Chapter 12

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Jasmine's POV:

Marc's arms wrap around me, holding me tight. They're solid and muscular, much more than I expected. For the longest time, I convinced myself that muscles weren't attractive—probably because Kendrick was so skinny, I told myself I preferred that look. But now, lying here with Marc's strong arm enveloping me, I feel so small and safe, and it's like I'm rethinking everything I thought I knew. We're on the couch, with me nestled against him as the little spoon. One of his arms is draped over me, pressed close to my chest, while the other supports my head like a pillow. I've never felt this kind of embrace before.

After Kendrick and I broke up three years ago, he told me that being held like this was no longer my place—that it was a privilege reserved only for his girlfriend. So now, feeling this level of comfort and protection—even if it's just from a friend—stirs up a mix of emotions I didn't expect. I can't help but overthink it. My mind is buzzing with questions. Marc is far from unattractive. In fact, he's handsome, with this blend of strength and warmth that's rare to find. He's got a sense of humor that puts me at ease, but there's also this sensitive side where he's just so understanding, like he knows exactly what to say to make me feel seen.

"Why are you single? I don't think I've ever seen you bring a woman over," I ask, a hint of curiosity and concern creeping into my voice. Now that I really think about it, I've never seen him with anyone. Could there be a reason? Is there something I don't know? Am I roommates with, like, a serial killer?

"I can't have the girl I want, and I can't see myself with anyone else, so I just keep to myself," he admits, a hint of disappointment shadowing his words.

"You don't have needs?" I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.

"What do you mean by 'needs'?" he replies, his eyes narrowing in genuine curiosity.

"You don't fuck other women? You just wait for her?" I press, trying to understand.

He hesitates for a moment, then looks at me with a vulnerability I haven't seen before. "Can I be honest with you?" he asks, his voice softer, almost timid.

"Of course you can. Remember? This couch is our safe space," I reassure him, hoping to make him feel safe enough to share what's on his mind.

"I just, you know, cum to the thought and fantasy of her. I realize that sounds kind of crazy and overly dramatic, but it gets the job done," he admits with a half-smile. A wave of jealousy washes over me. The idea of a man so devoted to someone that he'd rather hold onto his fantasy of her than even consider another woman—it's overwhelming. Honestly, it's one of the most romantic things I've ever heard. Whoever she is, she's the luckiest girl on the planet. I can't help but think how much I would've loved for Kendrick to feel that way about me.

"If we're being honest with each other, I've seen a completely different side of you these past few days. I've never seen you like this before. She's out of her mind not to want you," I say, meaning every word.

"Yeah, she is," he replies with a laugh that's almost like an evil genius's laugh. "She's obsessed with another man the same way I'm obsessed with her."

"I highly doubt that whoever she's obsessed with is half the man you are," I say, shaking my head.

"He isn't," he laughs again, that mischievous glint still in his eye. "But she met him first and they have a lot of history. I've just got to let that run its course until she finally snaps out of it."

"So you just fantasize about her? You don't watch porn or anything?" I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me.

"She is my porn," he says plainly. "I've heard her before, so I know exactly what her moans sound like. I just let my imagination run wild."

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