Pretty Boy D: A Best Friends to Lovers Standalone (Kings of Cypress Pointe Book 4)

Joss

A warm hand moves slowly up my arm, then back down again. At first, I’ve got no clue where I am, but then it all rushes back to me.

The argument. Storming out of the house with nothing. Showing up at Dane’s door at around midnight.

And now, here I am, locked beneath his arm with my feet propped up on his coffee table beside two empty mugs. He’s still asleep beside me or… beneath me? We dozed in a strange position, with my head against his ribs while he leans against the arm rest. One of his feet are propped beside mine, the other planted on the floor.

He’s shirtless, so my cheek brushes over his bare skin when I move to sit upright. I notice the smoothness of it, but mostly, I’m trying to ignore how his sweats ride low on the divots in his waist. He’s always been fit, but dude’s gotten ripped these past few months. Be it out of frustration or as a means of distraction, working out like a beast has turned him into one.

My eyes travel up the mountain range that’s replaced his abs, and I stall at his pecs—perfectly molded sculptures of tanned flesh. He’s obsessive when it comes to manscaping, so he’s hairless, completely smooth from the waist up.

Kind of makes me wonder about what his situation is from the waist down.

“Morning.”

My eyes snap to Dane’s with a tiny, inward gasp when he speaks.

He saw me practically drooling over him. No way he missed that. The cheeky, half-grin he shoots me next tells me I’m right.

Shit.

“Sleep okay?”

His morning voice is raspy. Even more so than usual.

“Uh, yeah. Like a baby.”

Like a baby? Ugh. I should probably stop talking.

Averting my attention from him now, I push a hand up through the back of my hair, feeling myself tremble when I do. He yawns and stretches, and despite myself, my eyes are on him again. On that lean torso and trim waist. Then, my gaze naturally drifts lower.

Before he has a chance to realize I’m staring at his junk, I stand and head toward the kitchen, hiking the too-big sweats he loaned me last night higher on my waist. While I grab a glass and turn on the faucet, Dane shuffles down the hallway to the bathroom.

It isn’t until I’m alone that I’m finally able to breathe and re-center my thoughts. With each year we age, the line between us gets a bit more blurred. At twelve, I only saw him as the boy who mutilated another kid’s face for insulting me, but by fourteen, I had a full-blown crush. Who wouldn’t though? The Golden boys were at least six inches taller than all the other guys in school, and as natural-born athletes, they never quite looked like boys. They were always bigger and stronger than anyone else in our grade. Every guy wants to be them, every girl wants to be with them.

That came out wrong.

Almost every girl wants to be with them.

I’m content being something like a sister to West and Sterling, and BFFs with Dane.

Eventually, by around age sixteen, the crush faded, but the attraction still lingers. Picking up on Dane’s occasional lapses into bouts of weakness doesn’t help, but I like to think we’ve mastered the art of resisting. Likely, because we both fear what we’d lose if we didn’t.

“Hungry?”

I spin toward the sound of his voice, swallowing the last of my water before nodding.

“Whatcha got?”

He flashes a cheeky grin that says it all. “Cereal, cereal, and more cereal.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Well, cereal it is, I guess.”

A breath hitches in my throat when he steps closer, but I realize it’s only to reach above my head for two bowls. My eyes are glued to him as he moves around the kitchen, gathering two spoons, milk, and then one enormous box of Cheerios.

He places it all on the counter, then gestures for me to take the stool beside him.

I do. Cautiously, of course. He’s still shirtless and it takes so much effort not to stare.

“So, are you good?”

My eyes do flit toward him when he asks, but I glance down into my bowl again right after.

“All things considered, I’m okay.”

That’s the truth. Last night sucked, but life usually sucks a little less when he’s around.

“I did some thinking while you were snoring on me last night,” he teases.

Holding in a laugh, I shoot him a look, but he ignores it.

“Since you’re staying in the city, regardless of what your parents have decided, my offer only makes sense now.”

“Offer?”

Now I’m the one getting a look because we both know I know what he’s talking about. I was just stalling while I think of a good excuse.

“I’ve got an extra room, you need a room. I need someone to manage my accounts, you need a job. It just makes sense,” he reasons.

I glance at him fully this time, staring as he awaits a response.

There are so many reasons to tell him ‘no’ right now, but I can’t seem to remember any of them except that doing so could put our friendship on the line. However, I can’t exactly say that without exposing that I am, in fact, very attracted to him.

Rock.

Hard place.

Me, stuck right in the middle.

He picks up his phone to check the time. “It’s seven. I don’t have to return the moving truck until noon. There’s time to go to your place, load your things up, and still get it dropped off on time,” he says, arching a brow at me. “So, what do you say? Are we gonna be roomies?”

Not sure if he can tell this or not, but the idea of it has me absolutely terrified. Sure, it’ll be smooth sailing at first, but what about when it isn’t?

I’m pleading with my eyes, but he doesn’t let me off the hook.

“Dane, we’d have to set rules. Then, I’d feel like a bitch because this is your place, and you shouldn’t have to live by—”

“Interesting,” he croons, cutting in with a smirk that ends my rant. “What kind of rules?”

I get caught in his stare, feeling the pressure.

“Well, okay. Like, knocking before entering each other’s bedrooms or the bathroom,” I suggest.

“Done. What else?”

“We’d clean up our own messes,” I add.

“Done,” he says with that same easy-going tone.

Shit. Think bigger, Joss. Throw something difficult at him.

“No overnight guests of the opposite sex,” I add with a dim smile.

Ha! That should do it. No way Dane Golden will go months or potentially longer without the freedom to share his bed with a girl. But I do feel kind of weird about having just said that, especially since we both know that rule only applies to him for now.

He smirks and for a second I think I might have swayed him against this terrible, terrible idea, but then…

“Ok, no sleepovers. Got it. What else?” he counters without thought.

My chest feels tight with the realization that he’s not bending. Not even a little.

“I… guess that’s it,” I concede.

“Good. So, we’re doing this?” he asks, shoveling a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

“Yeah, I guess we are.” Despite myself, I smile at him.

“And you’ll take the job, too, right?” he adds, striking while the iron is hot.

I give that some thought, but eventually come to my senses. Now that my parents are cutting me off, I’m gonna need the cash. The only solid thing I have right now is that my tuition and book expenses are all covered, thanks to my scholarship. Outside of that? I’ve got nothing.

Dane’s staring when I nod. “I’ll take it.”

His face lights up and I guess mine does, too. It looks like this is actually happening. With any luck, we’ll make it through this adventure unscathed. I mean, it’s not like there’s gonna be a smoking hot guy sleeping right down the hall every night, right?

Right.

Now, if I can just keep telling myself that lie until I actually start believing it, this should work out great.

@QweenPandora: Okay, so… remember last night’s post about VirginVixen dropping by PrettyBoyD’s place? Well, she stayed parked outside his building all night. If I wasn’t suspicious before, I certainly am now.

Not sure about you guys, but where I come from, a guy and a girl claiming to be “just friends” don’t do overnight sleepovers.

My guess? These two are coming dangerously close to crossing the point of no return. That is, if they haven’t already. Keep you posted.

Later, Peeps.

—P