“Kahlua, Pineapple, and Rum Punch?”

Demetri howled with laughter and began clapping.

“Seriously. Best party trick ever.”

“Clearly you’ve been to all the wrong parties if you think sniffing candy wrappers is the way to go.” I rolled my eyes.

“Or just the wrong parties in general.” He shrugged, his smile gone. I wanted it back and I hated that he was making me care for him.

“So…” I leaned back against the pillows. “You came all the way to my house to tell me about your three taffy flavors?”

“Sort of.” He lay down next to me — it was almost too intimate. The last time I lay down with a guy on the bed… I jolted up and began pacing in front of him.

He lifted his eyebrows in confusion but kept talking anyway. “I saw your parents and asked where you were. Weird, but your mom knew exactly who I was.”

I nodded. “Figures. She has a slight obsession with Entertainment Tonight. ”

He cringed. “You’d think that would make her want to shoot me.”

“She likes the bad boy.” I smiled. “So? You asked her where our house was so you could torture me?”

“Torture?” His dimples killed me. “Is that what’s happening between us?”

Panic swept through me as I felt my face heat under his seductive smile. He was the devil. Why couldn’t he bother someone else? Was he truly that desperate? Couldn’t rock stars pay people to hang out with them? At least he had the luxury of money and the choice to do whatever he wanted with it.

“Sure feels close.” I huffed, blowing my shorter layers of hair away from my face. “Anyway, thanks for stopping by, now if you’ll just…” I pointed to the door.

Demetri didn’t move.

Of course not.

“Nope, I came to find you for a reason, and it wasn’t torture.

Though I’d love nothing more than to bring you so much pleasure that you scream my name.”

I felt myself blush as I looked away.

“I want us to be friends.”

“Excuse me?” I was in the process of taking off my sweatshirt, so I could jump in the shower, only it got caught on my head, making me run into the dresser.

“Friends.” I could feel his warm body inches from mine, his hands reached up and tugged the sweatshirt off me, leaving me feeling naked as his eyes boldly scanned my body. “I want to be your friend.”

The way he said friend reminded me of the way the shark in Finding Nemo chased Marlin in hopes to be friends not food.

“Friends,” I repeated.

“Friends.” He leaned closer, finally resting his forearm on the wall above my head.

“I have friends.”

“You said they moved away.”

“So I have one friend.”

“Really?” He looked intrigued.

Crap. I was the worst liar ever. “Yup, I have a friend.”

“What’s your friend’s name?”

My eyes darted to the floor. He even had nice Converse shoes that seemed expensive, even though I knew they weren’t.

Ugh. “Sally.”

“Sally?” He laughed. “Is she eighty?”

I tilted my chin up. “Nope, and we have plans today.”

“You do?” He wasn’t buying it. His grin seemed to widen as my lie got bigger.

“Yup, so if you’ll just excuse me. I’m going to be late.”

With a chuckle, he pulled back and went to the door.

“Alright, Lyssa, I’ll give you this one. You know where to find me, if you need a… friend.”

“No, I don’t.” Crap. The words were out before I could stop them.

“Oh.” He winked. “How rude of me. Here.” He put a slip of paper in my hand and kissed my knuckles. “Have fun with Patty.”

“It’s Sally!” I called.

“Right.” His laugh echoed through the house as he left.

My hand was clenched tightly around the slip of paper he gave me. Unable to stifle my curiosity, I pulled it open and laughed. It had his cell number, his home number, his agent’s number, his email, his Facebook and LinkedIn profile, as well as his address.

Now that was interesting. Mrs. Murray was his neighbor. I’d always been curious about who owned the gorgeous beach house next door to hers. Now I knew. At least I lived a few miles away from him. It was hard enough knowing that we’d been seeing the same shrink.

I threw the piece of paper in the trash. Impossible. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t be his friend. When you were friends with boys, it never worked. It always turned into something more, and then when you got really close, the one person you swore you’d give your everything to, leaves. Clearly, I was still struggling with past demons.

Emotion welled in my throat. They leave you with nothing, but sharp jagged pieces of your memories together. Each time I wore the sweatshirt, it was like another cut. Each time I saw the Justin Bieber poster, the cut got deeper.

But as long as I was cutting myself emotionally and not physically… At least I felt pain. At least I knew it was real.

A tear escaped from my eye and dropped to the floor before I could brush it away.

I glanced back at the trash can.

Muttering a curse, I retrieved the paper. Just in case.

**** I only kind of lied. I mean, I was visiting a friend. That is, if a friend is an insanely old seal that lives at the Seaside Aquarium.