Page 134 of Sour Notes

Is Haven right? Are we blurring lines with the whole fake relationship thing?

Because I live with this man, and sure we’ve had a couple of situations—teeny, tiny drunk errors of judgement—but for the most part… ugh, this is gonna sound bad, but, he was almost part of the furniture.

Ever since we moved next door as kids, he was always there. We were inseparable. Obviously that friendship evolved when I dated Pete, but Swayze was still that same constant. The safe, reliable, fun guy I grew up confiding in when Niko wasn’t around and hell, even when he was.

We never flirted.

We never even made out during spin the bottle for fuck’s sake.

I don’t even think he realized I grew tits and I certainly wasn’t doodling our names in a heart on my notepad—okay, full disclosure, I did that once… but I felt so stupid, I ripped it straight out and trashed it before Niko saw.

This is my long-winded way of saying that our first drunken kiss… and ahem… was an anomaly.

But now I keep looking at him like I’m on a diet and he’s a pineapple, extra cheese pizza. I’m two seconds from binging the entire box then licking it clean.

Goddammit.

I’m literally struggling to keep my eyes—and limbs—off this man.

In private. Which is against all the damn rules.

It isn’t just because of how he looks… I’m starting to wonder if it runs deeper.

He doesn’t just make me feel safe.

He sees me.

If this is all an act, he should’ve gone to Hollywood not PD, because I’m pretty sure he could fool anyone into falling in love with him.

Love?

Jesus, slow your roll, Mia.

No, this isn’t a grand love confession. It’s just… an observation.

I’m not falling for the guy.

It’s nice. I’m glad he’s here with me.

That’s all.

“Earth to Mia?” He braces himself on his forearms and looks over at me.

Oh god. Thank fuck he can’t read my mind. What am I doing even thinking about toxic little four letter words?

Tilting his head, he eyes me curiously, shaggy waves flopping over his forehead in the cutest way.

Shit. What did he say again?

“Uhh… sorry, what?”

He peers over his sunglasses at me, arching a brow.

Hot.

“Was breakfast okay?” he repeats dryly, the hint of a smirk on his handsome face.

Leaning back, I mirror his pose, super chill, smirking right back. I got this.