I lace my fingers in his, hesitating a moment to enjoy the glow blooming between my ribs. "If I wasn't so hungover-and if I wasn't so mortified that we stole Vera's bed-I'd pull you back in here and give you your chance right now."

"If I hadn't heard your stomach rumbling for the past five minutes, I might have taken it."

Oh damn. Stupid hunger noises.

He yanks me up and leans in close, whispering, "And if you keep talking that way, you'll force me to sit through a very uncomfortable breakfast."

I work my very hardest to ignore the current his words send zipping along my skin. Focus on the need more easily fulfilled right now. I swallow the extra saliva flooding my mouth. "Did you say something about eggs? Because I might be willing to murder someone for breakfast right now."

"There's toast, too."

"You should've led with that!" I step toward the door, suddenly ravenous for the salty dryness of toast in my alcohol-heavy stomach.

He doesn't let go of my hand, instead pulling me back to him until we're less than an inch apart. My nose is level with the top of his chest. He bends his head lower, until his mouth is barely a breath away from mine. "And miss this conversation? That's exactly why I didn't lead with the toast. I know what hangovers feel like-you would've been out of here in an instant."

Which, for some reason, reminds me, "Do you also know what giving a hickey feels like?"

He doesn't say anything, so I tilt my head, extending my neck for him to see. A second later he laughs, minty breath drifting across my face. "It's your own fault."

I straighten, and our mouths are so, so close again. "How's that?"

"Your skin shouldn't taste," his mouth is on mine, the lightest of touches... "so," and again, "good."

And again.

And again.

His lips are smooth and soft against mine. I press myself into him, thinking I could go on like this forever-but my stomach has other ideas and gurgles so loudly, I wouldn't be surprised if the people three apartments down think it was an earthquake.

He laughs and takes my hand again, which he'd released to cup my face (so hot). "Come on."

"Yeah. Give me eggs and toast or give me death."

"A little Abe Lincoln to start the day?"

"Patrick Henry, actually." I don't mean to sound like a know-it-all, but it kind of comes out that way. "I mean, not that he actually said that about breakfast." Now I just sound like an idiot. Great.

"I know." He grins, wolfishly again. "I was just testing you."

"Sure you were." I grin right back.

We step out of the bedroom into an apartment more spacious than I remember. Okay, well, I don't really remember it at all, to be honest. Everything is very open, and the walls are painted in subtly varied coffee-colored tones. Framed fashion posters hang on the walls, mixed with smaller abstracts, all pinks and whites and golds. Vera's sitting in the living room in a navy and white striped overstuffed armchair, flipping through a gossip magazine. Her hair is perfectly styled, and her face is flawless-though she didn't have access to her bathroom. She's in pajama bottoms and a tank top, still somehow managing to look completely put together. She glances up when she hears us. "Hey."

"Hi." I lift my fingers in a small half-wave. "I... uh... Sorry for stealing your bed."

"You got more use out of it than she would have." Jared's sitting at a dark wooden dining table, off the kitchen. I hadn't noticed him-but a split second flashback to last night has him in it, laughing with us in the cab and then...paying the driver, maybe? After that, all I see is Gage. Jared stabs a plate of eggs with a fork, muttering something I don't quite catch.

Vera flashes him a look before responding to me. "It's cool. I'd forgotten how comfortable my guest bed is anyway."

"Can't say the same for your couch." Jared shoves away from the table, grabbing his mug, and helps himself to a refill from her coffee pot.

"Let's get this girl some eats." Gage cuts in, tugging me toward the kitchen and ignoring the tension between the other two. Or maybe he doesn't notice it. Guys can be so oblivious. Must be nice. I shoot Vera a look of concern, but she just rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

A moment later, I'm at the dining table with Gage, scarfing down scrambled eggs and toast and a fresh cup of coffee, the other one left forgotten in Vera's bedroom, and I couldn't care less about tension. I don't care about anything other than the food hitting my belly. "This is the best breakfast I've ever had."

"The secret's in the bacon fat," Vera says.

The thought of bacon fat though... I have to pause and take a few deep breaths. "Let's just let the ingredients stay secret."

She laughs, turning a page. "Got it."

"So then," Gage pushes a strand of messy hair back from his forehead, the corner of his mouth twisting into half a smile, "you probably don't want to think about...say...a greasy pork sandwich?"

"Oh God. Stop." I put my fork down, my stomach rolling.

"Not even one in a dirty ashtray?"

"What are you doing?" Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. In the nose. Out the mouth. I glare at the grin he's wearing.

"Couldn't resist." The grin tilts into a disarming smile. "Old habit with my college roommates last year. Watching each other suffer hangovers was a bit of a sick pleasure."

"Didn't you get enough pleasure last night?" Jared smirks over his coffee.

"Dude, don't be a dick." Gage rubs the back of his neck in short jerky motions. Feigned nonchalance even though the way he narrows his eyes gives away his irritation.

I don't bother pretending to be cool. "Gross, Jared. Didn't we discuss you being sleazy yesterday? Because clearly it didn't sink in."

"Sorry, sorry." Jared raises his hands in mock contrition. "Just trying to get my fill, since somebody let me down last night."

"Enough." Vera stands, her magazine dropping to the floor. "God, Jared. Just enough. Maybe if you didn't make comments like that-they wouldn't be needed."

"Not that they're ever needed," I add.

"What?" He looks back and forth between us, pointing at Gage. "He can tease you but I'm not allowed to joke around?"

"Grossing me out to mess with my hangover is cruel," I bump my knee against Gage's under the table, "but he's kidding, and you're just being disgusting."

"Exactly." She drops into the open seat at the table, scowling at him. "Maybe you should just go."

"Okay, I get it. My bad." Jared takes a bite of toast and, when nobody says anything to him, sighs. "I'm an idiot sometimes. You know I don't mean it." The last part's directed to Vera, whose expression softens slightly.

Acknowledging that you act like a misogynistic ass (or, as Jared calls himself, an idiot) doesn't count if you don't do anything to stop it. But I bite the retort on my tongue, and instead say, "If anyone should go, it should be me. I need to get home."

I stand and take my dish to the sink, holding my breath to keep from thinking about what it means to go home.

"I'll take you," Gage says, following with his own plate.

"You don't have to do that."

"I want to."

"Maybe I live an hour away." I don't actually think I do.

"Maybe that gives me more time to hang with you."

Excuse me while I melt into a puddle here on Vera's kitchen floor.

"This," Vera says, reaching across the table and shoving her finger into Jared's shoulder. "This is the kind of teasing that's okay."

"Where's your car?" I ask.

"Here. My roommate dropped it off last night-I texted him before we left. He met us here with it and took our cab back."

"I have zero recollection of that." I try to laugh it off, but I can't believe I let myself go so far.

"That's because the only thing you were looking at last night was Gage." Jared smiles a sleazy little smile.

"That reminds me-you dropped your keys on the floor last night. I put them on the entryway table," Vera says.

"Thanks." Gage leans in close, whispering, "You were the only thing I saw, too. I only remembered about my car because he texted this morning that I owe him forty bucks for the cab ride."

Warmth winds its way up my neck. "Sounds like you have a thoughtful roommate."

"When he's around," Gage says. "Which is pretty much never."

"Have you seen my phone, or, even better, my purse?" I ask Vera. "They weren't in your room."

"They're on the couch." Jared points to the sleek plum-colored couch in the living room, across from the striped armchair. "Your phone was going off like crazy last night."

"Sorry if it bothered you. It was probably Teagan."

"Yeah, it was." He shrugs when I ask how he knows. "I was trying to silence it-and then I just went ahead and put my number in there for you."

"Why?" Disdain fills my voice a little stronger than I mean for it to.

"So you can tell me whether or not you want the job."

"Huh?"

He laughs. "You don't remember?"

I jog my memory, coming up with nothing. "Remember what?"

"Last night. You won Zach over with all that Franklin Charles talk. You won me over with it first-but you probably remember that part. I offered you a job."

"Doing what?"

Zach... I remember Jared mentioning him-but I actually met him? I dig through the hazy waters of my memory and come up blank.

"Working with me," Vera says, "and Gage, too." She lifts an eyebrow. "Obviously, you should say yes."

Gage stays silent, watching me with an expression I can't read.

"I have zero recollection of that, either."

"Well, you said you needed a few days to think about it."

"I have an internship that starts in a week."

"That's why you said you needed to think about it. You didn't..." Vera drifts off. "Sorry. None of my business."

"I didn't what?"

"You didn't seem like you wanted to do the internship."

"It's an awesome internship." My response is knee-jerk and canned, though, and I know it. Guilt follows a second later. I was excited about this summer at first. A chance to put my education toward something in the real world. A chance to make my parents happy. A chance for us all to move forward from what happened six months ago.

I don't know what changed.

"That frown on your face makes it seem like you're really excited for it," Jared says.

"Just mentally cataloguing," I lie. "I have so much to do before next week."

"I should get you home, then," Gage says.

I grab my purse and send another half-wave to Vera. "Thanks so much for letting me crash here. I had a lot of fun-or, I'm pretty sure I did-hanging out with you last night."

"Here." She walks me and Gage toward the door, stopping at the entryway table. She hands Gage his keys and scribbles her number down on a piece of paper. "I'd love to hang out again-call me sometime."

It's the easiest friendship I've ever made. "I will."

Jared calls, "Put a password on your phone if you don't want people to go through it."

"How about just don't go through phones that aren't yours?" Vera says to him as the door closes.

"Exactly," I mutter. Sunlight blinds me for a moment, and a headache pulses sharply behind my eyes. The heaviness of reality settles across my shoulders. "Right. Okay. Back to real life."

But Gage grabs my hand, weaving his fingers through mine on the way to his car, a black shiny thing, and...maybe reality is okay after all.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

Once I figure out where we are, I tell Gage we're less than fifteen minutes from my house. "Lucky you. You don't have to drive an hour out of your way."