“I miss those days,” she sighs, as we watch Monica walk down the aisle. I know what she means, and something in my chest sinks. I want to pull away and let her live her memory alone when she continues. “Not the wedding. Just that feeling of togetherness. Having friends to experience the highs and lows of life with you. I miss it.”

I shrug. Ally feels the rise and fall of my chest and looks up with a frown. “You don’t miss it?”

“I never had it.”

“Oh, come on. No old friends from Denton Academy that you raised hell with? If memory serves me well, I remember Denton guys having quite the reputation.”

I shake my head with a smile. Oh, I raised hell. Shit, I was legendary. But she’d never know that.

“I never had friends like that. I don’t even have friends like that now,” I tell her.

Ally lets her hand drift until it finds mine. She squeezes, her eyes smiling like they’ve just found a shiny, new penny. “Well…you have me. I’m your friend, right?”

Friend. Friend.

Is that what I am to her? Is there any other option?

I came into this with intentions of being something different. Her teacher. Her advisor. Her guide.

But then…then I wanted to be something else. Her friend, yes, but unconsciously, I thought that I would mean more. Something deeper.

Her lover.

I wanted to be this woman’s lover. This married woman’s lover.

As jaded and selfish and all–around fucked up as it makes me, it’s what I want. And even knowing that this could never be, I still want that illusion. I want to dig my heart out with a teaspoon and set it aflame, when I can clearly see how it will destroy me. That this woman—this delicate little dove—will destroy me.

“We are.” It’s all I can say without giving way to my true feelings. Without analyzing all the coulda-shoulda-wouldas that currently run through my head.

I squeeze the side of her arm and look back at the TV. Joey is officiating, and he tells Monica and Chandler to kiss once more. I laugh. Because that’s what a friend would do.

SEX, LIES, VIDEO TAPE AND PREGNANCY RUMORS?

Upper East Side socialite, Evan Carr, was caught with another woman while leaving a secluded clinic in Hoboken yesterday, dressed in plain clothing, a baseball cap and dark shades. The woman, also dressed similarly, appears to be the same woman from the sex tape that surfaced a week ago.

Rumors of infidelity are nothing new for the 29-year-old Manhattan playboy, and sources say that the woman in the tape and photographs is actually wife Allison Elliot-Carr’s best friend, Kelsie van Weiss. Kelsie and Allison both attended St. Mary’s Prep and even studied at Columbia together. According to sources close to the couple, Allison has indeed left their penthouse home in the city and has checked into a treatment facility for an addiction to painkillers, sparked by the cheating fallout. No word on which center at this time, but stay tuned for the latest breaking news…

I read the story again. Then again, hoping that I’ve misread. I mean, it’s the internet. Shit gets twisted, turned around and lost in translation. This can’t be correct. So what if I’m still basking in the rose-colored haze left behind by Ally’s presence last night. Something this awful, this disgusting, this hurtful can’t happen to her. Not even a prick like Evan could stoop thatlow.

I close the Google alert on my phone and scroll to my contacts. Heidi picks up on the first ring.

“I’m on it, Drake,” she snaps over the blaring sounds of car horns and shouting food vendors.

“Tell me this shit isn’t true.”

“What? You read Page Six, right? It’s all over E! and TMZ.”

“I know.” I silently scold myself for giving Evan too much credit. Of course, he would be that vile. It’s his true nature. That’s what happens when two ain’t-shit people procreate. They birth ain’t-shit kids that grow up to be ain’t-shit husbands.

“Like I said, I’m on it. We’ve already leaked check-in information for Mrs. Carr. Even some photos of her enjoying a massage and a facial that we pulled from your security. Everything will check out on her end. As for Evan…nothing we can do there.”

“And you ensured the header is displayed on the documents?” For tax purposes, Oasis is technically an ultra-exclusive spa. Few people know it exists, and even fewer actually know its location. The pap wouldn’t even know where to look.

“Yes, of course, Justice. This isn’t my first rodeo, you know.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Heidi asks, annoyance in her voice. When it comes to business, Heidi is about as no-nonsense as it gets. She isn’t challenged often– she has no reason to be. Her reputation speaks for itself.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, feeling a migraine digging its way from my eyelids to my temples. Definitely not the way I had planned to spend my Saturday morning. “I thought I asked you to have someone on Evan?”

“And I did! We can’t monitor his every move, Justice. I actually have other clients, you know.”

“I don’t give a damn about your other clients, Heidi. Take care of this.” Knocking resonates from the front door, and I jump to my feet, anxious and irritated. “Look, fix this shit. The last thing Ally needs is bullshit addiction rumors. Do whatever you need to do.” End.

I stalk to the front door, my patience diminishing with each step. Too preoccupied, I yank it open without bothering to look out the peephole.

Ally’s gaze sweeps my frame, eyes wide with curious delight, and those red locks illuminated by the bright morning sun. She’s dressed in jeans, a green silk camisole and a purple cardigan, more casual than I’ve ever seen her. However, I’m less than decent in soft flannel pajama pants…and nothing else.

“Well, good morning,” she smiles slyly, sliding through the door, her shoulder grazing mine. She’s holding a brown paper sack and goes straight to the kitchen to set it down. She’s comfortable here. She’s comfortable with me.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, quickly closing the door, but not before checking to make sure no one followed her here.

“Yeesh, you’re grumpy in the morning. For your information, I wanted to surprise you with something totally sweet and awesome, but I can leave if you want.” She flips her hair dramatically and makes her way back to the door. I step into her path before she can even get close.

“Sorry, uh, I just wasn’t expecting you,” I say, gazing down at her, resisting the urge to take my finger and free her bottom lip from its cute, little pout. “And I had a rough morning. Please stay. I could use something totally sweet and awesome.” I flash her a grin, just to soften her up. A face that gentle, that delicate, should never frown.

“Are you mocking me, Drake?” she smirks.

“Maybe. Depends on what you’ve got in that bag.”

Ally smiles, and warmth sweeps over me. Not the heat I feel when I imagine her tight, little body under mine. But real, palpable, comforting warmth. Her smile is the sun—bright and infectious. I’d rather go blind from staring than be without it.

She turns back around and sets the bag on the counter. “Well, it’s your lucky day, because honestly, this is as much of a treat for me as it will be for you.” She begins to unpack her paper sack, splaying things on the marble countertop. “First—breakfast! Your friend Riku—who is a total, freakin’ hottie, by the way—hooked me up with my favorite brunch food ever, fried chicken and waffles!” She uncovers a large Tupperware and the mouthwatering scents of fried batter, spices and syrup fill the room. My stomach rumbles in approval.

“You eat chicken and waffles?” I ask, stepping forward to get a better look at the piping hot, deep-fried fare.