"Hey, Shane…"

"Hey, Jenna…what's up?"

Shane pushed a few stray hairs from his face. He had been sleeping before she had knocked on his hotel room door. He didn't mind being woken up by her, though. She came over at night sometimes just to talk; he could talk to her about anything. She didn't usually come this late, but he was happy to see her. He was always happy to see her.

He looked her up and down; she had obviously been out clubbing. Her tight, dark, skinny jeans hugged her body perfectly, as did her silver halter top. Her long, dark red hair was pulled up into a loose bun, out of the way of her beautiful face; her perfect, tan skin, deep brown eyes, and plump, red lips.

"How are you, sweetie?" she asked, taking his hand in hers.

By the tone of her voice, he could tell that she'd been drinking. He wasn't surprised; every Saturday, she went out with Melissa, Jason's girlfriend, and they both came back fairly tipsy.

"Um…I'm fine," Shane replied, pulling his hand away. "I was kinda sleeping…how are you?"

"I'm better now," she smiled, stepping into the room and pressing her lips against his.

He wrapped his arms around her waist instinctively; he had dreamed about kissing her for so long. He'd played it over and over again in his mind. He remembered every detail about the first time they had met; he had loved her instantly. That was two years ago, and his feelings had only grown stronger.

Shane realized what he was doing and pushed her away quickly. "You should go."

"Why?" she asked innocently, running her hands over his chest.

"You know why."

Jenna pouted dramatically. "You don't like me?"

He sighed heavily. "I think you're great, Jenna."

"I'm not pretty enough?" she smiled, knowing that wasn't true.

"You're beautiful."

"Then why don't you want me, Shaney?" she asked, stroking his cheek gently.

Why don't I want you? he thought, the notion ridiculous. He had wanted her for two years. Resisting the urge to wrap his arms around her and kiss her, like he just had, had taken every ounce of self-control he had. Not telling anyone how he felt had been even harder, but he couldn't.

"Jenna, stop," he said seriously, pushing her hands away from him and taking a step back. "It doesn't matter what I want."

"Of course it does…" she gave him a sexy smile, moving towards him.

"No, it doesn't," he repeated, gripping her wrists so she couldn't touch him again. "You're my best friend's girlfriend."

It killed Shane to see her with Nate. It killed him when Nate asked him for relationship advice. But what really, really killed him was that Nate didn't know what he had. He was sure that Nate loved her. They'd been together for two years, after all, but he took her for granted. He didn't treat her like she deserved to be treated, like a princess, like Shane would treat her if she was his girlfriend. Sometimes Shane thought that Nate loved the fact that she was a model more than he actually loved her.

Jenna smiled at him seductively. She reached behind her neck and pulled at the end of the bow that was holding her halter top up. It untied easily and her shirt fell to her waist.

Shane was in shock. He stared blankly for a second before quickly tearing his eyes away and meeting hers. She began walking towards him slowly; he took a step back for every one she took forward. "Jenna…you shouldn't…I can't…you have to go…"

He stepped back and ran into the end of his bed, forcing him to sit down. She grinned and placed one knee on either side of his thighs, straddling him.

"I know you want me, Shane. Just do what feels right," she whispered, kissing him passionately.

Nothing about this felt right. Nate would never speak to him again if he even knew that they had kissed once, let alone what was happening now. He never wanted to be 'that guy' in any situation. She was tipsy.

But at the same time, it felt like she was meant to be in his arms. That they were meant to be kissing. A million things raced through Shane's mind. He tried to keep reminding himself: she's your best friend's girl. But only one thought persevered.

I love her.

He knew what his body wanted to do. He had imagined every detail; how her skin would feel, how she would smell and taste, how her voice would sound when she whispered in his ear. He fought it for a moment, but the thought wouldn't stop.

I love her. I love her so much. So much more than he does.

Against all his better judgment, he gently placed his hands on her waist. Her skin was so soft under his fingers. He couldn't stop himself from running his hands around her back and pulling her warm body closer to his. He could feel her hands slide down to the hem of his tee-shirt.

He knew he should stop it right there, before it could go any further. He knew he should make her leave. He knew all the reasons that this was going to blow up in his face. He knew all the things he was risking. But his mind wouldn't stop saying I have loved her for so long, and so he let her pull his shirt up and over his head. And then he let her push him back and lie on top of him, her bare chest against his as she kissed his neck and pushed his sweatpants to the ground.