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“You gonna wear something ridiculous?” he asks.

“Define ridiculous.”

“Feathers. Leather. Or those heels you wore in my office that made me question my sanity.”

I laugh, relief slicing through me. “Haven’t decided yet.”

“Text me options. I’ll pretend to be helpful. And by helpful, I mean assess which one’s easiest to get you out of.”

“Deal.”

“Now go enjoy your fifteen minutes.”

I smirk. “Pretty sure I’ve got at least twenty.”

We hang up, but I don’t move right away. Just stand in the kitchen, phone still in my hand, cheeks hot and stupid.

The dishwasher beeps. A horn blares outside. Everything feels too normal for a day like this.

“You done blushing?” Riley calls out.

I walk back into the living room and toss my phone onto the couch, still warm from the notifications.

She doesn’t even look up, wrist deep in a bag of chips. “Broderick’s got itbadfor you.”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t.”

“He does,” she says through a crunch.

“It’s just sex,” I say, grabbing a bottle of water. “We’re two friends having fun. Like you said. A distraction from Alex.”

Riley raises a brow. “Uh-huh. So, the whole ‘worship at your feet’ thing was just friendly banter?”

I take a long sip. “He was joking.”

“Was he?”

I sink into the armchair. “You’re reading into it.”

“Am I? Because you were giggling in there like a teenager with a crush.”

“I was not.”

She gives me a look. I throw a pillow at her.

“It’s not that deep,” I say. “We’re not defining anything. He travels. I tour. We connect when we can. It works.”

“Right, no feelings at all. Just banter and orgasms.”

I try not to smile. I fail. “Exactly.”

She shakes her head. “You’re gonna break his heart.”

I shrug. “Or he’ll break mine. Either way, it’ll be great material for the next album.”

Riley pops another chip, crunch echoing in the quiet. “Cold.”

I open my mouth to fire back—but the buzzer cuts me off.