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two of us.”
    You point to me again and smile. “I’m going to love this relationship.” We sit staring at one another in silence. It creeps over us. It’s not nerves, but pure sexual tension. And then you clear your throat. “I have another rule.”
    “Okay,” I stammer.
    “I’m just not sure how you’re going to take it, Stella. I don’t want to hurt you.”
    “You can’t hurt me, Thomas.”
    “Oh?” Your voice is filled with surprise. “Why is that?”
    “I have to care about you in order to get hurt.”
    You nod and look away from me. “Fair enough.”
    “So what’s the rule?”
    Looking back to me, you stare for a few seconds. Probably contemplating if you should say it or not, but ultimately you do. “I want you to find another.”
    I’m shocked, astonished you would say that. “Excuse me?”
    Standing up from the chair, you walk over to me and lean against the desk, resting your hands on either side. “Is there a problem?”
    “Why?”
    “Simple. I don’t want you to get attached to me.”
    “Thomas,” I say snidely, “I think we established that in Rule One. No talking about the past, and no discussing a potential future.”
    You nod. “I understand, but I don’t want you to get attached to me.”
    “Trust me. I won’t.”
    “Ouch,” you joke, placing a hand to your chest. “I’m crushed. But seriously, Stella, I don’t want you to get attached. I don’t want you to fall in love with me and think of a future and a possibility of the two of us.”
    Standing up, facing you directly, I say, “And like I said, Thomas Braxton, I’m not going to fall in love with you.”
    You smile victoriously. “Then finding someone else to occupy your time when you aren’t with me shouldn’t be that difficult.”
    And it’s almost like the air shifts, changes, collides. The fact that you want me to find another changes my feelings toward you. I don’t love you. Not yet, anyway. It doesn’t happen till later. Much later. “I’m still not understanding.”
    “I just want to cover all my bases so you won’t fall in love.”
    I think it over for a few seconds and say, “Okay. You’ve got yourself a deal.” I extend a hand toward you, waiting for a handshake.
    You shake your head at my hand. “I think I have something a lot bigger you’d like to grab,” you say, unzipping your pants.
    “Oh, I think I do.”
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 8
     
     
    Stella & Alex
     
    I sit in the corner of the hole in the wall café. On the outside it looks like a piece of shit, but we were all taught to not judge a book by its cover. Kind of ironic when you think about it. The media, the magazines, they tell us what is beauty and what isn’t. I’ve walked past this bakery daily on my way to the gym, and then one day I decided to be a rebel. I decided to fuck my workout routine and walked in. It’s not much to look at. Just some comfy chairs and tables that don’t match. I guess they were going for a rustic look. Mason jars filled with wild flowers sit on every table, giving it a country feel. But the pastries, tea sandwiches, and drinks are what make people stay, besides the serenity you feel. For a brief moment in time people are able to escape from the jaywalking, taxi horns, and millions of hot dog stands New York City has to offer.
    Reading over the proposal Thomas had written up for a case, I notice the front door chime. I don’t look up, though. I don’t care enough to. It’s none of my business. Instead, my eyes stay glued to the words I have a difficult time understanding as my hand reaches over to grab my steaming Earl Grey tea.
    “Stella?” a familiar voice asks. The tea burns my lips, causing me to cough a few times. “Shit, I’m sorry,” you mumble.
    I fan a hand in front of my scalded mouth. “Don’t worry about it, Alex. How could you have known I was in the process of drinking really hot tea?” I say it with a bit of amusement and sarcasm, causing you to