The sunlight is blinding when I finally wake up. Did I sleep in? A frantic peek at my phone shows it's just past eight.

I didn't expect to be this worn out after last night. I also didn't plan for last night to be that active. Luckily, I planned for the guys to need some recovery time. We have another two hours before we have to be anywhere.

Rolling over, I find Heath lying on his back, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. At the other edge of the bed, the sheets hang low on his hips, showing off most of why I tolerate him. "You're awake," I say.

He looks my way. His dark hair hangs in his face, the natural waves loose with the lack of product. "I don't know why, but yeah." He smirks. "Want to fit in round three?"

I roll my eyes. "We have a lot to do today. You need to shower and get out of here before the guys get up."

"Is that a 'no,' or . . . ?" He rolls closer and gives me that dark look that makes my brain stop braining or whatever.

I stare him down, not wanting to tell him no or give him the benefit of a yes. "My bonnet is really doing it for you, huh?"

"I probably should have worn one, too."

"I wasn't going to say it." I reach over and brush his hair into his face. He laughs and lays back to run his fingers through it. "We're breaking so many rules."

"Yeah? Which ones?"

"No sleepovers, no pillow talk . . ."

"I mean, if you think about it, our pre-scheduled events could be a weekend fuck fest. You knew what you signed up for when you agreed to share a room."

"Sleepover or not, this is still pillow talk."

He chuckles. "We're talking while we're on pillows. It's not pillow talk."

"That's literally the same thing."

"Okay, then let's stop talking." He crawls closer and peers down at me with a conniving grin.

"I'm too tired for this."

"Who said you had to do anything?" He reaches down and takes me by the back of my knee, pulling it up and resting my bent leg against his stomach. His hand slides up and down my thigh, sending a rush of warmth to my core and tingles across my skin. "I got this."

I let him pull the sheet from my chest. Sleeping naked was unintentional, but is becoming very convenient. He runs his hand up my throat, then down over my chest. His lips follow. A light kiss against my neck, then a taste of my nipple. I stretch out, inviting him to continue without words.

He pulls his mouth from me just long enough to wet his fingers. A second later, he pushes them into me and curves them hard against the perfect spot.

The combination of his tongue and lips at my nipple and his fingers inside me makes me so wet it becomes audible. Pleasure ripples through me, a soothing warmth settling in my head while fire blossoms around his touch. I'm calm, blissful, free—all while being completely ensnared.

Suddenly, he pulls his fingers from me and rolls me away from him onto my side. He huffs in annoyance while he digs through his bag on the side table.

I touch myself as I wait, ready to take him however he's willing to give it to me.

After a small struggle, he presses himself against my back. He takes no time placing himself at my entrance and pushing inside. I lift my leg and press my hips back, helping him sink deeper. He starts to stroke it and hits that deep, needy spot that fucks me up. I don't regret the volume of my moan.

"You like that?" he whispers in my ear.

"Stop talking," I whine, but pull him closer by the back of his neck. "And don't you dare stop."

We breathe in time, sighs and moans mixing while my head swims in the delicious, easy pleasure of our position. His fingers circle my clit and I swear I go blind.

He pushes me to my stomach. Squeezing my ass with both hands until one lifts and returns with a hard spank.

The bed creaks with every hard, deep thrust, and the headboard taps against the wall. With my last brain cell, I look back at him. His body is on full display. His core flexes as all his power and focus go to the perfect pumping of his hips. His hands grip my ass so hard it causes striations in his forearms, the veins popping above them.

My eyes roll back and it hits me. The orgasm rips through me. My body can only shiver beneath his onslaught. He never changes his pace, never slows the intensity, keeping me trapped in the waves of pleasure. I catch myself crying out louder than intended. I grip the sheets again, trying to hold on long enough to let him finish. Then there's a banging sound on the door.

"Teags!"

"Fuck," I huff, but I don't have the strength to make him stop. I don't want him to stop. I bite my lip to keep quiet. With a pained whimper, he pushes deep and stills.

His hips shudder for a moment, then he strokes himself slow and deep, bracing himself against the headboard. Watching the ecstasy twist his face makes my mind go blank. Another pounding on the door brings me back to reality. "Teags! Stop getting dicked down and answer the door!"

Ugh. Heath strokes his hands up and down my sides. With the last of his strength, he slips from me and tumbles to his back. Another round of banging happens. "I swear to fucking God . . ." I grumble. "You have to hide."

"I know." He looks at me from beneath a hand, still catching his breath. "Fucking hell."

We both roll out of bed. While I rip off my bonnet and put on a robe, he gathers his clothes and other items from the floor and goes into the bathroom. The lock clicks behind him and I open the door.

Brett and Ryan's stupid faces peer at me. I glare at them. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Ritchie and Heath are gone."

They mean Ritchie is gone but I won't correct them. "What do you mean by 'gone?'"

"Gone as in they're not here and we can't reach them."

"Shit."

"Who were you fucking just now?" Brett asks, looking past me in various directions.

I glare at him. "Priorities much? Let me get ready and I'll meet you in the lobby. Keep calling them." I shut the door in their face and lean back against it. Listening to their voices trail away, I sigh. "They're gone."

The bathroom lock clicks and Heath slides the door open. He's still naked and seems to have no intention of changing that. It takes everything I have not to look down when he leans his arms into the door frame. "I should have answered my phone I guess."

"You think?" I roll my eyes. He laughs and walks back to the bed. "Do you have any idea where Ritchie could be?"

He slides his boxer briefs up, then stops. I can see the gears in his mind slowly start to turn. "I think I might, actually."

. . .

Tell me why Ritchie is at the fucking airport. Don't, please, that would make this premeditated rather than a crime of passion. The hotel manager was happy to be an accomplice, letting us know they saw him head out just as Heath said.

I call him from my phone and he answers. "Ritchie, what the fuck are you doing?!"

"I have to fly back."

"Our flight home is in six hours. You can't wait?"

"No!" he cries. "Gigi—"

Heath snatches my phone and I'm not even mad. I trust him to speak Ritchie's language better than I can. He walks away while spewing angry words at a quieter volume than I can manage right now.

Taking a breath to calm my blood pressure, I turn to find Ryan. He looks like a mess. His sunken eyes are wide with fear and a lack of sleep. "Oh my God. What's wrong with you now?"

He looks at me and his brow furrows. "I'm freaking out, Teags."

"Yeah, I can see that. But why?"

"Ritchie just made me think . . ."

"Don't let Ritchie make you think about anything. He doesn't even think for himself."

"But," he says in a quivering voice. "I'm starting to think that . . . Maybe . . . Like . . . What if . . ."

"Oh my God, spit it out!"

He looks me in the eyes. His are wet with tears. I sigh, knowing this is about to be melodramatic as hell. "How can you know for sure?" he asks.

"Know what for sure?"

"How do you know you're with the right person? Like, you look around at all these happy couples that are breaking up. It's like you can be madly in love one minute and then suddenly your relationship is crumbling. How?" He fidgets while he breathes away tears. "Is it better to be alone than to waste your time with someone who will ruin you for everyone else?"

I stare at him. The pain in my chest gets covered by contempt.

He reads my thoughts on my face. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

"No, you definitely did."

He goes back to his bullshit. "But, I mean. You seemed so happy. And now you're—"

"A bitter, broken bitch?" I finish for him.

"No! I mean . . . Whatever happened, happened, and now you think you don't want to be in a relationship with anyone, even if—"

I raise a hand to stop him. "Please stop before I push you off this balcony." I wish I was kidding. "If you want to have a cold feet freak out, go ahead, but leave me out of it."

"But, how do you know it will work out? How do you know if you're with the wrong person?"

With a deep breath, I let the feelings peek their head into my thoughts. "You can't know that," I tell him truthfully. "Shit happens in ways you can't predict. But, you go in happy and hope for the best. And if five years from now, everything falls apart . . . That's just life." A flicker of emotion twists in my stomach and grips my throat. I shake it off. "You live and you learn, Ry. It's not time wasted, it's just time spent trying to be happy. What else is the point of all this shit?"

His brow crumples. I stare at him, fighting the tears I've cried too many times.

"Teags . . ." He comes closer and wraps me in a hug. "What would I do without you?"

I wish I could find out, I answer in my head. Still miffed, I return it with a few pats on the back. He leans away and looks at me for a moment, his hand finding my cheek. Not knowing where that hand has been, I try to pull it away. It doesn't work.

"How do I . . . How do I know it's not you?" he asks.

"What's not me?"

He gives me a pitiful look. His other hand joins his first, holding my face between them. His thumbs trace my cheekbones. "How do I know you're not the one?"

My brow scrunches with confusion. "Huh?"

"I love you, Teagan. You're the best friend I've ever had," he says. "Thinking about getting married is freaking me out, and I think maybe . . . Maybe it's because I'm not marrying you."

Um.

I stare at him, trying to hold it in. The laugh I was fighting comes out of my nose. I cover my mouth with a hand, but it all comes out. My head falls back as I cackle.

I have to hold onto him in fear of falling over. I laugh until my stomach hurts and my eyes are watering. "You think you want to be with me? Oh my God, I'm gonna pee my pants." I cackle again, gripping my stomach when it cramps. "Ryan, you cannot be serious. You must be high out of your goddamn mind right now."

His eyes stay wide while he contemplates my words. "Oh, man. I think you're right."

I wipe my eyes while my cheeks ache. "Yeah, no shit. Come on, you can sober up over breakfast."

He stumbles away to join Brett. I glance over at Heath when he comes over to hand me my phone. "The cab is bringing him back," he says, his tone lackluster. 

"Good. Thank you."

"Yeah, don't mention it." He walks away, scrubbing his hands over his face with an exasperated expression.

Same, bro. Same. 

. . .

The second we land in LaGuardia, reality starts to creep back in, and with it, my feelings. Sitting at the opposite end of our row, Heath is immediately on his phone again, his thumbs flying over the keys. The post-Vegas grovel text, I'm sure. He left his good mood back at the hotel. Between us, Ryan is still asleep, his beanie pulled down over his eyes, headphones still on and playing lo-fi beats. I won't wake him until we reach the gate. Less time to talk to him after the awkwardness of before.

He threw me. Blitzed or not, he reminded me why I don't leave my heart open anymore.

I don't have space for the unpredictable. I no longer have the emotional depth it takes to allow someone to be close to me again. Whether it's a countdown to disappointment or not, there is always the chance of pain showing up out of nowhere, ripping away everything you have and leaving you raw. Letting someone in is as good as cracking open your chest and telling someone to take a swing.

I lift my eyes to Heath again. My contract with him is perfect. It's everything I need and more. My feelings about his stupid dates with his stupid girlfriend are inconsequential. I just don't want what we have to end because I don't want my safe place to go away.

While we wait for the plane to taxi to the gate, I recite the rules again.

Dramatic or emotionally based decisions are to be kept separate from the schedule and terms within the contract.

Little can hurt you if your walls are thick enough.

"Back to business, I see," I say to Heath. He doesn't look at me, but rather, he continues to scowl at his phone. "When do you plan to confront her?"

He finally looks up at me with a surprised expression. "Confront her?"

"Confront her. Tell her. Whatever you want to call it." He looks even more confused than before. I don't know why I give him the benefit of the doubt when it comes to his mental capabilities. He thinks with his dick. "You and I have a contract. We agreed on every word of it so we wouldn't get to a place where either of us feel used, emotional, confused—anything. You do not have that with her."

It finally looks like it clicks. He looks away and shakes his head. "You're talking about Shelley. Again."

"Yeah. Who else?"

He rolls his eyes. "I'm getting real sick of having to tell you she isn't my girlfriend."

"Sure. But how long do you think you can go before she cares about you spending your evenings with her and your nights with someone else?"

He closes his eyes with an angry inhale. "I don't have time for this right now, Teags."

"Chill. I'm not trying to scold you or anything like that. I just think it's best to be open with her. And with me," I assure him. "No surprises. That's all I ask."

His vexation fades to anger. He leans in to whisper. "You were the one who wanted a contract. Stick to it or don't, I'm not going to fight with you." His glare is intent and threatening. "I am not fucking Shelley, but if you'd like that to change, keep this shit up."

I rear back with surprise.  "What the hell?" The seatbelt sign dings as it disappears. The people in front of us stand. I hadn't noticed us arriving at the gate. "I said everything is fine, I just want you to talk to me if—"

"Drop it," he snips at me. The anger on his face is drastically out of context. "My shit is mine. Stay out of it."

Now I'm bothered. "Okay, so what you're doing right now is the definition of fuckshit."

"Teagan. Respectfully, you have no fucking idea what you're talking about right now, so shut the hell up."

"Why can't you guys go more than a day without fighting?" Ryan says with a gravelly voice. "You're like a couple of kids."

"Yeah, you're one to talk," I spew at him. When I look back up, Heath is on his way down the aisle. 

Whatever I said really set him off, but why? I just said the truth, like I always do.

Am . . . Am I the drama?

_____

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