Only With You

By Monica Alexander

When she was sixteen, Sydney Chase gave up a normal life to move to L.A. to pursue a career in music. Now as a multi-platinum, Grammy winning, recording artist, she really couldn’t want anything more out of life. Well, except for her best friend, Ryder Thompson. They’ve been friends since they were kids, and Ryder has always been the constant in Syd’s life – at least until the night she thought they might be turning into more than friends . . . or maybe not. And now they aren’t even speaking. Sydney would give anything just to have her friend back, even if all they’ll ever be is friends.

Ryder Thompson has been in love with Sydney Chase since he was thirteen, but she never saw him as more than a friend. Then one night, he took a chance and kissed her. Talk about an epic fail. But even though he tries to stay away, he knows deep down that even if she never loves him like he wishes she would, he needs Sydney in his life.

Neither wants to admit how they feel, since rejection is never fun, but if they just tell each other the truth, they might get everything they’ve always wanted.

Only With You is a novel about friendship, love and the mistakes we make to ultimately be with the one we love.

*Only for mature audiences due to adult language, themes and scenes

• Language: English
• Publisher: Monica Alexander
• Release date: Sep 16, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301068050

Monica Alexander

Monica Alexander is a writer of contemporary, new adult, and young adult fiction. In 2011, she turned her lifelong love of reading and books into a career when she published her first novel, "Just Watch the Fireworks". When she's not reading and writing, you can find her at the beach, in the mountains, or hiking through a city, soaking all the beauty of the world around her and turning her experiences into inspiration for her next book.

Book preview

Sydney

Lying on the floor in Ryder Thompson’s bedroom should have felt completely normal. I’d done it approximately nine hundred times in the past twelve years that he’d been my best friend. But for some reason, everything suddenly felt different, and I wasn’t sure when it had shifted.

Next to me Ryder giggled, and the backs of our hands brushed together sending tingles shooting up my arm straight to my stomach, making it flutter nervously.

What was that?

Your hands are cold, he said, giggling again as the backs of his fingers flirted with mine.

Ryder was drunk. He only giggled when he was drunk, and I’d heard him do it a hundred times, but I suddenly found it to be the most adorable sound in the world. Not sure what to do with that sudden epiphany, I nervously laughed along with him. I’d never felt anything like what I was feeling in his presence before, and it caught me completely off-guard. Hearing me laugh, Ryder giggled harder and rolled toward me, his face tucked near my shoulder, the giggles consuming him.

My hands are always cold. You know that, I reminded him as his tickling breath bathed my neck in warmth.

I know, he said, his lips practically against my skin as he laced our fingers together. I’ll warm them up.

God, he was so cute. I forced myself to look away, as the contact he’d initiated sent my stomach into another tailspin. Ryder was a serious guy most of the time, but when he drank, he let loose, let his walls down, and it was so completely endearing to see it – especially now when he was making me feel all warm and gooey with that awesome laugh of his, his warm breath against my skin, my hand in his. All things that had never affected me before like they were now.

He finally pulled away from me, and I wasn’t sure how it made me feel as he relaxed with his cheek resting against the carpet, his eyes on me. I turned my head again to see his beautiful face, not able to look away. I wondered just when he’d gotten so hot. Skin that had been bronzed from a year and a half spent in college in Florida, dark brown hair, straight nose, dimples that popped whenever he smiled and piercing hazel eyes that were suddenly locked on mine. He’d stopped laughing, and as I watched him, his smile faded and he blinked a few times.

I think we should do another shot, he said suddenly, sitting up in a rush and breaking the spell that seemed to have fallen over us – or at least me since I knew there was no way Ryder would ever be interested in me. I was a girl.

He let my hand go, and I sat up next to him, my long brown hair that my management team wouldn’t let me cut falling over one shoulder. It was starting to annoy me with how thick it was, but it was one of the things I was known for, part of my image if you will, so I was stuck with it. I had moments where I wanted to pull an Emma Watson and chop it all off, but I knew there’d be hell to pay if I did that, and I’d probably be made to wear extensions during my upcoming tour, so it truthfully wasn’t worth it. I hated extensions more than I hated my heavy hair.

Ryder reached out and fingered my long strands, running them through his hand. He’d always loved to play with my hair. Back in high school, before things had gotten crazy and back when I’d actually gone to classes and had a normal life, we’d spent countless nights watching movies in his room. I’d have my head on his chest, and he’d play with my hair the whole time, usually putting me to sleep before the movie ended.

Now this seemingly familiar gesture seemed intimate, and I wasn’t sure why. I suddenly wanted his hand to move from my hair to cup my face before he brought his lips to mine and . . .

Wait. What?!

What the hell was that? I wanted Ryder to kiss me? For real?

Yeah, another shot, I said quickly.

My head was already swimming from the shots we’d done earlier, but my insane thoughts were threatening to sober me, and I didn’t like that feeling. It made me put my guard up, and I’d never had to do that with Ryder before. I enjoyed the ability to feel blissed out, carefree and totally comfortable with someone who didn’t have elevated expectations of me. Ryder was one of the people in my life I could fully trust, and after the personal shitstorm I’d been experiencing over the past few months, I needed him more than I wanted to admit.

But I didn’t think I needed him in that way. You know, the way where he suddenly pinned me beneath him and started devouring my mouth with his. I’d never wanted him that way before, but for some reason, it was now all I could think about.

When exactly had I developed feelings for my gay best friend? I guess it figured. I’d always had the worst luck with guys. I never seemed to pick the right ones, and lately the media had been having a field day with my romantic screw-ups. It was why I’d gone home to Washington in the first place. I hadn’t been back in almost four years, but I’d needed to get away, and I didn’t think there was a better place than the secluded town thirty minutes outside of Seattle where I’d grown up. But mostly I’d just needed to see Ryder, to be around someone who’d known me before I’d become famous and had started to question the genuineness of every relationship I had – platonic or otherwise.

I’d originally planned to spend the Christmas holidays in paradise with my boyfriend, Whit, but that was before he dumped me a week before we were supposed to leave for Hawaii. He’d ended up going on our vacation with the new super-model he was dating, and I had to suffer through seeing pictures online of them taking surfing lessons and frolicking in the ocean.

Bastard.

I should have known that dating someone almost ten years older than me was a bad idea, but he’d been so sweet, so romantic, and I’d fallen so hard for him. Too bad he hadn’t fallen right back. He was a movie star, established in Hollywood, but his career had been faltering after two not so great movies. In hindsight, I was pretty sure he’d decided to see if riding my coattails might work to his benefit, but I’d been blind to it when we’d met.

I’d just released my third album which had gone platinum fairly quickly, and he had a new movie coming out that he was nervous about. I found him charming, but now I knew it was all an act. I didn’t think it was a coincidence that he ended things with me a month after his movie premiered, and he’d gotten all the publicity he needed.

Asshole.

Of course the media had splashed our break-up all over the tabloids, and I was made into a laughing stock once again. I was sick of it, and I’d just needed to get away from it all. So I went home to a place I could no longer technically call home. We’d moved when I was sixteen, my parents uprooting their lives so I could make it as a pop star. We’d been in L.A. for four years, but whenever anyone asked me where home was, I always told them it was the town I’d grown up in, because to me it would always be home. I didn’t think L.A. would ever really feel like home to me. And truthfully, a big part of that was because Ryder didn’t live there.

Here, he said, handing me a shot of tequila, his dimples popping as he grinned.

He seemed so happy, loving college and the friends he’d made there. His sunshiny personality had been just what I’d needed with the dark clouds I’d felt looming over me as of late. I wished I could have been as happy as him and wondered why I wasn’t. My career was on fire, but I knew it was the personal stuff that was starting to suffocate me.

I suddenly wondered how different my life would have been had I not pursued my dreams. Would I have stayed in Seattle and gone to the University of Washington, lived in a dorm and made new friends?

Or maybe I would have followed Ryder to the University of Florida where we would have gotten an apartment together and laid out at the pool in between classes. Would it have made me happier to have a normal life where everyone under the sun didn’t know me or think they knew me? Would I have been satisfied going to classes and parties and football games and majoring in something like communications?

No, I knew the answer to that question. I wouldn’t be happy doing anything else but what I was doing. I’d been writing songs practically my whole life, and from the first time I’d picked up a guitar at age eight, I knew exactly what I wanted to be. I wanted to sing and to play my songs for sold out crowds across the country. I wanted them to hear my voice and my lyrics that were completely from the heart, because song writing had been the only way I’d ever really known how to process my emotions.

I poured every part of me into my lyrics, creating a catharsis of some sort that helped me deal with the bad stuff in life – like asshole ex-boyfriends who used me for their own devices and left me feeling like crap for even caring. I knew I’d end up writing a song – or five – about Whit, because it was what I did. Of course no one would know the songs were about him. They’d speculate and throw their guesses into the ring, but I’d never reveal who any of my songs were truly about.

Fortunately, it would be a while before any of the songs I wrote about him hit the airwaves. I’d just put out an album in September called Bulletproof, and I was going on tour to promote it in April. My next album wasn’t planned to come out for another year and a half. I could only imagine how many more craptastic relationships I’d be able to turn into songs by then.

Maybe I’d even write about the inappropriate feelings I suddenly had toward my best friend who was sitting across from me, shot glass poised to clink against mine, looking so delectable that I wanted to shove him back against his bed and kiss him until he couldn’t breathe.

But since I couldn’t do that, I smiled instead and touched my glass to his before slamming the shot back.

Ugh, I said, as the tequila burned my throat.

I wasn’t usually a big drinker, but I’d sure been doing it a lot over the past few days. When I’d called Ryder the week before, asking if I could come visit, it was because I’d needed a timeout. My publicist, Laurie, had called to let me know that Whit had been subtly badmouthing me on TMZ the night before, and the tabloids were enjoying the heck out of what he’d shared. From what I could tell, he was just intensifying the rumors that I was unstable, lovesick and immature.

Those had been the general themes of the negative commentary the press and haters on social media sites had been saying about me for a while. I usually tried to let it roll off my back, but it was hard. I hated when people who didn’t know me acted like they had the inside scoop on my life, but I also knew it came with the territory, and sometimes I just had to have a thicker skin. But the shit with Whit had pushed me over the edge, and I’d called Ryder practically in tears. He didn’t even hesitate in telling me to get on a plane.

I’d been in town for a week, and we’d hung out every day just doing the low key stuff that I missed doing – like watching cheesy movies with my best friend and eating junk food that we’d bought at the grocery store. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d gone grocery shopping. But because I hadn’t wanted to be a recluse, I’d put on a hat and a hoodie, and we’d gone out incognito. It wasn’t like the paparazzi had followed me to Washington, but I knew fans would recognize me, and I didn’t think my disposition was bright enough to interact with anyone. And truthfully, I think I just needed to not feel like a pop star for a while.

That was also why we were drinking in Ryder’s childhood bedroom on New Year’s Eve instead of at some fabulous hot spot. Ryder knew I wanted to stay in, so he’d invited me over to his parents’ house. They were in Seattle for the night, which was great, because as much as I loved his parents, I just wanted to let loose with my best friend.

After making me dinner while I’d sipped wine to numb the dull pain I couldn’t seem to shake, Ryder had suggested tequila shots. Apparently I’d sufficiently bummed him out with my nonstop yammering about what a jerk Whit Halston was, and I think he just wanted me to stop talking about him. I took the hint and started throwing back tequila which served two purposes, I suppose.

Such a lightweight, he commented, shaking his head. I didn’t think two glasses of wine and four tequila shots were supposed to put a rock star on her ass. You’re embarrassing your people.

I reached out and shoved him in the shoulder, making him laugh. You forget that I’m a pop star with a semi-squeaky clean image, I said sarcastically, echoing what the media had dubbed me as when I’d first started in the business.

I’d been just seventeen when my first single was released, and I was from a small town. I was somewhat squeaky clean and naïve, but then I’d grown up.

Ryder snorted again, so I shoved him once more.

Yeah, I’m all too familiar with your ‘squeaky clean image’, he said sarcastically, throwing up air quotes.

Hey! I’m not a bad girl, I defended.

I wasn’t completely good either, nor did I pretend to be. I was true to myself. I never made promises that I’d abstain from sex before marriage or only date good guys. I had a few tattoos, I dressed edgy, and my songs weren’t as sweet as those of some of my counterparts. I liked to think of myself as a nice hybrid between Taylor Swift and Avril Lavigne. I had tween fans, but as I’d gotten older I’d started to pull in older audiences, which was good since staying power was important in the music business. It was all about evolution and growth, and I’d successfully done both of those things with my third album.

You lost your virginity to one of the most notorious womanizers in the music business, Syd. That probably wasn’t the best way to maintain that image of yours.

I held up a finger to make a point. I wasn’t trying to maintain any image. The media assumed I was a certain way, but I never said I was virginal. I’m not Jessica Simpson. And how do you even know who I lost my virginity to, huh?

That probably should have been the first thing I said, but instead by not squashing what he’d accused me of, I just gave away something that no one else knew.

Ryder laughed. I didn’t. You just confirmed my suspicions though, thank you very much.

Ugh, I said, rolling my eyes at him as he continued to laugh. You are such a jerk.

He continued to laugh. Dude, I can’t believe you actually slept with Sam Douglas! He’s such a dirtbag. It was bad enough to see you in pictures with him, but you actually had sex with the guy! I hope you got tested.

Ryder! I exclaimed, appalled that he would say that.

He shrugged and grinned. I’m just saying. He’s been around.

Yeah, Sam Douglas had been around. I’d known that, but I hadn’t cared. When the lead singer of the rock band Shadowcast had approached me at an awards show a few months after I’d put out my first album, I’d been completely taken with him. I’d also been dumb enough to go back to his hotel room with him that night. He broke things off with me after a few weeks, which I should have seen coming, and I had gotten tested twice in the next few months just to be sure he hadn’t left me with any other parting gifts outside of a broken heart and a scarred ego. Thankfully he hadn’t.

I’ll have you know we used protection all the times we slept together, thank you very much.

And thanks for that visual, Ryder said, shaking his head. What did you see in him anyway?

He sucked me in with those lips and that hair and his voice, I grumbled. Ugh. I kind of hated myself after that. I really appreciate you bringing up such a shining moment in my personal history.

That’s what all the girls say about him, he said, shaking his head. You really do have the worst taste in men, Syd.

I pouted involuntarily as my eyes started to fill with tears. I couldn’t help it. I was drunk, and I knew I sucked at picking out men. It depressed me to think about it, but I always fell for the bad boys, the exciting ones who I knew would break my heart. I couldn’t even control it.

Aww, no. Don’t cry, Ryder said when he saw me starting to lose it. He wrapped his arms around me in a squeezing hug.

Then suddenly everything felt a million times better. I tried to ignore how freaking phenomenal his arms felt and how amazing he smelled – all woodsy and masculine and so familiar it made me want to let the tears spill over for a completely different reason. But it was seriously freaking me out at the same time. When had I started noticing how Ryder smelled? I’d just seen him in August, and I hadn’t once had any urges to grab his face and kiss him like I was now.

I laid my head on his shoulder as he held me, simply basking in the way it felt to be wrapped up in him.

I’m sorry, Syd. I didn’t mean to make fun of you. You’re not going to go all diva on me, are you?

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. He always knew how to make me laugh when I was feeling like shit, and calling me a diva was a surefire way to do it.

I pulled away from him and shoved against his chest. I hate you, I grumbled, but I couldn’t help smiling as I said it.

He grabbed me again, pulled me against his chest and lowered his head so his lips were right by my ear. You love me, he said, his breath warm and inviting as it grazed my skin.

I only needed to turn my head and our lips would be inches apart. Damn, but I couldn’t do that. I might have been freaked out, but it would freak Ryder out even more if I were to try and kiss him.

You love me, he repeated. "It’s why you came here instead of going somewhere fabulous for the holidays. What will Celebrity Weekly say when they hear you had macaroni and cheese and boxed wine tonight instead of ringing in the New Year at some fabulous celebrity filled club?"

I shrugged. If you don’t tell them, they’ll never know. Besides, I don’t care. I’m sick of everyone caring so much about what I do, who I date, where I go. I need a break from all that.

I lied back down on the floor again which prompted Ryder to lie next to me.

Well you got one. When do you have to go back?

Not until the sixth. And I’m going to lay low until then. I figure I’ll stay in, order room service, do a little writing. Just hide for a while, you know?

I wish I could stay, he said, looking wistful all of a sudden. I miss you. We never get to see each other anymore.

I know! I miss you so much. I haven’t met anyone in L.A. who could replace you.

Damn, now he had me feeling bad again. We used to be inseparable, but ever since I’d moved to L.A., and now with him living in Florida, our relationship had been pretty much relegated to the phone. We saw each other twice a year or so when he’d come visit me for a long weekend or join me on tour for a few days, but that was it. And being here with him now made me realize how much better life was with him around.

I hated that he’d decided to go to college on the East Coast. He’d gotten in to UCLA, Oregon and Washington, but in the end, he’d picked the University of Florida. I’d been voting for UCLA for obvious reasons, but my vote hadn’t carried enough weight, I suppose.

His jaw dropped in offense. You’d better not replace me.

No way, I said sincerely. You’re right, I love you too much.

He beamed at me, and his stupid, sexy dimples popped out once again.

You’re sure you have to leave tomorrow? You can’t stay one more day? I pleaded, suddenly wanting to grab onto his shirt and never let him go. He couldn’t go back to Florida if I was holding onto him.

He nodded. Yeah, I have to get back. You know, buy my books, figure out where my classes are, and we’ve got Spring Rush coming up.

I can’t believe you joined a frat. It just doesn’t seem like you.

He shrugged. Nah, the guys are cool. Frats are big in the south, and they’re not what you’d expect. It’s just guys hanging out, drinking beer and playing video games most of the time. And we have parties a lot. It’s cool. You should come visit and see for yourself.

I laughed. Yeah, right. I’m not sure that’s the best idea.

I could just imagine what would happen if I set foot on a college campus, let alone at a frat house. It would be mayhem. I got recognized everywhere I went. The paparazzi trailed me constantly, and my fans, who were incredible in their own way and probably just wanted to meet me, could be a little intense. I rarely went anywhere without security anymore. I wouldn’t subject Ryder or his friends to that kind of craziness.

Ryder rolled over and propped his head up on his elbow. Why not? No one believes me when I tell them that Sydney Chase is my best friend, even though I have the pictures to prove it. They think I just have some weird obsession with you.

You do, I teased, poking him in the stomach.

Of course my finger was met with taught muscles. Fantastic. Ryder had a six-pack now. Great.

Whatever, he said, grabbing my finger and squeezing it for a few seconds before he released it.

It’s fine. I get it, I said, continuing to tease him. I know you’ve been in love with me for years, biding your time, just waiting for me to tell you I feel the same way. Don’t try to hide it.

I giggled, that last tequila shot having gone to my head rather quickly. Had I been more coherent, I might have noticed the dark cloud that passed over Ryder’s face as soon as the words were out of my mouth, but I didn’t see it. I wasn’t looking for it at all.

Yeah, right, he joked. That’s exactly how I feel.

He rolled over onto his back then, and I followed suit, looking up at the ceiling. I’d seen that ceiling so many times as a kid, and I’d actually missed it. It was weird to miss something like a ceiling, but Ryder had long ago put up those glow-in-the-dark stars that spelled out Ryder + Sydney, and just seeing the words made me feel at home. I noticed he’d also added a poster of me over his bed.

It’s why you have that creepy poster on your ceiling, I teased.

Creepy, nothing. That’s my best friend you’re talking about. Be nice.

Okay, so that was kind of sweet. If he’d have been straight, I might have wondered if he stared up at me while he jerked off, which was an image I didn’t want in my head – or maybe I did, since now that I thought about it, it sounded kind of hot. Not that it mattered, though, because there was no way I was the image in Ryder’s head when he got off. I didn’t have a penis.

I turned my head to look at him. I knew I should just say what was underlying in my twisted mind without giving away how much I suddenly wanted to rip his clothes off so I could see the amazing body I just knew was hiding under there.

I’ve really missed you, babe, I told him honestly, banishing the thoughts of what it would feel like to run my hands up his bare chest. Ryder had always had a slight build, but somewhere between starting college and now, he’d filled out, and the way his green t-shirt stretched over his chest and hugged his arms let me know how fantastic he probably looked when he was shirtless.

He took my hand in his then, eliciting those tingly feelings once again, but I pushed them away. I couldn’t get wrapped up in them. I’d never be able to have him like that, but it was okay. Aside from how hot I suddenly thought he was, what I liked more was the comfort that came from being with someone familiar who I knew loved me unconditionally – the real me, not the me who was portrayed for the world to see. Ryder knew all of my faults, my fears, and the secret parts of me that I’d never let anyone else see.

He looked over and met my gaze then. I’ve missed you too. We should make time to see each other more often. I don’t like going for months at a time only talking on the phone.

I know, I sighed. "My life is just crazy. You know that. If I’m not recording, I’m rehearsing or writing music or doing a photo shoot or an interview. Awards season is coming up, and I’m opening The Grammys, plus I’m performing at the Oscars since the song I wrote for that movie Shameless is nominated. Then there’s the tour."

As I talked, I took notice of how Ryder’s dark hair fell over his forehead. He was so cute, it was painful to look at him and not be able to touch him like I suddenly wanted to.

Wow, that had to be the alcohol talking.

Sounds like a hard life. I’m taking Organic Chemistry and Calc III this semester, he said glumly.

That’s because you’re a smarty-pants Environmental Science major for some unknown reason, I teased him.

Actually I’m double-majoring in Environmental Science and Poly Sci, he corrected me, and I rolled my eyes.

Ryder was one of the smartest people I knew. He had grand dreams of being an environmental lawyer, so he’d decided to dual major as an undergrad. He was the only person I knew who got excited about things like the ways humans could positively affect global warming and what we could do to prevent certain animals from going extinct. It was actually kind of admirable – and a little adorable when he got on a roll talking about something he was passionate about.

You’ll ace those classes, and you know it, I told him.

I guess, he said, shrugging. It’s just going to be a lot of work.

I noticed he didn’t refute my statement, because he knew he’d ace his classes. It was one of the things that honestly made Ryder so sexy to me. I loved how smart he was, and where I was artsy, he had a science brain and had always been good at the things I failed at. But we’d always complimented each other so well.

Growing up, he’d been this scrawny, nerdy boy who was shy and quiet, but he was so sweet, and I loved him so much. I liked to think that I helped bring him out of his shell with my fearlessness and ambition. And he’d definitely come into his own in the past few years. The once skinny, scrawny guy had grown into a sexy twenty year-old with a killer smile and a body to match. He was still shy though, and I wondered if he knew how he looked to the outside world, if he knew just how hot he was. I had a slew of friends who’d seen his picture and told me how gorgeous he was. Whether Ryder knew it or not, he was beautiful.

I rolled over onto my side so I was facing him. If you need a break, you’re welcome to come on tour with me while you’re on summer break. It might be nice to have a friend around.

It was ironic that I was saying that since when I was on tour, I was never really alone. There were tons of people around – my manager, my publicity team, my hair and make-up people, my stylist, the band I’d played with for four years, plus all the back-up dancers and the gigantic supporting crew that did all the other things that were so vital to making a tour successful. I had a lot of friends in that group, but I never really felt like I had anyone I could really talk to – at least no one like Ryder.

I was guarded by nature, only letting certain people in, and it took a lot for me to open up. I’d been burned by people early on in my career, so now I kept a lot of people at arm’s length until I could get to know and trust them. Except Whit. I’d trusted him from the start and let him in, and that had been a huge mistake. I wasn’t going to do that again. I figured it would be a long time before I let myself fall for another guy.

Yeah right. I’ll come on tour with you. Sure, Ryder joked.

I’m not kidding, Ry. It would be so much fun to have you there, I said, the idea suddenly sounding like the best one I’d ever had.

He’d visited me for a week the summer before while I’d been touring, and we’d had a blast. Just the prospect of having him there for the whole summer sounded incredible.

As amazing as that sounds, I can’t. I’m taking classes this summer, he said, bursting my bubble and making my face settle into a pout. But I will come see your shows in Orlando, Tampa and Jacksonville. You promised me tickets to those, remember?

All three cities were in driving distance from his school, so he’d be able to come to them. As soon as we’d finalized the tour dates, and I knew when I’d be near him, I’d called and told him to mark his calendar.

I’ll do better than that. You can just be backstage the whole time. That way we can hang out before and after the show.

Done. I’m in. For three nights in late April, you’ll have your number one fan cheering you on.

I reached out and ran my free hand back through his shaggy brown locks. His hair had gotten longer since I’d last seen him, and I liked it. Ryder closed his eyes, as I raked my nails against his scalp like I used to do all the time. We’d always been playful and touchy-feely with each other while we’d been growing up. I’d even slept in the same bed as him countless times – until we hit puberty and our parents put the kibosh on that option – but even still we were always cuddled up when we were around each other.

It was how I’d