Unfriend Me: A Small Town Best Friends to Lovers Romantic Comedy (Jobs From Hell Book 3)
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Unfriend Me
Jobs From Hell
Marika Ray
Marika Ray Publishing
Contents
Unfriend Me
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Also by Marika Ray
About the Author
UNFRIEND ME
Copyright © 2020 by Marika Ray
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
First Edition: September 23, 2020
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-950141-23-4
Paperback ISBN: 978-1-950141-24-1
Unfriend Me
It’s hard to tell your best friend you’re in love with her when she’s busy dating everyone but you.
Amelia
I’ve been called a smart-mouthed, tattooed firecracker with a penchant for running straight into trouble, but after coming off the worst breakup in history, all I want is to get my life together. No more trouble, no more surprises.
So when my best friend changes the rules on me, I’m not sure how to react. Though my body sure knows how to react seeing him without his shirt on. Where did all those muscles come from? And when my ex comes back to town to wreak havoc, my lofty plans go right out the window.
Titus
I fell in love with Amelia in the sixth grade when I pulled her off another girl in a hair-pulling fight. And she put me directly in the friend zone. We’ve been through everything together from ER trips after skateboarding mishaps to fighting off a peacock with a mean streak. But the one thing I’ve never told her is how I really feel. Now that Amelia is single again, it’s time to make my move. But Amelia has never gone down without a fight involved, and this will be no different.
Either she’ll fall in love with me like I hope, or Amelia will unfriend me forever.
1
Titus
“What the hell, Amelia?”
She climbed up into my truck after nearly wrenching my passenger door off the hinges, flashing bright pink underwear I most certainly did not need to see. Don’t get me wrong, the woman looked hot as hell and under different circumstances I would have lodged that picture away in the recesses of my brain to take out later when I could dissect it in the privacy of my own delusion. As it was, we weren’t on good terms, so perving over her underwear seemed inappropriate.
Her dark hair hung down her back, a few strands threaded through the hoop earrings she only wore when she went out for a night on the town. Considering she’d called me for a ride in the middle of the night instead of her best friends, the Hell Raisers as they liked to call themselves, spoke to trouble in paradise with her current boyfriend.
I was elated she’d called me. Despite the distance between us the last year or so, I’d always be there for her, and I was glad she remembered that little fact. We’d even carved our initials in one of the huge trees at the park off Main Street one year, sealing the deal on our forever friendship.
The door slammed shut and I blinked away any desire that might have shown on my face. The short skirt that ended just below the curve of her ass wasn’t for me, her best friend. Or maybe ex-best friend. We hadn’t really talked about our official status lately. Hell, we hadn’t really talked at all since Daire came around. The full breasts about to spill out of the tiny tank top weren’t on display for my gaze either. Amelia had always dressed well, a flair for tight, short, and trendy over comfort, but her natural inclination had taken a steeper dive since she met Daire.
“Don’t even ask, Titus,” Amelia snapped, clicking her seat belt into place and turning her head away from the window to study my ancient stereo components like they fascinated her.
I bit my tongue and turned the wheel to exit the parking lot. Just as I was about to give it some gas, I saw movement on the patio outside the bar. Neon lights in the windows illuminated the outline of a guy who looked suspiciously like Daire, Amelia’s boyfriend. The guy was a hulking beast and he used his size to his advantage.
I’d met Daire almost a year ago when I worked a job in San Jose. He was a contractor turned real estate developer, working his way up from tiny side jobs to larger retail buildings. He’d seemed decent enough at the time, which was why I introduced him to Amelia to discuss opening a bed-and-breakfast in Auburn Hill. Unfortunately, I discovered that while Daire was a decent enough guy to other men, put him in the same room with a woman and he became a shark. A predator who thought women were to be hunted and toyed with for sport. He was a misogynist asshole.
My headlights hit the patio, a spotlight for Daire in his all-black attire. His leather-clad arm slithered around some blond woman’s neck, pulling her in to kiss her temple while he grabbed a handful of breast, out in the open where anyone could see them. Sick bastard had a little smile on his face watching me drive away. I clenched my jaw and shot a look at Amelia. Her head was still aimed at the console of my truck, her hair a curtain protecting her from the sight of her boyfriend fondling another woman right in front of her. Somehow I figured this wasn’t the first time she’d had to deal with this type of bullshit from the guy who was supposed to care about her more than anyone else.
Hitting the accelerator a bit harder than I should have, I tore out of the parking lot, a red haze coating the dark sky.
Motherfucker.
I was going to kill that asshole for doing this to Amelia.
“Have you dropped that loser yet?” I asked through my clenched jaw, hoping tonight would signal the tail end of this relationship fraught with problems.
I heard her long inhale through her nose, to give her patience or to keep from crying, I couldn’t tell.
“It’s not that easy, T.”
Her thin words only made me want to snap my steering wheel in half. My knuckles burned from the grip I couldn’t seem to loosen. With a glance out of the corner of my eye, Amelia appeared to retreat back into herself as she sat there next to me, a reaction that never would have happened before she met Daire. Amelia had always been bigger than life and sassier than any woman I’d ever met. What was it about this guy that made her small? Made her shrink into a helpless version of herself?
“It can be that easy. Just rip the Band-Aid, Lia,” I begged her, resorting to the nickname I’d used our whole lives. Back before Daire created a chasm between us that no amount of cajoling on my part could fix.
Amelia snorted, and while that wasn’t the retort I wanted, at least it showed some attitude. Some semblance of the backbone I’d always thought was lined with steel. The lights from the deserted highway flashed through the windshield as I put dis
tance between us and that damn bar. Amelia deserved to go to five-star restaurants, not seedy bars outside of map-dot towns. He’d probably driven them there on the back of his Harley without a single thought about her short skirt or carefully flat-ironed hair.
“Amelia,” I began again.
“Enough, Jackson!” she cut me off, the use of my last name a purposeful verbal jab.
I let it go, on unfamiliar ground now that Amelia and I had drifted apart. A few years ago, I could have joked her out of her bad mood in a matter of ten minutes. This new Amelia seemed broken down and bone-tired, unable to grasp on to the lifeline I kept throwing her way. I nearly bit a hole in my lip keeping my mouth shut. Instead, I stewed on what to do. And I would do something. Mark my words.
All too soon, I pulled into the driveway of Hell Hotel back in Auburn Hill, where Amelia worked and lived as the manager. I kept the truck running and spun to face her. She stared out my windshield, catatonic.
“Lia. Are you okay?” I asked softly, like I would an injured animal.
She flinched, but still her eyes stayed dry. The girl was practically famous for never crying. Claimed her tear ducts were broken. My theory was that Amelia simply channeled all her emotions into anger instead of sadness. Her anger bucket overflowed on a daily basis, causing a slow leak of sassiness that accompanied her wherever she went. She backed down to no one, which was why this thing with Daire had me spooked.
She finally turned her head to me, giving me her eyes for the first time that night. She was so fucking beautiful. Anger spiked in my chest again at that asshole for treating her like she didn’t matter.
“I’ll be okay, T. Thanks for picking me up.” She leaned over and pulled me into a hug.
My hand found her back, her bare skin a temptation I couldn’t indulge in. She hadn’t hugged me in almost a year and I wouldn’t risk making her pull away. All too quickly, she let go and grabbed for the door handle.
“Stop.” I gritted my teeth and slid out the door, willing my body to ignore the desire that coursed through it from innocently touching her. She needed a friend right now.
I came around the hood and opened her door, helping her down. She flicked glances at me, trying to figure me out and it cut deep that she didn’t know what to do with a guy holding her door or making sure she got home safely. I clenched a fist and promised myself it could connect with Daire’s face later. She wobbled away from me on her high heels, that damn skirt inching up with each step. She kept tugging it down, probably aware of a draft in sensitive areas. My eyeballs couldn’t seem to tear themselves away from the sight. I waited until she got inside the hotel before I got back in my truck and headed home.
The shitbag house I rented was dark when I pulled in. Rip must already be asleep, which was probably for the best. I had too much angry energy burning in my gut to be good company. While Rip and I had been friends since kindergarten, I’d been best friends with Amelia since junior high. I remember the day it all happened like it was yesterday.
Amelia got in an argument with some girl at school right after the bell rang to let us out for the day. The girl’s boyfriend got involved and soon it was two against one. Not one for fighting, or for seeing a girl get ganged up on, I’d marched over to put an end to it. And I did end it, but not before I’d had to subdue a flailing Amelia, who was dead set on pulling every single hair out of that girl’s scalp.
She was a wild child. I was hooked.
Amelia had let me have it for letting the girl go before she could make her pay, but I’d stood my ground. I dropped a joke, and her voice came down a few decibels. I told her a funny story, and she forgot the scuffle entirely. She’d grinned, her metal braces flashing and my pubescent-boy body had never seen a happier sight. By the time I’d walked her home, we’d come up with a special handshake and made plans to walk together every day.
Amelia was just like that. She either loved you or hated you almost instantly. There was no in-between.
I locked the front door behind me and stripped off my jeans and T-shirt. The clock said it was after one in the morning. I was going to be tired tomorrow on the job. Looked like another stop at Coffee would be necessary. They made killer donuts, along with strong enough java to jump-start a dead man’s heart.
I set my alarm for even earlier than usual. A plan was forming in my head. It was time for us, Amelia’s circle of friends, to perform an intervention of sorts. She needed us, even if she’d never admit it. I’d rally the Hell Raisers tomorrow and we’d come up with a solid plan to wrench her away from Daire. If I felt there were any redeeming qualities to that guy, I wouldn’t get involved. I’d let them handle it like two adults. But damn, the guy had crossed the line into abusive and I’d never stand for that.
As I tried to get to sleep, a pang of something that felt an awful lot like guilt hit my chest. Because as much as Amelia was my best friend, she was so much more. And my feelings for her were top secret. Not a soul knew I’d been secretly pining for her since that day in sixth grade. Maybe I was only stepping into the middle of her relationship with Daire for selfish reasons. Maybe she’d never look at me as anything more than her friend. Maybe I needed to just move on with my life and find my own version of happiness that had nothing to do with Amelia Waldo. All highly likely scenarios and yet I couldn’t stop myself from hurtling down this course of action.
A stack of papers on my desk glowed in the moonlight coming through the parted curtains as I tossed and turned. Those simple pages just needed my signature and I’d own that parcel of land at the end of Main Street where I planned to build my house. I always thought I’d be picking out the floor plan with Amelia calling the shots and convincing me to give her everything she wanted, which I’d do because I was utterly and irrevocably under her spell. Always thought we’d build a life there together on the outskirts of downtown where we’d spent our childhood.
There were derogatory names for guys like me. Pussy-whipped. Cuntrolled. Vaginanapped.
I preferred the term unrequited. And what I really wanted was to be unfriended. I’d given up a part of my heart to her years ago when I didn’t even know what my obsession with her really meant, and it had become an ingrained habit that felt as much a part of me as breathing. Amelia smiled and I did too. She dreamed big and I supported her every step of the way. Where she went, I followed, happy to be by her side.
Problem was, I friend-zoned myself early on when I was just happy to bask in the glow of everything Amelia. I didn’t know how to step out of that box without ruining everything we were together.
My phone vibrated on my nightstand. I picked it up, since the sandman wasn’t anywhere close to sweeping me into dreamland. Like the lovesick fool I was, I’d had an alert on Amelia’s social media pages for years so I’d see the second she posted anything. Tonight’s post was a picture of her and Daire, their faces squished together, the neon lights of the bar from tonight in the background. He smirked and she grinned widely, her arm around his shoulders as he held a longneck beer instead of her. They must have taken it before shit hit the fan and she called me to pick her up. It wasn’t the picture that had me throwing my phone against the wall. It was the caption she wrote.
Relationships include fights, jealousy, arguments, faith, and disagreements, but a real relationship fights through all that with love.
I swiped a hand through my long hair. I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or break something. Preferably Daire’s smug, undeserving face.
“What the hell, Amelia?”
2
Amelia
“Tell me this is a bad idea.”
I’d called in sick today, a difficult feat when you lived where you worked. Pretty sure there was a phrase about shitting where you sleep, but I wasn’t one for living like the mystical “they” suggested. I marched to my own beat and that beat was telling me to slack off today and lick my wounds. I was fairly certain the front desk employee, the kitchen staff, and the maids would be fine without me for one freaking da
y. But faking being sick meant I couldn’t leave my room or they’d see me sneaking out looking no worse for wear. Which meant I had to come up with something to do in my room to keep my mind off the actual thing I needed to be dealing with. Avoidance was alive and well today.
I did have a mini fridge stocked full of alcohol in my room. One of the perks of living in a hotel. So, what’s a girl to do except get the solo party started? Okay, not entirely solo. I had the hotel cat, Big Foot, with me, though he wasn’t a great drinking buddy.
“Normally, I’d say it’s a great idea, but given what you just told me about last night, I’d say getting drunk might be an unhealthy outlet.”
Lucy was talking and I swore the cell phone was wedged to my ear, but I was too busy trying to twist the damn cap off the vodka bottle. I wasn’t really listening.
“Jesus, do they make these things childproof?”
Lucy snorted through the phone. “Um yeah, it’s a bottle of alcohol.”
“Well, I’m not a child and I still can’t get the damn thing open.” I knocked the neck of the bottle against the table firmly enough to possibly jar it loose. Worked for nail polish bottles.