I’m glad we can be friends.”There’s that word again. It’s like a safe word.

The moment my bare feet make contact with the wood floor, my breath catches in my throat. Blake swivels his body around to greet me.“Morning, roomie.” His voice is like a shot of caffeine that ignites my body. How does he do that?

I almost feel bad for declining, but I feel more terrible that I can’t stop looking at how his chest rises and falls with each of his frustrated breaths.

He doesn’t let me argue further as he returns to his room. I pray for my sanity that he clothes himself, because the last thing I need is the image of Blake’s naked torso dripping in sweat.

The truth is, I always want to kiss you.

I didn’t know who I was or who I wanted to be until you stumbled into my life. I refuse to let you go.

The way he looks at me makes me ache, but it isn’t fair. He hurt me first. He caused this ache from the start. This inside out, churning pain that feels mental and physical now.I fiddle with my hands, peering up at him again, and all I can think is, God, I wish he’d stop staring at me like that.

I mean, aren’t we all tormented by past relationships?