I swing the door open when the doorbell rings, finding Jayden standing on the other side, a grocery bag in each hand.

"Hi." His smile is adorable, and he leans over to place a kiss on my cheek as he carries the bags into the kitchen.

It's date night.

"Hey," I say, following after him.

When he's placed the bags on the counter, he turns around, holding out his arms. "Come here."

I don't even think twice about it, I just step into his waiting embrace. With those big, muscular arms, Jayden was built for hugging. I don't hug a lot of people, but with Jayden it feels natural, and as his scent envelopes me, and his warmth seeps through his clothes, I start relaxing.

He dips his head, pressing his lips against mine. It's soft and gentle. His tongue coaxes my mouth open, deepening the kiss, but keeping a leisurely pace. It's almost lazy, and it makes something flip in my chest.

After a while, he pulls back, smiling dazed at me. "Missed you, Trouble."

The flipping intensifies. I clench my stomach muscles, hoping that'll somehow make my chest settle the fuck down. Plastering a smile on my face, I wink at Jayden. "Figures. I'm very missable."

His laugh wraps around me, causing a shiver to run down my spine. He juts his chin at the kitchen island. "Go sit down."

"Yes, sir," I say, grinning wickedly as I turn around. He smacks my ass when I walk away.

I take a seat on the other side of the kitchen island, resting my elbows on the marble tabletop, watching Jayden rummage around my kitchen. There's a familiarity to his movements. It's in the way he intuitively opens the right drawers, and finds cooking appliances without issue. I hadn't realized how comfortable Jayden had become in my space.

Apprehension battles something freakishly close to contentment in my stomach.

"Wine?"

I blink Jayden back into focus. He's turned around, watching me with a bemused look, a bottle of white wine in one hand.

I swallow. "You bought wine?"

"It's a date, is it not?"

I nod numbly.

He turns to the right cabinet, grabbing two wine glasses almost absentmindedly. He pours the golden liquid and slides one glass across the counter towards me.

I take a large sip. I have a feeling I'm gonna need alcohol tonight. Jayden pulls carrots and onions out of the grocery bags and begins prepping it.

"What are you making?"

He continues working, his back to me. "Danish tartlets. I wanted you to try it."

His favorite. I smile around the rim of my glass. I remember him telling me that it was something his dad used to make.

"That sounds nice."

"I sure hope so," he says, humor in his voice. He grabs something in one of the bags and turns to me, waggling the item. "Do you have any idea how hard these are to find?"

It's an oblong package containing a row of what looks like small, hollow tarts.

I shrug. "Nope."

"Very."

I guess Danish food items aren't a normality in Michigan.

Jayden has gone back to cutting up the carrots and onions and dumping them into a pot of boiling water. Then he opens a package of chicken breasts and eases them into the steaming pot too. Putting the lid on, he checks the clock on the wall.

His sleeves are rolled up, and as he grabs the glass beside him without looking to take a drink, I feel a rush of heat run through me. Him being comfortable in a kitchen has no business being this hot.

"Oh," he says, turning to look at me, mischief lighting up his expression, but I can see a flicker of something else in his eyes. Nerves, maybe? "I'm also making fried okra."

It's like a soft punch to the sternum. I only just manage to keep the surprise and hesitation off my face, instead sending him a questioning look. "You know how to cook fried okra?"

When I mentioned it to him, he had never even had it.

He smirks. "No, but I do know how to read a recipe."

He turns back to the cooking, and I take another sip of wine, this time without tasting it.

I haven't had that dish since before I moved to Michigan.

Jayden asks me to put on the music, and he works while I look at him, neither of us talking much. The music fills out any silence, making this whole thing feel very comfortable and very domestic.

Another flip in my chest. If this doesn't stop, I think I need to have my heart checked out, because it's clearly having some sort of fit.

Jayden finishes up the tartlets. We sit down at the dining table. The tarts have been filled with a thick asparagus sauce with pieces of chicken in it. Slices of cucumber decorate the edges of the tarts, and there's a few slices of tomato on the plate too.

I send a tentative smile to Jayden who's watching me, looking quite nervous. I really hope he's an okay cook.

I cut out a piece, the sauce slowly running out onto the plate, and put the fork in my mouth. The tart is light and airy, while the sauce is creamy and savory.

Damn, this tastes good.

"Wow, you can cook."

He places a hand on his chest, appearing offended, but a proud smile tugs at his lips. "You questioned my abilities?"

"Eat your food," I say, rolling my eyes as I take another bite.

Jayden has prepared two tartlets for us each, and while I understand that it's only the starter, I still kinda wish there would have been more.

I drink more wine while Jayden cooks the okra. My leg is bouncing underneath the table, and I have to dig my nails into my thigh to stop myself from going to overlook the process.

He didn't need my help though. As soon as I bite into one, I'm transported back in time to the million times I had this growing up.

Jayden's made a side of coleslaw, and this too is on point. "How did you learn to cook?" I ask in between bites.

He's looking pretty pleased with himself, watching me scarf down the food. "I loved watching my dad cook before he died. Then when I got a little older my mom began teaching me. She's the one who showed me how to make the tartlets." He smiles a hint of melancholy seeping into his expression. "Said it kept my dad's memory alive."

I place my hand on his, squeezing. "Thanks for sharing it with me."

The way his lips stretch wider and his eyes light up makes him look so beautiful that my chest hurts. The flipping is out of control. My god.

"How do you like it?" I ask, gesturing to the food on his plate. He's barely touched his okra.

He pulls a grimace, nudging one of the balls with his fork. "It's okay?"

"Really?" I ask, grinning. His reaction doesn't surprise me. It's not for everyone, especially if you didn't grow up with it.

"It's not my favorite." His eyes lift, searching my face. "But you like it, right? You sure it's good?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Jay. You nailed it," I say, stuffing another forkful into my mouth. The sweet, sort of grassy flavor spreads in my mouth, making a thousand childhood memories flash before me.

How something can be both joyous and heartbreaking at the same time is mind-blowing.

"How was swim practice?" I ask, trying to distract myself.

Jayden leans back in his seat, taking a sip from his wineglass before he places it on the table, his fingers toying with the stem. He's not looking at me. "It was okay. Better. I think we might be falling into a good rhythm."

I haven't forgotten how he basically asked me if he should walk away from the whole thing the day of Friendsgiving.

But I don't think Jayden would ever forgive himself if he did that. He needs to see this through, or he would forever wonder.

And there's no guarantee that the team would fare better with a different front crawl swimmer.

"How about you?" His eyes lift to mine, deep, clear blue waters pulling me in. "How's work?"

"It's fine."

It is fine. But I'm bored. I've been doing this job for years now, and it's getting tiring. I don't care about the guests. I don't really give a shit about most of my employees, and I really, really despise working the night shift whenever I have to.

Honestly, the most engaged I've been in a while is during my tutoring sessions with Jayden. He's getting better, quickly picking up on my advice, yet it's still challenging in a good way. Figuring out how to best explain it to him. Walking the line between helping and taking over. And getting to dig into the subject again, familiarizing myself with the source material.

I hadn't realized how much I missed it.

"Do you like it?" Jayden lifts an eyebrow.

I frown, trying to get my thoughts back on track. For a second, I think he read my mind, but then I realize that he's asking about my job. I shrug casually, drumming my nails on the table. "I suppose. It's not my dream career, but it'll do."

He leans forward a bit, looking at me intently and I realize my mistake a second before he opens his mouth. Why did I say that? "What is your dream career?"

"Jay," I say quietly, giving him a pointed look.

"What?" His lips turn up in amusement. "You don't want to swap secrets?"

I knew that was gonna come back to bite me in the ass later. But I'd been drunk and happy and intoxicated by Jayden in a freaking suit, and yeah, I'd wanted to get to know him a bit.

But now, sitting in this intimate situation, a freaking candle burning between us, the fire in his eyes blazing even more fiercely, the thought of baring more of myself to him scares the living shit out of me.

"It wouldn't be a swap. I already know your dream career," I say, taking a gulp of wine. Before he can answer, I rise from my seat. "Thank you for dinner, Jay. It was amazing. I'm just gonna do the dishes. You can hang in the living room if you want."

It is an apparent dismissal. He's gotten too close, and the way he presses his lips together, sighing, it's clear that he knows it too. "Fine," he says, carrying his plate to the sink before disappearing into the living room with his wine glass.

I work mechanically, without really focusing on the task, my thoughts flying. I've been careless lately, letting too many things slip, allowing Jayden to see too much. I can't blame him for wanting more. One taste, one peek, it's all you need.

I'm the one who's stepped out of line here, and it's my job to get us back on track. Otherwise, situations like this will become too frequent. Jayden will ask questions that I have no intention of answering, and then, eventually, something will have to give. And it can't be me.

I've just placed the last glass in the dishwasher when I feel a presence behind me. Jayden doesn't say anything at first, just standing there, a few inches away. Far enough that no part of him is touching me, but close enough that I can still feel him everywhere.

It's like he's an electromagnetic field, and I'm inexplicably drawn to him.

I dry my hands before I turn around. He's leaning on his elbows on the kitchen island behind him, looking completely at ease. His head is tilted a bit, blue eyes watching me, a small smile curving his lips.

The tension from earlier has disappeared. When I face him, he reaches a hand out and tugs a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers grace my neck, and my skin ignites, burning under his touch.

His eyes are flaming again, but differently now. More hungry.

"You know, this is our third date," he says, his voice low, hoarse.

"So you keep saying."

He steps closer, backing me against the counter, forcing me to crank my neck back to look at him. He licks his lips. "You know what that means in conventional dating?"

I purse my lips, blinking confusedly. "Oh, I have no idea. Please, won't you tell me?"

I might not usually date, but I'm not an idiot. I know exactly what the third date is about.

His head dips, lips hovering an inch from mine. At the same time, one of his hands lands on the counter beside me, the other gripping my hip, effectively caging me in. "Why don't I show you?" His voice is all gravel and desire.

"Well, you do learn best hands-on, so why not," I breathe, my mouth catching the end of his chuckle as I crash my lips to his.

We've kissed plenty of times in the last month since we started this whole dating thing. There have even been a few heavy make-out sessions, but nothing like this kiss. Hungry, desperate, intense.

Jayden devours me, pressing me so close to the counter that our bodies mold together. I reach up, tangling my fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, if it's even possible.

His tongue owns my mouth, his breath mingling with mine, his scent in my nostrils, his touch all over me. He's invading every one of my senses; all I can feel is Jayden.

And I don't want it to ever end.

My chest flips again at that realization.

Before I can linger on the revelation for too long, Jayden's hand runs down from my hip to my knee and the hem of my skirt. His hand shifts position, so it's running along the inside of my thigh on the way up.

Achingly slow, leisurely exploring my skin at a pace that starkly contrasts the way he's still consuming my mouth.

Liquid heat pools in my core, and I arch my back, trying to get even closer to him. I have to hold in a damn whimper, wishing his hand would get to where I need it.

Jayden's mouth disappears, and I pull in one heavy breath before his lips attach to my neck, slowly kissing their way down. I throw my head back, giving him better access, my hands roaming his shoulders, holding on for dear life.

"Shit, I've missed this," Jayden groans against my skin, sending shivers through me. Some go straight to my panties, which are already soaked, others go to my nipples, straining against the thin fabric of my shirt.

And some go to that god damned traitorous organ behind my pericardium, flipping and flopping like this is some techno party.

An emotion clogs my throat, making it impossible for me to answer him. It's the same one that's making my heart act like a toddler on crack.

It's a little more than affection. Something like... like... like-

Oh, fucking shit.

It hits me like a freight train, and my previously hazy brain becomes painfully clear within literal milliseconds.

How did I let this happen?

I gasp, my hands clutching Jayden even harder. My muscles all tense simultaneously, my body preparing for a fight or flight situation. Adrenaline and regret flow through my veins, causing my breathing to pick up.

Jayden hasn't noticed yet. It happens too fast, my brain making one of those leaps in understanding, where everything is suddenly way too obvious.

Just as his fingers grace the outside of my panties, I jerk away, stepping to the other side than the arm caging me in.

Jayden falls forward by my sudden disappearance, catching himself against the counter. His head dips for a second before he lifts it, looking at me sideways.

There's a bit of amusement on his face as he peruses me. "You good, Fie?"

No.

I pull in a breath, doing my damndest to shift a mask into place. It's never been this important for me to master the poker face. Luckily, Jayden seems to be too consumed by lust to see the panic evident in my eyes.

My lips form a thin line, and I take a deep breath through the nose. Jayden straightens up, a lopsided grin on his face. I'm not sure what's going through his head, but after Friendsgiving, he might think this is another game.

Oh, how I wish it were.

But if this were a game, he'd have checkmate, and I would have no other option than to admit defeat.

His body makes a movement like he's about to take a step toward me, and I lift a hand to stop him. "You need to go."

Confusion fills his face as he bounces back on his heels, frowning. "Uh... What?"

He's too close. Just one step, and he would be in my space. He could reach out and touch me any second, and I'm scared of the hold his physical presence has on me.

My heart is beating erratically, any flipping long gone. I glance around the room. Fight or flight?

When Jayden does takes a step forward, I'm ready. I sidestep, and in a few movements, I'm standing on the other side of the kitchen island, several feet of sleek marble counter separating us, and god, do I hope it's enough.

I square my shoulder, brushing my hands down my shirt like I'm smoothing out creases. I hit him with my most dismissing look. I've used it on one-night stands a million times in the past. Just imagine he's small-dick-Jake.

"This is over." The words feel like acid exciting my mouth.

Jayden finally catches on to the change in my mood, and his face falls. His eyes run around the room, landing on my face again. "What do you mean?"

"This." I gesture between us. "Our... arrangement, it's over."

Once upon a time, I told Jen that whatever was happening with Jayden was just a fling. That one day, it would be flung. This is me fulfilling that promise. I'm flunging us.

Jayden is standing so still that if it weren't for the steady rise of his chest, I would think he was a statue. His nostrils flare, and I can practically feel the hostility radiating off him. I blink, ignoring the pressure behind my eyes.

"Explain," he demands in a tight voice.

"There's nothing to explain," I say coolly. "We agreed that this would go on for as long as we were both having fun. Well, I'm no longer having fun."

That's the truest thing I've said in the past ten minutes. No part of this is fun.

"So." I send him a cordial smile, indicating at the front door with a tilt of my head. "You should probably go."

"No."

I lift an eyebrow at his tone. His hands are gripping the counter in front of him with so much force that his knuckles are turning white.

"No?" I ask, trying to keep my voice pleasant.

"No, I won't allow you to do this. I won't allow you to walk away when things get a little bit real again!"

I resist crossing my arms over my chest, feeling the indignation making my blood boil. How dare he? "Allow me? Who the hell do you think you are?"

"I'm someone who cares about you, Sophie," he says, so much emotion filling his voice; anger, exasperation, affection. "It takes two to tango, and I won't let you make all the decisions in this relationship by yourself."

I scoff, looking away, my mind reeling from the direction this conversation has taken. Stop means stop; this isn't a two-person consent sort of transaction. If I want to end this, there is nothing he can do to stop me. "You sound so privileged right now."

"I do? I sound privileged?" Jayden asks incredulously. When I glance at him, he's staring at me with wide eyes, looking a few seconds from madness. "Are you kidding me? You're the most privileged person I know! Living the way you do without any consequences."

The implication of his words hits me square in the chest, and I scowl at him. "My lifestyle has consequences too."

"Is that so?" he asks