The Good Girls

It was a bad idea from the beginning. He was my brother's best friend and the definition of unavailable. But I didn't care. I had loved him for as long as I could remember. He was worth the risk. He was worth everything. But then he broke my heart as easily as I fell for him. He watched me fall, spiraling out of control, and as I reached for him, he wasn't there to catch me. So I ran. Four years later, I never expected to see him again. He was still my brother's best friend, and he was more unavailable than ever.

I only had a few rules, and I always stuck with them. He was a playboy who ran by the same set of rules. What we had together was fun, it was hot, and it was temporary. Until he screwed everything up. We were never meant to be each other's happily ever after, but the harder I tried to push him away, the further I fell.

I ate leftover cupcakes and cracked macarons for breakfast. I was 90 percent sure he simply ate up girls like me. I was covered in paint splatters, cake batter, and sweat the first time I met him. He was covered in badass tattoos and a smile that seemed to hold a secret I would never figure out. Rule number one was never, under any circumstances, fall for the man to whom I wrote my lease check. So I tucked him away in the “Fantasize Only” compartment of my brain and called it a day. But he didn’t make it easy.