Stuck with the Enemy|18+

21|Five More Minutes

WAKING UP WRAPPED with Everett felt like the world was playing a cruel trick on me.

The living room was coated in rainbow shadows from my newly purchased vase, and it was all too much from the mixtures of oranges casting down upon his face from the sun rising to the aura of color floating around us...

This isn't real. It can't be real. At first, I thought we could keep this casual and have this strictly be just benefits between us, but my heart laughs as I scan the parting of Everett's lips while he sleeps. I'm so cozy and warm, and not an ounce of me wants to get up, but we both have class this morning, so one of us needs to make breakfast.

Peeling myself off his large frame, careful not to wake him, I pad into the kitchen barefoot, realizing that at some point in the night, I stripped myself of my work polo and wound up wearing Everett's sweatshirt instead. He must have given it to me, but I don't even remember waking up. I certainly wouldn't have asked for it merely because none of Liam's things ever fit me. The clothing was always too snug, too form-fitting for my body, but Everett's sweatshirt fits just right. It's long on me since he's so tall, grazing just above my knees, and I'm warm and coated in nothing but his smell.

The smile growing on my face at that realization terrifies me.

What are we even doing? We slept together last night by choice, and becoming more serious with each other isn't an option. I can't do this to Liam. Not after he was so good to me for eight years and continues to look out for me. Hell, I've already fucked Everett, and that's crossing a boundary in itself. I've stabbed him in the back, and he doesn't even know it yet.

With a frustrated sigh, I grab a pan from below the stove and melt some butter. My fingers are clutching the counters with white knuckles, my head hanging between my shoulders from the guilt tearing its way up my throat and into my eyes. Tears threaten to spill, but I quickly blink them away and crack some eggs into the pan.

None of this is fair. How could I be falling for my ex's best friend? Everett Holden, of all people? He's the world's most miserable man, or at least I thought he was until we started whatever this is between us. Now he's sweet and considerate and nothing like I originally assumed. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. The thought of ending things when I'm so happy is eating me alive, but I have to, right?

I jump when a pair of hands snake around my waist from behind. Everett's. He splays them across my belly, across that spot I'm always so worried about, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Cooking breakfast in just my sweatshirt is dangerous, Em. Do you have any idea how good you look in my clothes?"

The lump in my throat grows, and while the eggs cook, I spin around to face him. He's boxing me in with his hands on either side of the counter, and as soon as he reads the expression on my face, that cocky grin falls off his face. "What's wrong?"

I shoot him a pointed glare. "Everett, we slept together last night."

"Yes..." He's looking at me as if I've completely lost it, and I hate that he's shirtless right now. His abs are on full display to me, his briefs barely clinging onto his hips, and his brown curls are a big, sexy mess on top of his head. He's going to be the death of me.

"Don't give me that look, Ev. You know it's a problem. We agreed this would be casual, but lately, it's been feeling..."

He arches a brow, waiting for me to finish.

"Like this is escalating into something more, and we both know it can't. We agreed that it wouldn't."

"Because of Liam," he adds, stepping away from me. With a scrape of his hand across his jaw, he diverts his eyes away from me and stares at the floor.