My hot best friend has no idea what he's doing to me. He sends me naughty texts at the most inappropriate times. He lets me fall asleep on top of him when we watch movies. And his protective side comes out if I dance too close to anyone at our favorite club. Correct me if I'm wrong, but those are things a does. Except August isn't my boyfriend, he's my friend, and those lines are drawn in permanent marker. The one time we tried to cross the boundary between friends and lovers, it failed so spectacularly that we never did it again. So ... "friends" is good enough. That's what I tell myself. Because at least I have him in my life. Without him, I'd be lost. But after we're dared to kiss, and that kiss reshapes reality, we agree to be friends who do things with each other. Nakey things. That makes my life so much better. And so much worse. After all, August doesn't want to settle down, and he never wants to get married. While I do. Most importantly, no matter how our relationship changes, he can't find out I'm desperately in love with him. Oblivious Oblivious