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Three: he has a box in his bedside drawer that I had absolutely no business opening, and it contains a selection of very high-quality silicone products that are new additions to the collection I’m already acquainted with.

By seven p.m., I’ve cooked dinner, I’ve eaten most of his snacks, and I’ve read the back cover of all the romance novels on the top shelf. I am bored, mildly horny, and I have a phone.

I pull up my messages.

Fox:

You know what I’ve learned about you today, Griffin Hall?

I wait. Nothing. He’s probably ordering his first beer, catching up with Taylen and being a good best friend. I’ll give him a minute.

Fox:

I’ve learned you have very specific taste in paperback fiction.

A. Lawton. Griffin Prescott (bold choice, buying a book by an author with your own name). Andrew Cinder, and a truly alarming amount from Ben.

Should I be jealous of Ben?

The three dots appear.

Finn:

I’m with Taylen.

Fox:

Say hi from me.

Finn:

Absolutely not.

I settle deeper into his couch with the phone balanced on my chest. His apartment is quiet. Not quite silent because there’s the low hum of the radiators clicking, someone’s TV blaring from the floor below, and the occasional car revving outside.

I pick up the nearest paperback and flip to a page I marked earlier because Finn bracketed a passage in pencil.

I take a photo of that page and send it.

Fox:

You marked this one, Griffin. And I would like to point out that in this scene a very tall man puts his very talented mouth on…

Finn:

STOP. I’m in a public establishment.

Fox:

“He dropped to his knees, and the first slow drag of his tongue…”

Finn:

I am going to murder you.

Fox:

A. Lawton has quite a way with words. No wonder you’ve read this book a hundred times.