I'm brushing my teeth, looking around my place for the shirt I threw on my couch that is now missing. There's a loud thump, making my eyes veer over to the egress window. Blue's face is pinched with an adorable murderous expression. Brows in a straight line, mouth pressed in a hard puffy line as if she's ready to snarl, and those massive blue eyes gleaming with a promise of retribution that's probably the equivalent to a tiny dog bite.

"You're a dead man," she yells as she smacks her hands against the window. "Now open up so I can kill you!"

I hold up my finger to the future suspect of my murder and go to the bathroom to finish up. When I come back out I notice my shirt has fallen under the couch, but opt for remaining bare because it drives Blue nuts.

My hands press against the molding around the window as I lean forward with only the glass separating me from a glowering puppy.

"That's not the password, Blue."

"Let me in," she says irritably.

"No can do. I have a date to get to and I'd like to keep this handsome face intact."

Her nose wrinkles. "Tell me, is it really that fun to mess with me and tick me off?"

"It's right up there with hockey," I state with a smirk.

"I want my baby. Give it back," she demands with a punch to my window.

She freezes when her foot hits something and I glance down. The stray cat I've become friends with decided to leave me a little surprise.

Blue's face morphs to horror. "Is that a dead rat? Oh my gosh!" She lets out a loud shriek. "Tariq, please let me in."

I lean against the sill. "How about this: I let you in, you keep your hands to yourself and I'll let you listen to the proposition I have for you."

Her eyes narrow with suspicion. "Yeah, I think I'd rather not hear it."

"What if I said it's to do with British lover boy?"

She rolls her eyes. "Fine. Now please let me in!"

I unlock the window and open it up. She literally dives headfirst, making me thank God for blessing me with awesome reflexes. I catch her before her face meets the floor. Her soft hair slides on my arm and I take in how pretty she looks today. No doubt for the British dude from her class.

Those eyes are bigger and brighter than usual, one from terror mixed with rage, second from her makeup. Her blue eyes pop, framed by thick black and curled lashes, and those lips...

God.

They're perfect.

Hell, I was close to tasting them earlier.

I'm not going to lie. When I came back here after classes and saw a little smudge of lipstick left on my skin from where I had barely grazed her lips, I felt good.

Too good.

My mouth dries at the memory. They looked so smooth and supple. It had taken all my self-control not to move my mouth that small fraction and demand entrance.

That would've gone too far.

She's in a new outfit, which is just as conservative as the other one from earlier. A long white collared sleeve shirt buttoned all the way up and tucked into a black skirt with black tights. The woman shows not an inch of skin and yet with her makeup and thick fluffy hair curled, she looks sexy as hell.

The wind is knocked out of me and I stumble back trying to catch my breath.

The little vixen kneed me in the balls.

"First," she says strictly like the future teacher she will be, finger-pointing and all. "I won't be coming over here anymore if you don't clean that up. Second, that's for almost kissing me and making everyone believe we're a couple."

Once I can breathe again I stretch to my full height. "I thought I said to keep your hands to yourself."

"I did," she pauses. "My knee isn't a hand."

"Got it. Next time I'll list all body parts."

She crosses her arms huffing, "For goodness sakes put on a shirt."

"Aw baby, my body isn't doing it for you as it did earlier?"

She flushes. "Not even a little, Araneo."

I move around her, purposely grazing my naked torso against her crossed arms. Bending down I swipe up my shirt and put it on. "What if I talk in a British accent."

"Your attempt at an accent is terrible."

I flop down onto my couch. "Ready to hear my proposal?"

"If it involves a ring, I promise you my answer is no," she states, plopping right next to me. The thing I really appreciate about my buddy is that she's quick to forgive and has clearly moved past the conundrum. "But continue."

"We pretend to date," I say bluntly.

She gives me the most hysterical look. Her face is scrunched in like an accordion with a brow lifted into her bangs and crooked lips slightly parted. "Um, and uh, why? Why? WHY?"

I laugh and lean over resting my elbows on my knees. "I'm an image booster and if you're really into Elliot-"

"Ellis."

"Sorry, you're right. Let me rephrase. British lover boy."

She rolls her eyes.

"Pretend you're dating me and you'll be on his radar very quickly."

She shakes her head chuckling as her tongue touches the roof of her mouth. "Well, he's already noticed me. And if you remember correctly, he brought me coffee this morning and even asked me out on a date."

"Oh young, naïve Blue," I say, wagging my finger at her.

"What?" she asks, confused.

"He's looking for a quick lay," I say straight to the point, which earns me a smack on my arm.

"Now that one was your hand"

"And how would you know that?" She sings condescendingly in that ridiculously low sexy voice of hers.

"Cause I'm a guy. Trust me, Blue, if you want serious, which I'm guessing you do. You don't want to make it easy for him."

"I didn't," she defends. "I actually rejected his offer."

Well, hats off to Blue.

"Good. But now you have to seem unattainable. Guys want what they can't have."

She's starting to look intrigued. "Why would dating you be the answer?"

I lean back. "He's new and decent looking-"

"Uh, he's gorgeous," she snorts and sings at the same time.

"Eh, decent," I retort. "Anyways, he's going to get popular and have options, especially if he gets into a frat. You're going to have some stiff competition coming, and soon. Pretend to date me and you'll have him hooked, I promise."

She's contemplating it. "What's in it for you?"

"Go to the dean."

She cocks her head back, holding her palms up. "Of course that's what you want."

"I'll go with you."

She shakes her head, getting up and grabbing her N64. "No, I'll go myself. I have a meeting with him tomorrow anyway."

My brows lift in surprise. "Seriously? You agree that easily?"

"I've been considering it for a while now."

"Wow, you must really want British lover boy."

"Stop saying that," she bites out. "My car's been running. I've got to go."

"Study tomorrow with a possible game night? I ask.

"Sure," she answers with a lift of a shoulder. She goes to climb out of the egress window that I'll be cleaning for her first thing tomorrow. She pauses then turns around. "If you're my pretend boyfriend doesn't it look bad that you're going on a date with another girl."

I place my palm against the wall next to her head, leaning in. "We can have an open relationship."

She nods accepting that answer with not an ounce of hesitation. "Fine, but no more almost kissing me. In fact, no kissing anything at all."

Nope.

Not following that rule.

She must really like this guy and something about that gets to me, right under my skin. It makes me want to pull her in for a kiss right now and swipe any memory of Elliot clean from her mind.

My voice drops a little. "And how are we supposed to get people to believe we're a thing if we don't lock lips every once in a while?"

She rolls her eyes. "There are other ways to show displays of affection, like hand-holding."

"I don't hold hands."

"Well, you're going to start." She spins hotly on her heel and hoists herself up into the window, giving me a lovely view of her pretty...

"Don't you dare," she hisses, catching where my eyes had traveled too.

My mouth turns upward.

I smack her butt.

She yelps, almost stepping on the dead rat and dropping her precious treasure. She miraculously manages not to. "Gosh, you're unbelievable. Friends don't smack each other's butts."

"Oh, we do. Ask Beau and Winston. Heck, ask anyone on the team. I mean, most of the times it's a towel snap in the locker room but from time to time it's hand on-"

"Okay, I don't need to hear anymore. My lady bits are not up for grabs or smacks."

"That's a shame."

"Shut it, Araneo."

She goes up the steps that lead down to my window but stops, turning a little to face me. "Where are you taking her?"

My brows pinch together. "Who?"

She gives me a deadpan look. "Becca."

"Oh. That little Italian restaurant on-"

"Shaver?"

"Yeah," I answer.

"Cool. See you later."

"Look forward to it, Blue."