“Maybe not.” Despite myself, I feel a giggle bubbling up. “Or maybe yes!”

Ryan walks up close to the wall.

“Oh, Carrie, oh baby,” he says loudly. “Oh, baby, you are the best!”

I stare at him, speechless — what is he doing? — but then I get it. I scurry over next to him and join in. “Ryan! Ryan! I want more of you, now! Oh, God, that spot — yes! Right there! Right now!”

He starts smacking the wall rhythmically with the heel of his hand, faster and faster. Tears of laughter are streaming down my face.

“Carrie! Oh God! You’re so pink and wet and luscious!”

I clap my hand over my mouth at his words, holding back giggles.

“Ryan! Extend the spreader bar!” I pant and moan.

Ryan freezes and gives me an arched eyebrow, then slowly crosses his thick arms over his chest. His expression says, How in the hell do you know what a spreader bar is?

What? I’ve seen Fifty Shades Darker. Read it, too. It’s a requirement when you work at O.

Suddenly BANGBANGBANG at the door.

“Hey!” Kevin’s outraged voice shouts from the hall. “Keep it down in there! People are trying to sleep!”

For a moment, we are too amazed to make a sound. Then we fall onto the bed, laughing so hard we can’t breathe. Every time one of us subsides, the other one snorts with a giggle and we’re off again.

Finally I prop myself up on one elbow, and that’s when I notice the pastry dotting the bedcover.

“Oh no!” I jump up from the bed. “My dress is getting the bed dirty!”

Ryan stands up too, and surveys the damage. “It’s not too bad, mostly crumbs.” He folds the bedcover down. “But you should probably get out of that dress.”

Not meeting my eye, he adds, “Here, I’ll unzip you.”

Turning my back to him, I gather my hair and pull it forward. I wait. Nothing happens.

“Ryan?”

Then he’s behind me, his hands finding the zipper tab. He pulls it slowly, achingly slowly, his fingers brushing the skin of my back as they travel down. He’s standing so close, I can feel his body heat, his breath on my exposed neck making me shiver.

“Okay then, thanks!” I say a little too brightly, failing miserably at ignoring the flush of heat that just rushed across every inch of skin I possess. I grab my nightgown and robe from the closet and dash into the bathroom, closing the door behind me.

What was that? Just a little friendly help with a hard-to-reach zipper? Like you would do for a roommate, or a sister? It didn’t feel very brotherly.

It felt wonderful.

This is ridiculous. Ryan’s not interested in me, not that way. We’re pretending, that’s all. We’re friends. He’s doing me a favor, like he said to that person on the phone.

Anyway, Ryan’s straight. Straight guys aren’t attracted to me. It’s a proven fact. I brush my teeth.

Finally, I tie the belt of my robe tightly, take a deep breath, and reach forb the door handle. Wait — just a little spray of perfume behind my neck. Just to be considerate. It’s close quarters here.

Very close quarters, actually. One king-size bed. The bed that Jamey and I were supposed to be sharing.

When I emerge from the bathroom, all the lights are turned off except the soft glow of the desk lamp. Ryan’s standing at the window, his back to the room, looking out at the moon shining on the ocean. He’s wearing a t-shirt and soccer shorts, loose and comfortable.

I wonder if that’s what he wears to bed every night.

Or does he sleep naked?

My mouth goes dry.

“So,” I start. “Which side of the bed do you want?”

He doesn’t move. “Either one. You choose.”

His shoulders are so broad. One of his hands is on his hip, the other pressed flat against the window, like he’s trying to touch the sea. I watch his steady breathing and find myself matching his rhythm. The air changes. We’re in the dark. In a hotel room. I’m wearing just a light robe and a nightgown. It’s not a very short nightgown, but it’s sheer and lightweight. Every time it brushes against my smooth thighs I feel sexy. Sensual.

I look at Ryan’s back.

And now I’m throbbing.

What is he thinking about?

Slipping off my robe, I slide under the covers on the right side. “Big day tomorrow,” I offer. “It’s late. We should get some sleep. Thanks for doing this, Ryan. I know it’s not easy pretending. Thank you for everything.” I turn off the nightstand light. I stare at the ceiling, willing my throbbing blood to stop crashing against the tidal wall of my body.

He’s magnetic. How else can I be so drawn to him? It’s Ryan. Good old Ryan. This is idiotic. I just need an orgasm or nineteen and I’ll be fine.

With Ryan, a voice inside me whispers.

I roll on my side and punch my pillow. Impulse and need flood my skin and my heartbeat migrates south, between my legs. Suddenly, the sheets feel too well starched, brushing against my nipples through the nightgown, making me squirm. And when I change position, my calf brushes against my other calf just so, until I swallow hard, curling my hands into fists, grabbing the bedsheets.

So I don’t stand up and walk over to Ryan.

So I don’t offer myself to him and make a fool of myself.

He’s being nice. We’re friends. I can’t ruin that just because I misread a few signals from him. I mean, how embarrassing would that be?

“Sure.” He’s still at the window, staring out. “No problem, C-Shel.”

RYAN

I can’t turn around or she’ll see the tent.

You know the tent. Every guy gets the tent. Sometimes the tent is a Boy Scout pup tent. Sometimes it’s circus-tent size.

And then once in awhile, you get full-blown state university graduation tent size.

Yep. If I lean an inch forward I’ll poke my own eye out.

I can see her in the glass’s reflection, her face turned just enough toward me to watch as she stares, wide-eyed, at the window. Watching her like this — when she doesn’t know I’m doing it — is a guilty pleasure. The moon seems to treasure her as much as I do, stroking a line like an artist, the glow of the moon’s edge marking a trail along her profile.

If I close my eyes, I can feel her behind me. I’m fifteen feet away, but damned if she isn’t in the air we’re both exchanging right now. Damned if her breath isn’t touching the back of my hands like a soft caress from a lover’s soothing palm.