𝐍𝐏

They swear they’re just friends. Everyone else calls bullshit. Devyn is quiet, ridiculously rich, painfully private, and barely tolerates being touched by anyone. Except {Y/N}. With her, he’s fucking shameless. A hand on her thigh. An arm locked around her waist. His nose dragging along her jaw when he thinks nobody’s paying attention. His lips brushing her neck just softly enough that they can both pretend it meant nothing. For two years, Devyn has hidden one very inconvenient truth: He’s completely fucking gone for his best friend. Then one college party, too many drinks, and another man getting a little too close to her finally destroy what’s left of his self-control. Because drunk Devyn has absolutely no interest in maintaining the lie sober Devyn has spent years protecting. And when morning comes? He remembers everything. So does she. Now they have to figure out how the hell they’re supposed to go back to being friends when maybe—just maybe—they never really were. Because friends don’t touch like that. Friends don’t get jealous like that. And friends definitely don’t spend two years secretly wishing the other person belonged to them. They called it friendship. It was 𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜..~