Is this some kind of joke?

The door clicked shut softly behind Layla as she left the room. I stayed seated on the edge of the bed, staring at the spot where she had just stood, the words she'd said playing on a loop in my mind.

Friends.

The word sounded absurd, even as I repeated it to myself. Friends don't kiss like we kissed. Friends don't press their bodies together in a way that still burned in the back of my mind. Friends don't… do what we did.

And, for fuck's sake, friends definitely don't wake up cuddling, hearts racing like they're about to combust.

I buried my face in my hands and groaned. "Is this some kind of joke?" I muttered to the empty room. "Friends." The word tasted bitter. How could I be friends with someone I wanted—needed—to kiss again? Someone who…

I shook my head sharply, cutting that thought off before it could spiral. This was ridiculous.