She said I deserved more.

More than her.

It was maddening—how she said it with such softness, such kindness. As if I’d ever want anyone else. As if anyone else could occupy even a fraction of the space she’s carved out inside of me.

“I have you,” I told her, resting my forehead against hers, shutting my eyes. I didn’t need anything more. Couldn’t even imagine it.

But she wouldn’t have it. She wanted more for me—family, friends, people.

I shook my head, brushing my nose against hers. “No.”

“Yes,” she argued, insistent, so earnest it made my chest ache.

And then she threw it back at me—What about you? And your parents?

Her voice got quieter, eyes a little sadder when she answered her own question. No. They were never parents to me.

I hated that for her. I hated them for her. But I loved that she said, I have my friends. And me.

I wanted to hear it again, needed to hear it. “And me.”

She smiled. “You are my friend.”

The word stung in ways it shouldn’t have.

“But not your best friend,” I muttered, barely hiding the jealousy I felt burning up my throat. “Kenji is your best friend.”

She tried to hide her laughter, but I heard it—the little hiccup of sound that betrayed her.

“Yes,” she said, “but you’re my favourite friend.”

I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face, couldn’t resist leaning in and bypassing her mouth entirely, pressing a kiss to her neck.

“Good,” I murmured, lips brushing her skin. I didn’t even think before I said it: “Now flip over. On your stomach.”

She blinked at me. “What?”

“Please,” I said with a smile. I meant it.

And god—when she did it, slow and cautious, the sight of her giving in sent a sharp pull low in my stomach.

“What are you doing?” she whispered, glancing back at me.

I eased her gently back down, palm running along the curve of her spine. “I want you to know,” I said, voice low, fingers catching the zipper at the back of her suit, “how much I value your friendship.”

I pulled the zipper down slowly, watching the fabric part to reveal her skin, smooth and warm. She shivered when the air hit her back. I stopped the zipper just above the small of her spine, my mouth already following the path of exposed skin, pressing a soft kiss between her shoulder blades, then her neck.

I pushed the sleeves off her shoulders, baring more of her, my lips never leaving her skin.

“But,” I whispered, mouth grazing her, “I’d like you to reconsider my title.”

Another kiss, another soft drag of my mouth against the delicate ridge of her shoulder.

“Because my friendship,” I said, pausing, letting my hands smooth over her sides, “comes with so many more benefits than Kenji could ever offer.”

I felt her tense, breath catching. I smiled against her skin.

“Don’t you think?”