“I’m bowing out, for lack of a better term.”

“Bowing out? I’m sorry, is this...” She gestures to her body. “A sports tournament?”

“I don’t want you to burn yourself out on one experience with one woman.”

“What? Like I’ll fuck you so many times, I won’t have any queerness left for anyone else?” She scoffs. “And who says that I am? Do you know all the queer women in Boston? Is there a group chat I don’t know about?”

I blink, stunned into silence. I guess she never technically said she only wanted to have sex with me. “You’re right. Maybe you have plans to fuck a lot of women, but you deserve to have fun, have someone who can pay attention to you—”

“You’re doing it again. You’re bulldozing through my choices, things that affect me. You don’t get to make that decision for me.” She bites the inside of her cheek and she looks so pretty but so sad. “If you don’t want to fuck me again, just say so.”

I want to go to her, show her exactly how badly I want to sleep with her. I’m so hot for her, despite still thawing out. But it’s exactly how badly I want her that makes me say, “That’s not it. It’s not because of you at all, okay. We just shouldn’t.”

She opens her mouth but seems to think better of it and pushes back through the door behind her.

Fuck.

I stand in the hallway for so long the motion sensor light turns off. I don’t trust myself to go to her, no matter how badly I want to. If we spend the next few weeks fooling around I’ll never be able to keep my wanting for her off my face once we’re in front of cameras, and that would just lead to more disaster. The exploitation she warned me about. Or—far worse—outing her before she’s ready. As much as I want this opportunity to help save this business, I’m heeding her warnings. There’s nothing more precious than my privacy or hers.

The alley behind the restaurant is always quiet, but especially so at mid-morning on a weekday. My car sits tucked between the wall and Sophie’s SUV. I throw my coat in the back and settle in the driver’s seat, resting my head on the steering wheel. “Stupid,” I mutter. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

All of this is stupid. I’m stupid for thinking only about how much I wanted her last night and how that might affect her today, and for walking away from her just now.

A sharp rap on the passenger window makes me jump. “Open the door.” She glares at me through the dirty glass.

Put the key in the ignition and drive away, Amy.

Don’t be stupid.

But I’m just not smart, I guess. I open the door. She throws herself into the car. “Let’s go.”

Chapter Eight

Amy

The car fills with the sharp scent of her shampoo. She’s barefaced, the blush on her cheeks from the cold or maybe rage.