping it in anticipation of food.