I blinked, confused. “One week what?”
“This. You, me, us. We give it one week to explore…whatever we want, and then—out of respect for…your brother—that’s it. The end. We never speak of it again. Okay?”
He didn’t even want to give me a week. I could see it in the swirling torment in his gaze, the tautness of his jaw, could hear it in his harsh, whispered words. Betraying Noel honestly killed him. But he was as tempted as I was.
I nodded immediately, realizing I was getting more from him than I should be. “I’ll take it,” I said. I was as elated as I was sad to know I had seven more days with him.
I totally didn’t mean to let the temptation win. I was supposed to be stronger than a silly little craving. But then I underestimated the power of Caroline Gamble.
She’d wanted me, so she’d gotten me.
I knew I should be pissed. Because of her underhanded sneakery, I’d betrayed my best friend and done the one thing he absolutely did not want me to do to him. But knowing she’d wanted me that much, that she’d gone to such extremes, became my own personal stalker, it really turned me on. And so the anger just kind of disappeared somewhere in between all the awe and flattery and desire.
That didn’t mean I was ready to play full-out liar and deceiver the very day after stabbing Gamble in the back, though. Except, yeah, that’s how it went down, anyway.
“I call bartender tonight,” he said as we strolled across campus together.
He’d texted me after my last class of the day, demanding we meet at the student union for a drink. Hamilton had met up with us too, and after we’d had a coffee break, we decided to head our separate ways before we met again later that night for our shift.
Since it was Thursday—ladies’ night—that meant all of us guys had to work. Two manned the bar while the other three waited tables out on the floor. And like every other week before, it turned out that Gamble and Lowe worked the bar every Thursday.
I usually had no problem waiting tables, since it brought me more tips and I met more chicks that way, but today, I kind of wanted to stick behind the safety of a counter. I was no longer a free agent; I couldn’t just let random women slip me their phone numbers or—
“Holy shit.” I slowed to a stop and blinked dazedly at the world around me. But had I really just thought of myself as taken? No longer available to the ladies? Committed?
Whoa. Where had that shit come from?