BEST FRIENDS DON'T LOOK AT YOU LIKE THAT

The world, for the last hour, had shrunk to the size of the paperback in my hands and the heated words printed on its pages. I was lost, blissfully so, tucked into the cocoon of my blankets, the afternoon sun a muted stripe across my bedroom floor. My cheeks were flushed, my heart a frantic drum against my ribs as I read the line for the third time: He plunged into her core, a cataclysm of heat and need.

A sigh escaped my lips, a sound of pure, unadulterated yearning. My own private world, where I could be someone else, somewhere else, feeling things I only ever dreamed of. It was my secret, this little stack of steamy novels hidden under a loose floorboard, my one escape from a life that felt relentlessly ordinary.

The silence was shattered as my bedroom door flew open, banging against the wall with a force that made me jolt, the book tumbling from my hands.

"Chloe, you will not believe what just happened at—"

Noah’s booming voice died in his throat. He stood frozen in the doorway, his usual vibrant energy stalled. Beside him, leaning against the frame with an infuriatingly lazy grace, was Liam.

Panic, cold and sharp, seized me. I scrambled to grab the book, my fingers fumbling as I shoved it beneath my duvet, my face burning with a heat that had nothing to do with fictional passion.

"What's up, C?" Noah finally managed, a slow, mischievous grin spreading across his face as he took in my disheveled state and crimson cheeks. He bounced into the room, followed by Liam, whose gaze was far too perceptive. Liam’s eyes, a startling shade of stormy gray, missed nothing. They swept from my face to the lump under my covers.

"What are you hiding?" Liam asked, his voice a low, amused drawl. He took a step closer.

"Nothing," I squeaked, my voice an octave too high. I tried to smooth my hair, to look casual, but my body was rigid with mortification.

Liam didn't buy it. In one swift, fluid motion, he lunged, his hand darting under the duvet. I gasped and tried to hold it down, but he was too fast, too strong. He straightened up, the offending book held aloft in his hand, its cover—depicting a shirtless, chiseled man holding a swooning woman in a torn dress—on full display for the world to see.

"Let's see what has our little Chloe so flustered," he purred, his lips curling into a wicked smile.

I was shorter than him, a fact he loved to exploit. I jumped, trying to snatch it back, but he just lifted it higher, his laughter rumbling in his chest. Noah was howling with glee, collapsing onto my desk chair.

"Give it back, Liam!" I cried, my voice tight with a mixture of shame and fury.

His eyes met mine, and for a second, the teasing light in them flickered and changed, darkening into something deeper, more intense. He opened the book to the page my finger had been marking. And then, in a clear, deliberate voice that filled the small room, he read the line aloud.

"'He plunged into her core, a cataclysm of heat and need.'"

The air crackled. My breath hitched. Noah’s laughter choked off into a stunned silence. Liam wasn't looking at the book anymore. His gaze was locked on me, his eyes hooded, his smile gone, replaced by an expression I couldn't decipher.

"A little racy for you, don't you think, Chloe?" he murmured, a taunt laced with something else, something that made my stomach clench. "I thought you were too pure for this stuff."

Humiliation warred with a sudden, traitorous flutter in my chest. With a surge of adrenaline, I launched myself at him again, finally managing to grab the book and wrestle it from his grasp. I didn't hesitate. I spun around and tucked it securely into the waistband of my jeans at the small of my back, the cover cool against my heated skin.

Liam's eyes followed the movement, and a slow, lewd grin returned to his face. "Keeping Cade close to your heart, are we? Or somewhere… lower?"

My face was on fire. Cade was the name of the book’s hero. "You're a pig," I snapped.

He just chuckled, turning to Noah. "Andiamo, amico. Dobbiamo portarla fuori prima che si surriscaldi e prenda fuoco." (Let's go, my friend. We have to get her out of here before she overheats and catches fire.)

They slipped into Italian, their shared language a secret club I wasn't invited to. It was a familiar tactic, one they used to shut me out, to remind me I was just Chloe, their tagalong, not one of them. The brief, intense connection in Liam's gaze vanished, leaving me feeling small and foolish.

"We're here to take you out," Noah finally said, translating the one piece of information I was allowed to have. "Get dressed."

I glared at them, my arms crossed over my chest, the book a secret pressure against my spine. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Oh, you are," Liam said, his gaze once again holding that unnerving intensity. He stepped toward me as I backed away toward the bathroom. He stopped just before the door, leaning in close, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that was for my ears alone.

"Besides," he breathed, his warm breath ghosting over my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. "I need to know more about these fantasies of yours. For future reference."

And with a final, devastating wink, he turned and left me standing there, my heart hammering against my ribs for a reason that had nothing to do with embarrassment and everything to do with him.