You laid in bed on your side, playing with his hair. Staring at him. Hendrix was looking at the ceiling. Your thoughts raced about Hendrix, but you had to obey by his rules. No feelings. No strings attached. Just fuck and be the best of friends.

He had been looking at you differently and you could tell. He was more possessive, became rougher, hints of jealousy. But the rule forever stood. You knew you would never get an emotion out.

Hendrix looked over, “Hm. What’s wrong?”