All Chapters of Friends With Boundaries (That She Keeps Breaking): Chapter 1 - Chapter 6

—CARLY—Okay, let’s get one thing straight. Ben from Marketing is sweet. And persistent. Like a puppy who’s been told ‘no’ a hundred times but still thinks this stick is the one you’ll throw.He was leaning in my office doorway again, looking like he’d practiced his smile in the mirror. “Carly. You’re looking… strategic today.”I didn’t look up from my screen. “That’s the goal, Ben. What’s up?”He took it as an invitation and sauntered in. “The new wrench campaign. I wanted your brilliant mind on the tagline. Thought maybe we could brainstorm over drinks later? That new speakeasy under the bridge?”This was, by my count, attempt number seven. I finally swiveled my chair to face him, giving him my best ‘polite but busy’ face. “Just email it to me. My brain’s pretty much welded to this vendor report until five.”His smile didn’t even crack. “You say that every time. One day, I’ll find the report that doesn’t have you in its clutches.” He winked. Actually winked. “I’m a patient man.”I m

—CHARLIE—It all felt weirdly normal.I mean, I’d lost count of the nights Carly had crashed at my place over the years. There was that infamous month during senior year when her parents were renovating and she basically commandeered my guest room—which, for a solid week during a brutal heatwave, had devolved into us sharing the one room with a functioning AC. One bed, a mountain of pillows between us, and a constant stream of her complaining about my taste in movies. So, her moving in? Not exactly uncharted territory.Which is why, later that same night, I wasn’t prepared.I was in bed, propped against the headboard, laptop balanced on my knees as I scanned a supplier report from Sweden. The loft was quiet, just how I like it. Then the door opened.No knock. It just swung inward. Carly stood there, backlit by the hallway light. She was wearing my gray Wayne Construction hoodie—the soft one I’d been looking for last week. It drowned her, hanging off one smooth shoulder and ending hig

—CHARLIE—The first thing that hit me wasn’t the smell.It was the dip in the mattress. A soft, warm hollow on the other side of the California king. My body knew it before my brain did. The weight of another person. A presence.Carly.The night came back to me in a flash. The hoodie. The laptop. That quiet, weird line about spending time. Her curled up in my goddamn spot. She hadn't left. She'd stayed. In my bed.A hard, swift rule, broken.A hard, swift rule, broken.But the guard dog in my chest didn't even growl. It yawned, rolled over, and went back to sleep. It’s Carly. Stand down.Then the smell came. Bacon. Coffee. Something buttery.I opened my eyes. The other side of the bed was empty, the sheets tangled. The scent was coming from my kitchen. My kitchen, which hadn’t seen more than a blender and a coffee machine in six months.I didn’t get up immediately. I lay there, listening. The low sizzle. The clink of a plate. A soft, off-key hum. It was the sound of an invasion that h