if in her presence my dick forgets how to be anything but hard.
In the eight days since her discovery of—or awakening to—Jack’s true self, we’ve talked.
That is part of our relationship that hasn’t changed. Sami and I have always talked to one another; even when talking to other people was hard to do, we had each other. Changing our agreement hasn’t changed that tradition.
She and I talked about her parents, about Jack, and about the cancelled wedding.
Despite—or maybe because of—everything, Sami seems to be in a good place…so I did what friends do. I went home.
That was Sunday afternoon.
Today is Friday, and I’m fucking obsessing.
We’ve had dinner twice and I’ve feasted on my favorite honey too, but it’s as if I want to know where she is and what she’s thinking every second we’re apart.
I’ve never checked my phone every ten minutes.
Until now.
If she wasn’t Sami, I’d be calling her.
But this is virgin ground.
The friendship zone.
The benefits zone.
Otherwise referred to as hell.
I step onto the treadmill and hit enter. I go through the steps, entering my age, my weight, and choosing the course I want to run. My fingers push without my thoughts engaging. It isn’t until I’m partway through my warm-up that I notice Miss Tits and Ass beside me. Every few steps, she side-glances my way.
You know…not turning her head. Not really looking, just eying me with a frown.
I recall my previous plan. Lift my shirt, wipe my brow, claim my friend’s distress, but the truth is that I no longer give a shit about her.
The realization is one of those epiphany moments—the proverbial sky opening and a chorus of angels singing.
“Marshal Michaels" —their voices come together in a melody of chords— “isn’t noticing a fine piece of ass.”
Okay. Angels most likely don’t say ass.
Nevertheless, it is an epiphany.
I don’t care about Miss Tits and Ass.
I don’t give a shit whether she is upset or forgives me. Even my body isn’t interested.
Maybe I’m broken.
No, it’s that after what my body and I have experienced with Sami over the last eight days, all either one of us wants is to go back to her place and...
Stay.
Hibernate.
Fucking cuddle.
I run faster on my treadmill, increasing the incline, and hoping that maybe I’ll care about the woman beside me or that my desire will change.
I don’t and it doesn’t.
I pick up my phone while wiping the sweat from my eyes.
I haven't spoken to Sami since last night. It feels like it’s been a year.
I'm Marshal Michaels—chicks call me.
Blinking away the sweat, I squint toward my phone, hoping, praying for...
One message.
One call.
It’s all I want.
But there's nothing.
"Marshal? Are you going to explain yourself?" Miss Tits and Ass asks.
For only a split second, my body reminds me of a saying: A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.
I fight the urge to grin. I'm thinking one in the hand is definitely not worth one in Sami's neatly trimmed bush.
"Sorry," I manage. "We didn't exchange numbers and an emergency came up."
She narrows her eyes as she picks up her pace. Her tits sway as her feet pound the treadmill. "So let me give you my number."
I almost choke on my response. It's new to me, but for the first time I can remember, it's the most honest response I can give. "Thanks. You should keep it. There's someone else who I'm kind of seeing."
Miss Tits and Ass doesn't miss a beat. "If you're only kind of seeing someone, I'm free for the part of you that isn't seeing someone." She shrugs. "I'm kind of seeing a few people, too."
When had I ever turned down casual, no-strings-attached sex?
My memory is a little fuzzy from before I turned fifteen, but going out on a limb, I'm going to guess the answer is never.
Smiling, I say, "I'll remember that. Right now, I need to see where this is going." With that, I put my earbuds back into my ears and concentrate on the pounding bass, pushing myself to keep up the pace.
I'm not sure what Miss Tits and Ass says or if she even responds. I'm too busy wondering if I should forget another of my policies and call Sami. As I think and run, and think and run...I recall calling her on Friday morning after our first night together. Maybe I’m already treating her differently.
My thoughts work to justify myself.
Last week, I tell myself, Sami and I were still more squarely in the friend zone. We'd only stepped outside the box one night. A