Boys and girls can’t be just friends. A lie made up by overprotective fathers afraid of the illustrious teenage boy and his uncontrollable hormones. Reid and I were the exception to the rule. Best friends. A friendship bound with the spit in our palms and the gospel of a crossed heart. I lasted four years before the cliche caught me. Another four before my truth surged forward with an attempt at a kiss and a drunken confession. Ten years on, Reid Rivere is Hollywood’s golden boy. Ten years on, and I, Roxy Monroe have found myself embroiled in another cliche... at least I’m consistent. Men and women can’t be just friends. I’m starting to learn that the hard way.