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Trent and I stare at Oliver with gaping expressions. He finally snaps out it, shaking his head and then...then really taking us in.

I shriek and Trent throws the paper towel roll in his hands at Oliver's head. "GET OUT!"

Oliver sees it all – me on my back, Trent covering me, and potentially his friend's semen – and then screeches back. "WHAT THE FUCK?"

While he leaves, Trent makes quick work of throwing on his pyjamas bottoms and wiping me down with a tea towel while I throw on my – well, his – discarded hoodie.

In the living room, Oliver's voice resonates loudly. "God forgive me, for I have sinned. But not enough to witness what I just did."

It's a mortifying moment if I'm being honest. One of our best friends just caught us after having sex. While I should feel triggered, Trent and I share an amused look and burst out laughing.

I'm already over it because I remember the news Oliver has broken to us.

"I can't believe she said no," Trent says, shocked, tugging his hair with his fingers.

I'm almost not entirely surprised. My mind replays the night of New Year's Eve and the whole suspiciousness of it. "My heart is aching for him," I tell him in a hushed tone. "We need to do something."

Trent's nodding his head and pulling out a kettle. "He needs to eat. I feel like caffeine and sugar might do him good. Or something. I'm not a doctor, but it'll cheer him up, yeah?"

I go to him. "Let me help you."

He shakes his head and gives me a fierce kiss. "No, baby. Go change."

Casting him a dubious expression, I say, "Why?"

The corners of his mouth twitch and he pulls me closer by the waist. He's so handsome, even more so with the morning light seeping through the window and hitting him in the perfect angles. I brush my hand over his clean-shaven jaw, taking in the dark lashes framing those baby blues, the sex-tousled hair, and his tanned skin glowing with perspiration from our love making.

"You have cum stains all over your skirt," Trent says mischievously. "Can't have a conversation with Oliver like that."

"Oh." I frown, glancing down at my ruined skirt. "I guess I like knowing that you put that there." Like he'd laid his claim on me, in a very animalistic sense.

Trent groans, looking skyward. He does that oftentimes when he needs an extra shred of patience or something. It causes his Adam's apple to bob and I love that, so I raise myself on my tippy-toes and peck it.

I lay cotton-soft kisses on his neck, before he curses. "Baby, stop. Please. Not here."

I pout at him.

He swats my behind. "Go change. I'll follow suit."

I sigh. "Fine."

Needing to pee anyways, I leave the kitchen, only to find Oliver sitting down on the sofa, looking to be in absolute misery and heartbreak.

He sees me and his cheeks tinge pink, even though his eyes have a sheen coat of moisture. "Cher, I'm so sorry," he apologizes, but it doesn't even matter.

My features soften. "Oli, it's okay. You never have to say sorry. Just...give me a moment to change and be with you, okay?"

"Right." He coughs in his fist. "I'm, uh, yeah. I'll wait here."

* * *

We're all siting at the dining room table after I took a quick body shower, nursing coffees and pancakes with cherry sauce. The atmosphere is pinched and awkward – the only sound is our cutlery scratching along plates.

"I'm really sorry," Oliver mumbles again, releasing a sad sound that knocks the sails out of him, his tall frame sagging in the chair. "I should have called before coming."

I reach forward to grab his hand at the same time that Trent clasps his shoulder in that way guys do to comfort each other. "Oli, it's okay. You don't have to talk about it, but we'd like to listen if you're willing."

He scoffs, before palming his face. "I don't even know where to begin."

"From the start," Trent offers softly then winces as he adds, "How did you, um, propose?"

"This morning I made breakfast for Inga, thinking I'd bring it to bed. She'd already woken up and joined me in the kitchen," he said, his throat working with emotions. "I thought, fuck it. This is the time. I'll ask her and we can work everything else out afterwards. I love her and she loves me, right? That's what should have mattered."

Sensing he needs to vent out his frustration, Trent and I gaze at each other and keep our comments to ourselves for now.

"I got down on one knee and presented the ring to her. Before I could say anything, she started crying and said no. She said she could never marry me for reasons I just wouldn't understand. Reasons that were beyond me, or some bullshit like that. It didn't make sense to me. If it's her parents, they'd come around, right? Shit. We just bought a place together. That means something, does it not?"

"It does, Oliver. I can only imagine what you're feeling, man. This is fucked up and unexpected," Trent says finally, squeezing his shoulder. "We're all here for you. Anytime."

"I know." Oli smirks, but it's without humour and filled with bitterness. "She broke up with me. She said she can't be with me now. I didn't listen to the rest of her excuses; I just left and came here."

We don't blame him. What I would have done in that kind of situation?

We give Oli a distraction and keep the conversation light. Something is itching me, namely the night of the New Year's Eve party. I want to tell Oli because I feel like if I don't, it might not be fair. The exchange between Inga and that sketchy guy didn't sit well with me.

"Oli, I have to tell you something," I start, my hands fidgeting a little.

I have the attention of both men now. "The night of the New Year's Eve party, when you were looking for Inga, I found her having a conversation with, um, an older looking guy. It seemed oddly confident and kind of bizarre. I didn't think she was in trouble or cheating on you, so I didn't say anything in order not to cause further confusion. Now I'm thinking I should have just told you."

Oli's golden eyes widen, and his fist bangs slightly on the table. "What?"

So, I relay every bit of information I can remember, saving the part where the terrifying guy intimidated me. I don't want to get Trent riled up for no reason.

Five minutes later, Oli runs out of our place to confront Inga and fix things.

Thirty minutes later, Oli texts to inform us that the whole place is left in a whirlwind of a mess and that Inga is gone.

No trace of her is left.

* * *

The new semester is already kicking my ass. The first three weeks were easy and trickled by in a blur. Now deadlines are looming and I'm struggling to balance work as a hostess, school, and a relationship.

Trent and I make time for each other, but it's mostly stolen moments. We haven't been able to hang out alone in awhile.

After my shift on a Friday night, Teagan comes to pick me up. We head straight for my dorm where I grab a quick shower, before driving off to Tara's parents' house to hang.

My phone has been blowing up with text messages from France. The months since I arrived back in Vancouver were so chaotic that I never had enough time to properly communicate with those I left behind.

The group chat lights up with all my friends from France.

I have a dorky smile on my face as I catch up with them. I tell them everything that's happened in my life, especially about my new boyfriend. They demand to see a picture of Trent. Because his IG is private and they can't stalk him, I sent them screenshots of his photos. For the heck of it, I throw in a shirtless picture taken right after one of his football games.

They reply with heart eyes and squirting emojis.

"Who are you texting?" Teagan asks as she drives.

"I'm sorry – that's rude of me." I lock and put my phone away. "It's just my friends from Paris demanding updates. I sent them a picture of Trent and they approve."

Teagan laughs girlishly. "I'm happy to hear that. Has he met your mom, yet?"

"Yes! Last week actually." I'm grinning like a lovesick fool at the memory of Trent showing up for dinner at my childhood home with a box of red velvet cupcakes and bouquet of red roses for my mother.

Of course, he'd won her instantly with his intellectual conversation, charming grin, and smoldering looks. Then my mom proceeded to embarrass me by telling Trent that she and his mom knew I'd been smitten with him my WHOLE life.

I wanted to earth to open and swallow me.

He'd winked at us playfully before taking a sip of wine and saying he already knew I'd been smitten with him, because so had he.

"By the way, it's not certain yet, but my mom and I are most likely going to Paris for the week of spring break."

Teagan lowers the radio to better focus on our conversation. "No way! How come?"

"My aunt Jacqueline keeps bugging us. She's the one I stayed with while living in Paris. My mom misses her sister and they haven't seen each other three years. We're only going for a week because that's all the time Northwind High is giving her."

"That sounds like fun. Did you guys book your tickets yet?"

"Soon. I'm waiting on my mom for confirmation."

It's not long before we reach the Simmons residence, a massive property uphill with golden gates and all that jazz. Tara's parents love extravagance and they aren't afraid to flaunt their wealth.

Tara's languidly leaning against a white pillar when Teagan parks.

"My favorite girls in the whole wide world!" she hollers, and her voice carries through our open windows. "I'm freezing my ass off, come inside!"

* * *

We start watching He's Just Not That Into You with boozy ice cream cocktails and potato wedges in the basement home theater.

"Have you started searching for places yet?" Tara asks Teagan as she pops a maraschino cherry in her mouth.

Teagan reclines in her chair. "Kind of, but nothing serious. I'm taking my time. I want to be sure since I'll be signing a year's long lease at least."

"That's fair." I scoop a huge bite of ice cream. "I'm really sorry neither of us have any decent alternatives for you. I mean, you could take my bed and I'll sleep on the floor of our dorm room. Sara won't mind."

Teagan chuckle-snorts. "As if I would bother you guys with my baggage."

"You're never bothering us." Tara throws a wedge at her head. "Don't say shit like that. You're our best friend and we are so happy to have you back."

I want to prod her for what happened in Boston, to know what screwed with her so bad, but I know right now is just not the right time. Instead, I turn to Tara. "How are you dealing with the whole Calvin thing?"

Tara shrugs, eyes glued on Scarlett Johansson. "It's not really a big deal. We were having fun. Nothing serious, at least on my part. He kept urging me for more, but something in the back of my mind always lingered that it wasn't a good idea to make it official. Obviously, when I caught him using drugs, I told him I was done. I don't need that shit in my life."

"I get it," Teagan murmurs. "Sometimes you just want to have fun. Other times you want something substantial with no one of substance in sight. The last one hurts the most."

"Exactly," Tara says. "I think it's always been fun with different guys in the last few years because none of them were the falling-in-love type of material. They all just wanted one thing and, well, I know my worth, but I was okay with it because that's all I want right now too."

It gets quiet and my gaze darts between them both. "Really can't relate. I've already found the falling-in-love type and I'm keeping him."

They laugh a little and I suddenly think of Pierre. I wasn't ready for something serious more than a year ago when I met Pierre. But dammit, he had so much substance. He still does. If I'd been ready mentally, maybe Pierre would have been my falling-in-love type too.

Or maybe we only have one of those and mine always lay back home, waiting for me, for the right time, and for the universe to align itself.

"There's a guy out there for you." Teagan takes the words out of my mouth as she looks at Tara. "You need to be in the right mindset and give the right kinds of one a try."

"Yeah. You too, Teagan," Tara returns in all seriousness, her cocktail forgotten. "There's someone magical waiting out there for you."

Teagan rolls her eyes but laughs in agreement. "Okay, there Disney. I'll let you know when I find Prince Charming. If, lol, he even exists."

I take a look at both my best friends.

I think Tara is afraid of falling in love and having that love returned, because there is the possibility of you losing it. I remember Quentin and how much he loved Tara, and how that was enough for him. I know Tara didn't mirror the depth of his feelings, but she'd felt his love even though she couldn't reciprocate it the way she wanted too. And then she lost it, just when she thought she was deserving of someone like him. The regret of never being his or having returned a love like that probably still lingers in the darkest corners of her heart. It stops her from getting involved with the guys who know how to treat her right. She'd rather stick out with the wild, bad ones.

Teagan, on the other hand, has given that love a try, but it just wasn't in the cards for her. I think of her and Chris when she was seventeen, both completely infatuated with each other and how they'd been forced to rip away from each other before they could explore the deepness of their feelings. I think of her having to get an abortion...with an inkling telling me it had to do with an ex-boyfriend who didn't value her. She never told me, but she wouldn't have to because I just knew.

I know the happiness I feel right now with Trent, and I hope that my best friends can one day experience it with their right guys.

* * *

Wyatt and Jared are home, but they don't know that I'm here.

I have to be quiet, which I don't know how to do when Trent is pounding into me at a new sideways angle.

The room is dark and I'm standing against the window sill, one my knee propped up in a way that leaves me completely open for him. I barely had the time to take my pants off before he pounced on me.

The whole encounter is even hotter because if anyone walks down the street and glances up, they could probably see my silhouette and this big guy screwing me.

I feel my orgasm bubbling up. I also feel the scream threatening to explode out of me when I no doubt flood his cock with my arousal. Before it can escape, Trent shoves his fingers into my mouth. "Quiet, baby. Not a sound. Unless you want to get caught."

I whimper, but it's muffled by his wet fingers that taste like me.

He gives me a brief daredevil smirk as he slows his thrust, going from deep strokes to light shallow ones. I glare at him, feeling frustrated and so, so close.

But I know this is him teasing and savoring me, prolonging the inevitable.

The pads of my fingers circle my clit and Trent groans low in his throat at the sight – I love that he's so vocal. On a particular deep thrust that nearly causes me to lose balance, I squeal around his fingers and he chuckles, his chest rumbling.

"Don't you dare come," he warns, pinching my nipples through the thin fabric of my demi-cup bra. "I'm not done fucking you."

I cry, my hands coming to the window to brace myself as he really starts slamming into me with all his strength from behind. "Ah, fuck." He whispers dirtily at my ear. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I love watching your little pussy struggling to take all of me. Hurts in the best way, hmm, Cher?"

He said not to come, but I'm unable to obey him when he talks that way to me, when he treats me this good, this dirty, and when his cock hits the spot inside me that makes my toes curl and my world go blind.

I'm convulsing in pleasure as Trent jerks me off the window and moves me on the ground, so I'm on my hands and knees in our favorite position. Footsteps echo on the other side, along the hallway. I know the door is locked, but one sound from me and they'll all know what he's doing to me.

That thought gets me so hot. Getting caught. Maybe I'm twisted.

I shiver, but no noise escapes me as Trent clamps a hand over my mouth and proceeds to slam into me deeper and faster, until I feel his balls slapping my throbbing clit. Every moan of mine is muted, but Trent's rough grunts against my back ricochet in my mind like my very own choir.

I clench around him and he exhales harshly into my shoulder. "I'm fucking coming."

"Come inside me," I beg him when he releases my mouth.

He finishes with a hard masculine sound.

He turns me around, so I land on my back and he can watch his cum dribbling out of me. He licks his bottom lip and groans. "Oh, fuck. So good, baby."

Grabbing the same shirt he'd thrown off when I entered his room, he lovingly wipes me clean – my sensitive flesh and thighs – the complete opposite of how he treated me.

In this moment, I know I do love Trent.

My throat tightens and I try to hold back the tears from this overwhelming sensation.

My heart races so loud for him, does he know?

I gaze at him, feeling the shift in my heart as it moves to make more room for him. I don't know if I should sob or rejoice in happiness?

He leans down and kisses my mound, then leads those kisses higher, covering every inch of my torso and giving me a final one in the valley between my breasts. "Hi," he whispers, so mischievous and flirtatious. "How you feel, sweetheart?"

"Like I'm not walking tomorrow."

"Good. I feel like you broke my penis, so we're equal."

I wrap my arms and legs around him like I'm a baby opossum and hold on while I deal with the myriad of emotions flickering inside of me. I kiss his sweaty neck and shoulders.

He does the same, before biting my earlobe. "It never ceases to amaze me how your little, tight pussy takes me."

I can't take this much more. There's all these layers to Trenton Reynolds and every day I discover a new one. Protector. Rescuer. Goof ball. Nasty and fierce lover. Tender boyfriend.

"You look so fucking cute, you know that." He kisses my nose. "All rumpled and adorable."

I cup his jaw in both hands and for a moment, we just breathe each other in. Trent's smile fades as some sort of understanding dawns upon him.

He leans down at the same time that I tilt my head up, and we kiss the rest of the moment away.

* * *

We're lying on his bed after having washed up and eating dinner. My head on his shoulder, I gently trace his stomach muscles.

"I have a question," he murmurs into my hair.

"Hmm."

"How did you manage to stich my initials into my cock sock?"