Okay, not usually mine, but whatever.
He returns the laugh and nods toward the freezer. “Looks like we both had an ice cream craving tonight.”
I nod. “Sure did. There’s no better way to end the day than with ice cream.”
He turns to consider his options and steps closer to me. “What’s your favorite?”
“I don’t think there’s such a thing as a favorite ice cream. Bad question to ask someone.”
He peeks down at me, his upper lip curling into a smirk, and then shoves his hands into his pockets. “It isn’t a bad question. In fact, it’s your typical first-date question.”
“I haven’t had many first dates to actually know if that’s a fact or something you just made up.”
“Oh, come on.” He bumps his shoulder against mine. “An extremely smart and gorgeous girl like you? I doubt that.”
“Eh, I prefer to study.” It shocks me that I feel so comfortable in his presence. I’m normally not into small talk, and I never thought I’d be so chill talking to this man—a man I’ve heard so many girls on campus drool over.
“You going to tell me your favorite, or do I need to ask you out on a first date to get my answer?”
I snort. “Good one.”
“I’m serious, Carolina.”
This time, when I peer up at him, there’s no smirk on his face.
“Are you sure …” I gulp, lowering my voice. “Are you sure that’s appropriate?”
“Probably not, but I’m good at keeping secrets.” He reaches across me, his arm brushing against my chest, and opens the freezer door. “Now, choose your favorite for me and tell me when you’re free.”
I hesitate, wondering if I’m batshit crazy. “Okay.” My answer comes out in a whisper.
Why not? Maybe I need to step out of my box with other people.
I’m fighting back a smile as I dip underneath his arm, grab a mint chocolate chip, and hand it to him. I rest my back against the freezer when he shuts the door behind me. He tucks the ice cream under his armpit and leans into me, his lips close to mine.
“Carolina!”
We both pull back at Margie yelling my name from the next aisle. “What are you, milking the cow over there? Pick something, and let’s go!”
“Give me your number,” he rushes out, tugging his phone from his pocket.
A smile is smothered across my face as I give it to him.
“You’d better get back to your friend,” he says, reaching out and skimming his hand over my jaw. “Hopefully, I’ll see you soon.”
Oh my God.
Swoon.
I keep my back against the freezer door, watching him as he disappears down the aisle, and then grab the ice cream. We load up on snacks and go back to the dorm.
As soon as I change into my pajamas and take a giant bite of ice cream, my phone beeps with a text.
Unknown Number: You’re right. Mint chocolate chip is the best. When are you available?
I grin, shove my spoon in the container, and hurriedly text back.
Me: Friday night?
Unknown Number: Perfect.
Maybe this girl needs to change her college life.
Try something exciting.
I almost put my phone on the charger and finish my ice cream before crashing, but then I remember I need to text Rex. There’s no doubt he’ll show up here if I don’t.
Me: I’m home, safe and sound.
My Main Man: Good. I apologize if I was being an ass tonight.
Me: It’s okay.
My Main Man: Good night, babe. Love you.
Me: Night. Love you, too.
5
Rex
College—Sophomore Year
Carolina has been the master of call-dodging lately.
Come to think of it, she’s been distant all week, ever since our stupid spat at that lame-ass party.
I texted her this morning, asking her what she was doing. It’s the weekend, so she doesn’t have class, and I want to hang out. After receiving no response, I asked if she wanted to get pizza. An hour later, I called. My next text was asking her what the fuck her deal was. That also went ignored.
Something is up.
She never ignores me. Even when she’s pissed, she always at least replies with a smart-ass GIF.
A sick feeling settles in my stomach, a heavy dread falling over me.
Is this it?
Where college drags us apart and I lose her?
I clench my fists.
I think the fuck not.
Carolina and I are lifers, friends until the end. I don’t give two shits what a future boyfriend or husband or any guy I’m going to hate who comes in the picture says about it. Carolina won’t have to worry about that on my end. There will never be a woman who breaks our bond, who kicks her out of my life.
Some might say that’s selfish of me, but I don’t care.
It’s not that I’ve forbidden Carolina to have a boyfriend. I can’t pull that shit. I just want her to hold back for as long as possible. I’m not ready to put up a fight to not lose her yet. It scares me too damn much.
When I knock on her dorm door, I don’t expect her to answer dressed like every man’s wet dream—or at least, my regularly scheduled wet dream … of her.
The short jean miniskirt she’s wearing shows off every curve of her body, a white shirt hangs off one shoulder, and she’s wearing some type of heel shit that isn’t exactly a heel.
Platforms?
Shit. My sister wears them …
Wedges.
They’re wedges.
Unlike my sister, Carolina isn’t a frequent wedges wearer.
At least, my Carolina isn’t.
Maybe shit has changed. She did say she was a new Carolina.
I just hope to fuck this new Carolina doesn’t leave me.
“Damn, where are you going?” I bite into my lower lip.
Her dark hair is down—unlike my usual Carolina who regularly sports it in a messy bun. She’s wearing makeup—her bubblegum pink lipstick drawing my attention to her plump lips—and she replaced her glasses with contacts, showing off her coffee-brown eyes. Her standing in front of me, looking sexy as hell, reminds me of her outfit of choice at the party.
Carolina’s sweaters have started disappearing. I miss those ugly-ass things.
I suppress a moan, and my cock jerks in my sweats, reminding me of how much I want her … as more than a damn friend. When we had sex, when she insisted it wouldn’t change anything between us, it didn’t.
Well, it didn’t change the dynamic of our relationship.
We still hang out, talk, and are normal around each other as if it never happened.
Emotionally, it has changed me.
I’ll never forget the happiness shooting through me when she laid down on my bed and trusted me with something she’d held on to for so long. The perfect feeling of sliding in and out of her will stick with me until I take my last breath. That night, I knew Carolina would never be just a friend, but I also knew I needed to act like she was. It was the best and most awkward sex I’ve had in my life.
I’m a stupid guy.
Selfish at times.
I’d take her heart, sure, and I’d make her come a few times, but I could never give her everything she deserved. She’s a romantic. She wants the marriage, the family, the man who knows how to be in a relationship, and that isn’t me. So, I play it cool when we’re together, acting as though she doesn’t hold me by my heart and balls. I love her enough to never fuck her again, but that doesn’t mean I don’t imagine her naked and moaning my name.
But when she’s dressed like this, fuck, it’s hard not to reach out and touch her. It’s hard, not telling her how amazing her body is and how I’d love to have her again.
“I’m going out with a friend,” she answers with a slight shrug, like it’s something she does on the regular.
“A friend?” I look around her to peek into her room, searching for this friend.
“Is it Margie?”
God, let it please be Margie. Please fucking be Margie.
Also, God, one more request: please also don’t let it be Margie dragging her to another party.
I like Margie. She’s cool people, and I know her intentions of getting Carolina to enjoy college life are pure. I just wish it were going bowling or shopping, not partying with dudes who look at her with sex eyes.
“No, I have more than one friend, you know,” she replies with a frown.
She turns, giving me space to walk into her room. For the first time, I feel uninvited in here.
I’ve lost count of how many chicks I’ve ditched to be with Carolina.
She knows every damn move I make.
Yet here she is, acting as though she doesn’t owe me the same, that she doesn’t need to explain that she’s most likely going out with a guy—a stupid jackass not worthy of having her. I can’t stop myself from clenching my fist.
“Then, what friend?” I question … okay, more like interrogate.
She pulls at the hem of her skirt. “A friend,” she stresses.
“You’re sure dressed up to hang out with just a friend. And why do you keep putting so much emphasis on the word friend?” My clenched fist releases to hold two fingers in the air. “You have two friends: me and Margie. So, obviously, this friend”—I cover my mouth and cough—“douche bag—isn’t one of them.”
“I have other friends from class, and I like to be cute sometimes. Sue me.”
“Bullshit,” I spit, unaware of how aware she is of my jealousy. “You have a date.” My stomach turns.
I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.
Why this is making me so sick to my stomach, I have no idea.
Oh, wait. Yes, I do.
It’s because I’m fucking in love with my best fucking friend, and I never want to share her.
“It’s a hangout,” she says.
“A hangout with a dude?” I correct with irritation.
“Fine. I’m going on a date. You happy now, Daddy?”
“Hey now.” I can’t help my voice from turning playful. “You know how I feel about chicks calling me daddy in bed.”
Oh fuck. Now, I’m thinking about her calling someone else daddy in bed. Playfulness ejected.
“Good thing all we do is sleep in your bed, so that’s something you’ll never have to worry about.”
Except once, is what I want to tell her. One time, we did more than sleep in my bed.
I collapse onto her bed, making myself comfortable, and refrain from pulling her down with me. I snatch a pillow and place it behind my head. “So, who’s the lucky guy?”
She pushes her phone into her purse. “Just a guy from class. No big deal.”
“What class, hmm?”
“None of Your Business 101.”
I snap my fingers. “How about this? Cancel your plans and hang out with me instead.”
She shakes her head. “Nope.”
I throw my head back. “Fine, but give me his name.”
She parks her hands on her hips. “You don’t need a name. You don’t give me the names of all the girls you hook up with.”
I perk up, my back stiffening. “Oh, so now, you’re hooking up with him, not just going out on a date?” What the flying fuck? No. No. I am not allowing this.
“You’re annoying,” she grumbles, taking a last look in the mirror and fluffing out her hair.
“Still waiting for that name.” I tap my finger against my watch.
“Still not going to give it to you.”
I jump to my feet. “What if something happens to you? What if he’s a serial killer or some shit? I’ll need to know who you were with, so I can kill him.”
“I doubt he’s going to murder me,” she deadpans.
“You never know.” My voice turns serious, and I beat her to her doorway, blocking her from moving into the hallway. “When you get in the car, take a picture of his driver’s license and send it to me.”
She holds her palm up. “Uh, no. That’s not weird or anything.”
“It’s normal. My sister did it in college with her friends. The dude will know there’s evidence you were with him, and I’ll have the info to hunt him down and chop off his balls if he lays a hand on you.”
“I don’t badger you about your dates.”
“A.) I don’t date. B.) I wouldn’t give a shit telling you who I was going out with.”
She crosses her arms. “Move it, Rex. I need to go.”
I scoot to the side, and she walks past me. I stay on her heels as we move down the hallway, down the stairwell, and out to the parking lot.
“Whoa, dude isn’t even picking you up?” I say when she tugs her car key from her purse. “He already sucks.”
“Oh my God,” she groans, throwing her head back. “Go away.”
Rushing in front of her, I turn around and walk backward while still talking. “Look, text the guy, tell him you realized I’d give you a better time than he could, and let’s do something. Your choice. Anything you want.” I sound close to begging.
“No, Rex,” she says sternly. “Go party, like you have all the times you’ve ditched me lately.”
I wince. “The fuck? I’ve never ditched you. On the few times I’ve gone to parties, I’ve always told you that’s what I was doing. I’ve never made plans with you and then bailed on them.”
“And I didn’t make plans with you tonight, so I’m not ditching.” She looks down at her phone when it beeps with a text. “I have to go.”
I move to her side, keeping at her pace, my words quickly falling from my mouth—almost in desperation. I have a bad feeling about this. “Pizza sure sounds fucking killer right now, don’t you think?”
She doesn’t reply.
“He’s not even picking you up.” I snort. “Some stand-up dude.”
She turns around, her face softening. “Rex, I’ll be back later, okay? Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
I swallow.
There’s no changing her mind.
Just as the night we had sex, I know determined Carolina.
This is determined Carolina.
Fuck!
She gets into her car, and I knock on the window.
As soon as she rolls it down, I poke my head through. “Text me when you get home.”
She nods. “I will.”
“Or I’ll—”
“I know,” she interrupts. “Or you’ll be knocking on my door.”
I turn my head to kiss her on the cheek. “Have fun tonight, I guess.”
My shoulders slump as I watch her pull out of the parking lot. I’ve never felt so fucking defeated, and I don’t know why I’m this bothered. She’s gone on a few dates before, but something doesn’t seem right with this one.
It’s all fun and games, dating around in college … until it’s your best friend doing it.
My phone beeps with a text message from the chick I was talking with at the party. After Carolina left, I went back in for five minutes before bailing. Clarissa stopped me before I did, and we exchanged numbers.
Clarissa: Hey, want to get together? I’m still salty about you leaving the party early.
Me: Nah, not today. Rain check?
Clarissa: Rain check. Let me know if you change your mind.
I need to be available in case Carolina A.) calls me, needing a ride or to be saved or for me to beat up the dude, or B.) makes it back to her dorm, safe and sound.
When I get back to my dorm, I order a pizza, turn on the TV, flip through channels, and decide on 20/20. It’s Friday night, and I don’t give two shits about being at a party. I give all the shits about wanting to be with Carolina. I can’t stop myself from texting her.
Me: On a scale of 1–10, how lame is your date?
No answer. I wait fifteen minutes and text again.
Me: You must’ve fallen asleep because he’s lame AF. I’ll call you in 10 to wake you up.
She texts back
a minute later.
The Smartest and Coolest Girl in the World: I can’t text. It’s rude!
Me: Sure you can. I do it all the time.
The pizza I ordered arrives, and I walk down to the lobby to grab it. I text her a picture of it as soon as I’m back in my room. Chicken and pepperoni—her favorite.
Me: You’re really turning down this? Yum, yum. I won’t save you any.
No response.
I eat my pizza, watch a few shows, and text her an hour later.
Me: The streetlights are about to come on. I expect you to be home, or you’re grounded.
The Smartest and Coolest Girl in the World: You’re going to ruin my date!
Me: That’s my mission.
The Smartest and Coolest Girl in the World: Officially signing off.
Me: Officially waiting for you to realize the date is a bust.
Two hours later.
The Smartest and Coolest Girl in the World: Home, Daddy.
Swear to God, my heartbeat lowers a good twelve beats. Thank God.
Me: I might have to change my stance on that word. I like it from you.
The Smartest and Coolest Girl in the World: You’re nuts.
Me: Get some rest. You’re mine tomorrow.
6
Rex
College—Junior Year
Six Months Later
My phone ringing wakes me up.
Carolina.
It’s after midnight.
We haven’t talked today. Hell, even though we still talk almost daily, it’s not like it used to be. I’m losing her to this secret douche bag she’s dating, who she’ll tell me nothing about. Even Margie is clueless to her new boy toy.
She put a passcode on her phone, but considering I know everything about her, I figured it out. I crossed personal boundaries and went through her text messages. His Contact was saved under James—like that’s easy to narrow down.
I shuddered as I read through a few sext messages, and just as I was hitting his Contact information, Carolina walked back into the room.
Just Friends (Blue Beech) Page 5
