✦ ❦ ✦What Bestfriends Do✦ ❦ ✦

❈❈Riley Pov❈ ❈

I spent the entire next day pretending I was fine.

I sat at my desk with my laptop open, a fresh cup of coffee beside me, determined to write at least three solid pages. But every time I tried to focus, my mind drifted back to the park bench, to Jayson’s angry face, to the way his body had reacted when I touched him.

I hated how easily he was getting under my skin.

By afternoon, I gave up and called Mila.

“You busy?” I asked when she picked up.

“Never too busy for you. What’s wrong? You sound… weird.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” I lied smoothly. “Just bored. Want to grab lunch?”

We met at our favorite café. Mila spent most of the meal telling me about her father’s latest ridiculous demand at the company. I laughed in all the right places and dragged Cassie some more, turning last night’s fight into a funny story. Mila believed it. Or at least she pretended to.

But when I got back home, the silence hit me again. I poured a glass of wine and stood by the window, watching the city slowly light up as evening fell. For the very first time in a long time, I felt… restless. Lonely, almost.

My phone stayed quiet. No texts from Jayson.

I told myself I didn’t care.

At around 8:30 pm, there was a soft knock on my door.

I already knew it was him.

When I opened it, Jayson stood there in a dark gray sweater, looking worn out. His hair was slightly messy, and there were faint shadows under his eyes. He didn’t look like the confident, commanding man who had fucked me against the wall yesterday. He looked… human, and exhausted.

“Can I come in?” he asked, voice low.

I stepped aside.

He walked in and closed the door gently behind him. For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The tension from last night still lingered, but it felt different now — heavier.

“You really fucked things up with Cassie,” he said eventually, but there was no real bite in his voice. Just exhaustion. “My father called me at six in the morning. He’s furious. Said if any more drama surfaces, he’s reviewing the entire contract. Do you have any idea what that means for me?”

I crossed my arms, leaning against the kitchen counter. “So you came here to blame me again?”

Jayson let out a long breath and sat on the edge of my couch. He rubbed his face with both hands.

“I’m not blaming you,” he muttered. “I’m just… fuck, Riley. You don’t understand what this contract really means. It’s not just a relationship. It’s years of negotiations, millions of dollars, and my father’s entire legacy. If I break it, I lose everything. Not just money. Everything.”

Silence. Then he let out another loud sigh.

“I don’t know why I came here,” he admitted. “Maybe because you’re the only person in my life right now who doesn’t want something from me. Money. Status. Connections. You just… want me.”

The raw honesty in his voice caught me off guard.

He looked up at me, eyes tired but intense. “You think this fake relationship is easy? Every dinner, every event, every fucking I*******m post… it’s all scripted. My father reminds me almost daily what will happen if I step out of line. I lose the company. The trust funds. The only future I’ve ever been allowed to have. I feel like I’m suffocating, Riley.”

I walked over slowly and stood in front of him. He reached out and gently pulled me onto his lap, but this time there was no rush. His hands rested lightly on my waist, thumbs tracing small circles.

“I’m tired of pretending,” he whispered, forehead resting against mine. “But I don’t know how to stop. I feel like I’m drowning, and everyone keeps telling me to smile for the cameras.”

Something twisted in my chest. I didn’t like it.

I kissed him before I could think too much. The kiss started slow, almost careful. His hands moved up my back, not grabbing, just holding. When we finally made it to my bedroom, everything felt different.

He undressed me like he was memorizing every inch of me. His lips brushed along my collarbone, my breasts, my stomach — soft, lingering kisses that made my skin tingle. When he finally pushed inside me, it wasn’t hard or fast. It was deep and slow, his eyes never leaving mine.

We moved together in a rhythm that felt dangerously intimate. Every thrust carried weight. Every breath, every soft moan felt like a confession.

Afterwards, we lay facing each other on the bed. Jayson’s fingers gently traced patterns on my arm while I tried to steady my breathing.

“You scare me,” he said quietly.

I frowned. “Why?”

“Because I’m starting to look forward to your texts. To seeing you. And I know I shouldn’t.”

I hated how safe it felt.

“You should go,” I whispered, even though I didn’t want him to.

Jayson stayed quiet for a moment, then kissed my forehead.

“Yeah… I should.”

But he didn’t move for another twenty minutes.

When he finally left, I locked the door behind him and leaned against it, eyes closed.

*This is dangerous,* I told myself.

I walked back to my desk and opened my laptop. The document titled “Sex Exploration” stared back at me. For the first time, I wasn’t sure if I was writing fiction anymore.

Because the scariest part wasn’t that Jayson was starting to care. But losing control and that didn’t scare me as much as it should have.

And worse Part of me didn’t want to be.