Okay, shut up, Skye!

I seal my lips, forcing them closed before I begin to move the conversation into topics better left unsaid. Ollie remains silent and I step onto the elevator next to him, crossing my arms.

But I can't help it, my blood is boiling and my throat burns to say more. Not about the thing, I don't want to talk about the thing—you know, that thing that happened four years ago that I don’t want to ever think about again. So instead, I lean over and tersely whisper, "And there aren't so many guys. There were two guys, Glenn and Patrick, and that's it. So I don't need any attitude from you, okay?"

But at that exact moment, a hand stops the elevator from closing and I just know before I even look up who it's going to be. And I'm right. It’s Neal—the spinach guy. Oh, for the love of god! I hit on a guy one time and it's like the world won't stop punishing me for it. Seriously! I can't escape him.

"Hey, Skye," Neal says kindly, completely unaware of what he just walked into.

I wince, holding back a massive sigh, and mumble, "Hey."

And then I wait for the inevitable.

And wait.

Ollie takes in a deep, sharp breath.

I sigh. Here we go.

"Oh," Ollie says in mock surprise, voice so smug I want to punch him. His eyes are two lasers pointed at my skull, painful. "Do you two know each other?"

"He lives in the building," I say. "Neal, Ollie. Ollie, Neal."

"Dude." Neal shrugs and holds out his hand. They shake.

"So, how'd you meet?" Ollie asks, tone far too light and far too leading.

I'm about to reply, but Neal, smelling like booze, jumps in first. I cringe. "On the elevator," he says. I breathe a sigh of relief. That wasn't so bad. But then he adds, "Her teeth were green. I thought she had a medical condition."

Oh god. I want to disappear. Immediately.

Ollie snickers. "What condition?"

"I had spinach in my teeth," I snap.

Finally, the door opens to Neal's floor, and it takes all of my self-control not to shove him forcibly off the elevator. When the doors close, I stare straight ahead, not daring to meet the challenge in Ollie's gaze.

"So, should we add Neal to the growing list of your admirers?" Ollie asks.

I remain utterly silent.

"Anyone else I should know about?" he continues.

Do not give in. Do not give him the satisfaction of a response. I just have to keep my cool.

"No? I just want to be aware if any lovesick guys are going to come knocking on our door at five in the morning, demanding to see you? I mean, if they do, I need to know how to handle the situation. Who to turn away…who to punch in the face."

I keep ignoring him until we reach our floor.

But as I begin to put the key in the lock, I stop, squeezing my eyes tight. Ollie is right behind me. Like always, I'm totally aware of his body and how close it is to mine, totally aware of the way I yearn for his touch even when I'm furious with him.

"What—"

"Ollie!" I interrupt, turning to face him. "If you have something you want to say to me, just say it. Because as soon as I go inside, I'm going to my room and going to bed, and you'll lose your chance."

His turquoise eyes brighten to clear crystal and he seals his lips, holding back whatever teasing remark he was just about to say. Our faces are only inches apart. I ball my fists at my side, holding them steady, keeping them perfectly still as a current tightens the air between us.

"I missed you," he finally says.

I suck in a breath. My chest burns. So do the corners of my eyes.

"You didn’t talk to me for four years and I missed you."

I missed you too.

The words sit ready, waiting at the back of my throat, urging to be spoken. But I can't. Because I wasn't supposed to miss him. I was supposed to forget him. I want to forget him. And tonight, for a few hours, I did.

Instead, all I do is say, "Okay."

Ollie closes his eyes for a moment, holds them there, and then nods. But I can't help but wonder what is left unsaid, what words burn the back of his throat. I don't press though. Because honestly, I don't think I'm ready to hear them.

For now, this is enough.

So I turn, ready for the solitude of my bedroom and for sleep. But as I twist the key and push the door open, a surprised scream travels up my throat, popping out before I can stop it.

A bare butt.

My eyes zero in on the target and I can't look away. I mean, I want to. But I'm bizarrely mesmerized in some out-of-body experience—like, is this really happening? There is a naked boy walking across my living room.

And then it clicks.

Bridget's date. Bridget's naked date.

Oh god.

I slam the door shut, stumbling backward into Ollie, almost knocking both of us over. He catches me before I fall, wrapping his solid arms around my waist, holding me up. I turn in his arms, eyes wide.

"Skye? What?"

My head shakes. He didn't see. Thank god he didn’t see. But then Ollie reaches into his back pocket, going for his keys.

"No!" I jump, regaining my balance and firmly holding his hand. There is no way I'm letting Ollie inside. No way.

He shakes my hold easily.

Time for a new approach.

I stand in the doorway, arms crossed. "Want to go find some pizza?"

"Pizza?" he asks, stretching his keys forward to open the door. "It's three in the morning."

"So? I'm hungry," I grumble, casually extending my arms and bracing them across the doorway, trying to create a human barrier. My stomach growls, nicely completing the act. Which isn’t really an act—after seven puny fish courses, I could use a little pizza.

"Well, I just spent about fourteen hours in a kitchen, so I'm not." And he narrows his eyes, peering at the door, clearly on to me.

"You're not going to make me hunt for pizza at three a.m. on my own, are you?" I look up, batting my eyelashes, using all the feminine powers of persuasion I possess. He softens, body wilting just a fraction, and for a moment I think I've won. I let down my guard, releasing my hold on the door.

Ollie acts.

In one move, he grabs me around the waist and lifts me over his shoulder. Damn, he's still just a strong as I remember. My hands land on his back, clutching for something steady to hold on to now that the floor looks precariously far away. But my fingers gain a mind of their own, traveling down his shirt, running over the contours of his muscles, farther down to the curve of his lower back.

Whoa, girl!

I gulp, shaking my head.

Freaking wayward hands! I curl my fingers in, realizing that the sound of jingling keys has filled the hallway.

"Ollie!" I kick out.

He just hugs my thighs tighter, holding them in place. I pound my fists on his back instead.

"Ollie, put me down."

"Not…" He grunts. "Until…" The shoulder below my abs dips for a second. "I open…" A resounding click makes its way to my ear. "The door!" There's no missing the triumph in his voice.

I wince. Waiting.

Ollie steps forward, still not letting me go, and hauls us both into the apartment. I peer around. Nothing in the kitchen. Nothing in the living room.

"Will you put me down now?" I ask, trying to maintain a little dignity. Which, you know, is really hard to do when you're upside down. And in a dress. And probably mooning the entire world…

"Okay." He shrugs beneath me. I wait for a second, expecting him to bend down and place my feet gently onto the floor. He dips. But a second later, his whole body shoots up and I know exactly what he's doing.