Andrew grabs a slice of pizza and asks, “Why do you hate me, Emily?”

“I don’t hate you,” I reply instantly, frowning, surprised by the unexpected question.

“Are you sure about that?” He arches an eyebrow.

“Why do you think I hate you?” I snatch the pizza from him and take a massive bite.

“You treat me like shit,” he pouts, holding my wrist in place and finishing the rest of the food still in my hand. The way he nibbles at my fingers doesn’t go unnoticed, and I hate to admit it, but it sends an unwelcome tingle down my spine.

“That’s because you are a piece of shit,” I blurt out.

“What?” His mouth falls open as he stares at me in disbelief.

“What? Nothing. I didn’t say anything.” I cough a few times.

“Did you just say I’m a piece of shit?” he insists, narrowing his eyes.

“I said I don’t treat you like shit,” I lie, rolling my eyes. “Gosh, you really need to clean your ears, dude,” I snort shamelessly.

He studies me suspiciously for a few seconds before sighing. “If you say so.” He takes a sip of my beer.

“How did you know I was here? I mean, when you were heading to your apartment with Mia.” I quickly change the subject.

“I didn’t. The elevator stopped on this floor, and when the doors opened so one of your neighbors could get out, I saw you,” he explains, taking another sip.

“Gosh, Mia must hate me,” I mumble, wondering how she must have felt when Andrew ditched her—again—to keep me company.

“Mia doesn’t hate you. On the contrary, she’s a big fan of yours.” Andrew grins.

“How so?” I gasp, wide-eyed.

“She loves your books.” He shrugs.

“Oh, that poor soul,” I mock both the girl and myself.

“Speaking of which, how is Amanda?” He shoots me a playful smile, reminding me of Love and Shit.

“Amanda is… stuck,” I snort, thinking about the main character of my romance novel—and possibly the biggest failure of my writing career.

“Writer’s block?”

“Not really. I mean… maybe. I don’t know,” I confess, closing my eyes and leaning my head against the door behind me.

Noticing my discomfort, he drops the subject. “How come you’re not at the nightclub with Charlie, Hansel, and Faith?” 

“I was having dinner with Lucas.” I open my eyes and look at him properly. Andrew looks annoyingly good tonight—his messy blond hair giving him a boyish edge and his brown eyes flickering with mischief under my gaze. He’s wearing a casual red hooded sweatshirt, dark jeans, white socks, and black flip-flops.

Yep. Flip-flops.

“Isn’t Lucas the asshole who stood you up?” The question comes out of Andrew’s mouth in a bitter tone.

“The one and only.” I chuckle, opening my third can of beer and gulping half of it down.

“Why are you still friends with him?” he pouts.

“Lucas has been one of my closest, dearest friends for years, Andrew. Why would I stop hanging out with him?” I frown.

“Because—” He stops abruptly, running a hand through his hair as if trying to calm himself down.

“Not to mention he’s as hot as a jalapeño,” I add, giggling and blushing.

“Oh, my lord. Let’s just change the subject, shall we?” Andrew mutters, visibly annoyed.

“Or you could go back to your place and leave me here,” I suggest petulantly.

“Nice try, Emi. However, I’m not going anywhere, young lady,” he smirks, his lips curling into a lopsided smile.

“Did you just call me ‘young lady’? Who are you? My father?” I jeer, bursting into laughter, unaware I’m starting to relax as I enjoy Andrew’s proximity. Gosh, he smells so good.

“Tell me a secret of yours,” he says out of the blue, his eyes searching mine intently.

“In your dreams.” Trying to avoid the very real temptation beside me, I fix my gaze on the wall in front of me, specifically the elevator buttons.

“I’ll tell you one of mine, and then you’ll tell me one of yours.”

“Why are you so interested in my secrets?” I ask, furrowing my brows as I cast him a sidelong glance.

“I’m not interested in your secrets.” He pauses, cupping my chin and forcing me to face him. “I’m interested in you,” he whispers.

I think my soul just left my body and I’m about to faint.

“It may be bold of me, but I’ll say it anyway—you feel the same way about me, and that’s why you’ve been avoiding me… You’re afraid of your own feelings,” he asserts.

I stare into his eyes for what feels like an eternity until I finally manage to stutter, “I-I-I-I’m scared to death of needles, but one of my biggest dreams is to get a tattoo.”

“Really?” He gives me a victorious smile. “What kind of tattoo do you want?”

“I want an M.”

“Care to explain why?” He tilts his head, his hand dropping from my chin.

“My mother’s name is Miranda.”

“That’s a beautiful name,” he remarks, his smile so warm it makes me mirror it without even noticing.

“It’s your turn.” I poke his chest with a finger, chuckling.

“Well, since we’re talking about tattoos, back in college, there was this one night when I got so drunk I let one of my friends give me a tattoo—a small heart—on my left butt cheek.” He cringes.

“No way,” I murmur before bursting into laughter. I laugh so hard that I even cry and can barely breathe.

“Not one of my finest moments,” he adds, which only makes me laugh harder. 

“Show me your tattoo,” I demand, eager to see it. 

“As much as I would love to show you my heart tattoo so you can mock me for the rest of our lives, I’m not pulling down my trousers here in the middle of the hall. Can you imagine what your neighbors would think if they saw that?” He laughs heartily.

“Oh, Andrew. My neighbors’ opinions would be the least of your problems,” I joke, patting him on the shoulder.

“It’s your turn again. Tell me another secret.” He takes another sip of my beer.

“Damn it, Andy. Why don’t you open your own drink? There are three unopened cans left,” I snap, pointing at the bag from the convenience store.

“Because I want a way to taste you. I would love to kiss you, but considering what happened the last time I tried, I’m settling for sharing your food and drinks instead.” He winks and takes another sip of my drink.

“That’s… sexy and creepy,” I mumble, caught off guard by his confession.

Half of me is jumping and screaming, whereas the other half wants to run as far away as possible, as I’m not ready to deal with Andrew or the possibility that he might actually mean all that.

“Why are you telling me those things? What about Mia?” I remember the girl who was supposed to spend the night with him.

“What about her?”

“Isn’t she your girlfriend?”

“What makes you think Mia is my girlfriend?” he asks, surprised, his eyebrows shooting up.

“You were going to spend the night with her, weren’t you?”

“Are you jealous?” he teases, smiling.

“As if,” I snort.

“Mia is a friend with benefits,” he admits, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks.

“Okay, then.” I roll my eyes, unsettled by his answer… 

Hold on. Am I really jealous? What the actual hell?

“Charlotte is the only girl I’ve dated so far,” he clarifies, lowering his voice.

The mention of my friend’s name shatters my poor heart into a million pieces all over again. When will I learn that Andrew and Charlie are meant to be together? When will I understand that Charlie will always be his number-one girl?

“Charlie’s betrayal is the main reason I don’t get into serious relationships anymore,” he continues, his statement full of resentment.

“Charlie’s betrayal? What are you talking about?” I frown, puzzled by his words.

“Didn’t Charlotte tell you how she cheated on me after she moved to New York?”

I shake my head in response because it’s the truth—Charlie never mentioned any of it to me. In fact, she never talked about how things ended between her and Andrew, and I never asked either, since it would have been too painful for both of us.

“She went to a party right after moving into her NYU dorm and hooked up with a sophomore. One of my friends happened to be there and saw them together. Charlotte admitted it when I confronted her, and I broke up with her without thinking twice.” Andrew clenches his fists before letting out a sigh.

I’m stunned, completely in disbelief that Charlie cheated on Andrew. How stupid was that? Why would she do that?

“Unlike you, I still believe in love,” he adds, more quietly now. “But I’m careful not to fall for someone who might break my heart.” He reaches for my hand and intertwines our fingers, his action making my heart skip, my jaw drop to the floor, and my eyes widen.

And, once again, my soul leaves my body.

As we gaze at each other, he leans in, his lips inching closer to mine. But just as they are about to touch, my phone starts ringing insistently, forcing me to pull back and grab it. 

Upon seeing Faith’s name flashing across the screen, I shoot Andrew an apologetic smile and answer the call. “Faith, is everything all right?”

“Mily, can you please come to the nightclub? Hansel and Charlie are completely wasted, and even though I’m not that drunk, my head is spinning, and I can’t drive.” Faith’s desperate voice echoes from the other end of the line.

“Shit, Faith. I’m afraid I can’t help you because I left my keys inside the apartment.” I frown, worry creeping in.

“Where are you?” she asks, sounding confused.

“I’m outside my apartment.”

Andrew takes the phone from my hand and brings it to his ear. “We’ll be there in twenty minutes,” he tells her before ending the call and handing it back to me. “Let’s go pick up your friends.” He then drains the rest of my beer and sets the empty pizza box on the floor.

“But neither of us can drive because we have been drinking,” I protest, pushing the blanket off me.

“I’m calling a cab. We’ll head to the nightclub after we clean up this mess.” He gets to his feet and offers me his hand, which I take hesitantly.

Fifteen minutes later, the hallway is clean, and I find myself outside the building, climbing into a cab with Andrew, his hand holding mine tightly.

* * *