by Brit Benson
Love You Better
Brit Benson
Copyright© 2021 by Brit Benson
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review and certain other noncommercial use permitted by copyright law.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons and things living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design by Murphy Rae
Editing by Rebecca at Fairest Reviews Editing Services
Proofing by Sarah at All Encompassing Books
Created with Vellum
This one is for 8-year-old me.
It might not be the kind of book we initially imagined, but I like this one better.
We freakin’ did it, girl.
Salute- Little Mix
R U Mine?- Arctic Monkeys
Lovebug – Jonas Brothers
S.L.U.T. – Bea Miller
A Little Bit Yours- JP Sage
Older than I Am- Lennon Stella
Bruised Not Broken – Matoma
I Wanna – The All American Rejects
A Little Less Sixteen Candles- Fall Out Boy
Sugar- Maren Morris
One Kiss – Dua Lipa
Like No One Does- Jake Scott
Poetry- Wrabel
Watermelon Sugar High- Harry Styles
Give it to You – Julia Michaels
I Think I’m OKAY – Machine Gun Kelly
Come On Get Higher – Matt Nathanson
Love You For A Long Time- Maggie Rogers
Here (In Your Arms) – Hellogoodbye
Intentions- Justin Beiber
5 More Minutes- Jonas Brothers
If You Love Her – Forest Blakk
God is a Woman - Ariana Grande
The extended playlist is available here.
Content Note from the Author
Please be aware: this book contains references to sexual assault that may be upsetting to some readers. Though the assault does not take place on page, it is discussed briefly, and some emotional effects of the trauma are shown.
If you’ve been a victim of sexual assault, I encourage you to contact a professional who is trained to help. Call the National Sexual Assault Hotline at 800.656.HOPE or speak with someone online at Rainn.org
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
9th Grade
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
12th Grade
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Senior Prom
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Epilogue
Want More?
Sneak Peek
Acknowledgments
About the Author
1
Mascara smeared. Heels in hand. Not-so-attractive post-coital bed head.
Another Saturday morning.
Another walk of shame. Without the shame, of course.
I’ve definitely gotten smarter about it, too. Checking the weather beforehand is probably one of my proudest planning maneuvers. I learned that lesson the hard way when I had to haul my sopping wet behind three blocks in the pouring rain at 6 a.m. a few months ago. And packing travel ballet flats in my clutch next to my pepper spray and condoms is a pretty genius move, if I do say so myself.
Not every Friday night ends in a hookup, but when they do, I’m nothing if not prepared.
Most weekends, it’s just me and my friend Jesse, dancing and people watching, releasing the tension from a long week of classes, internship hours, volunteer shifts, and the like. Some nights, I’ll act as J’s wing woman, and occasionally, like last night, someone will strike my fancy and, voila!, the potential for a late night playdate. Then I have to decide between the comfort of my apartment or an excursion.
Meaning, we head back to his place for the night.
Meaning, I rock the walk of shame instead of sleeping on my 800 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets.
If I go back to his, I don’t have to worry about disturbing my roommate, soiling my precious sheets, or engaging the awkward morning after exchange. I can sneak out whenever I want. And, while my apartment is cozy and familiar and mine, the idea of bringing some random into my personal space still makes my stomach twist, and not in a good way.
So far, excursions have always won out.
Last night went well, too. After my pep talk, I only had to do one grounding exercise, and that’s a big improvement from some of my previous, uh, excursions. I suppose if I’m going to keep this up, attempting to bring a guy back to my place would be a logical next step.
Just to see how it goes.
I should take a closer look at the pros and cons. Compare my notes from the last few times. I’ll have to work it all out tonight. My head is too fuzzy to make sense of it now, and I’ll need a couple of cups of coffee in my system before I can really dive in.
As I continue the trek up the block to meet my Uber, my phone vibrates in my clutch.
I don’t even have to look at the Caller ID to see who it is.
Six a.m. on a Saturday and my best friend is still on top of my mess.
Before I even say hello, Kelley speaks.
“Ivy.”
“Kelley.”
“You’re on the move.”
I smile at his matter-of-fact tone and the way his voice is still gravelly from sleep. Low and growly. The idea of being the first person he speaks to after waking makes me feel warm in a way that I choose to ignore.
“I am. You’re tracking me.”
“Of course. It’s in the best friend code: don’t let your bestie go home with the beefy dudebro with an undercut from the bar unless you’re stalking her promiscuous ass on Friend Finder.”
I snort, and it’s unfeminine and unapologetic. He’s right, though, and I love him for it. It’s been our code for the last eight months, and I’d do it for him, if he ever stopped being a stick in the mud and went out once in a while.
“How do you know he was beefy with an undercut?” I ask, curious.
“You have a type, Ives. It’s always the same kind of guy. Undercut, gym rat, tan. It’s like you want to fuck the cast of Jersey Shore.”
I flinch a little at his observation, but the smile I can hear in his voice soothes the offense. He didn’t mean anything by it. If he knew...well. He doesn’t know, so I shake it off. He’s always teasing me and giving me a hard time, but he never judges, so I play along.
“Oh my gosh, Kelley! Don’t be crass.”
“I call ‘em like I see ‘em, Ives. And anyway, I made Jesse send me a picture of him.”
I laugh again, louder and fuller this time. Jesse isn’t just my weekend wingman; he’s also Kelley’s roommate, which means even if Kelley doesn’t come out with us, he’s still pretty well-informed. I shake my head and grin. I love our friend group—me, Kelley, Jesse, and my roommate Bailey—even if we do tend to get a little too up in each other’s business at times.
“Oh boy. That’s next level.”
“Only for you, Ivy.”
>
I can picture him leaning on his kitchen counter, that infuriating little side smirk on his face as he sips his morning coffee. He’s probably shirtless, defined abs on display, sweats riding low on his hips. I give my fuzzy head a little shake.
“This is a little late for you, yeah?”
“I couldn’t get an Uber any earlier. The shortest wait was half an hour.”
“Damn. What’d you do?”
“Hid in a corner of the apartment lobby for 20 minutes and played Farm World on my phone until I got the text that my Uber was close. I didn’t want to wait on the curb.”
He laughs.
“What are you doing today?” I ask him.
Tonight is Netflix and Fill, our standing weekly hangout where Kelley and I take turns cooking each other dinner and then veg out on the couch. Our Saturday evenings are set, but his Saturday days are usually more fluid than mine.
“If Jesse comes back soon, Imma hit the gym with him.”
“Hate to break to it to you, Kell, but I doubt that will happen.” I giggle. “Pretty sure J went home with two very willing partners last night.”
“Of course, he did,” Kelley deadpans, and I can practically hear his eyeroll. “Then it looks like I’ll be flying solo at the gym today.”
Kelley takes two things very seriously: his education and his physical fitness. If he’s not studying, he’s playing soccer or lifting weights or working through his modified marathon training program. As a result, he not only has a 4.0 GPA, but he also has a lean and ripped body that has the potential to make me think very unfriendly thoughts about my best friend. If he weren’t my best friend, that is.
“No training today?” I ask.
“Nope. Today is a rest day. Yesterday was 18 miles.”
“Ick.” I shudder, and he laughs at me. I don’t understand why anyone would want to run that far for that long. It’s just...ick.
“Hey, I gotta go.” I love him, but I need some time inside my head to plan for my day at the office. “My Uber just pulled up. Love you.”
“Love you back. Text me this afternoon.”
“Kay. Byeee.”
I put my phone in my clutch and slide into the light blue Prius that’s waiting for me on the curb. My driver is a girl, probably a college student. She gives me an empathetic look and smiles shyly, but other than a soft “good morning,” she lets me ride in silence. I know I look like death, but there’s no judgment in her eyes. I offer her a latte and an extra five bucks on the tip if she takes me through the coffee shop, and she obliges. I drink the whole latte before we even get to my apartment, and I send a little thank you to the Ride Share Goddess for blessing me with an accommodating driver.
My Uber pulls up outside my building, and just before I slide out, I have a thought. It’s the same thought I usually have anytime my Uber driver is a woman, and I take a deep breath to control the anxiety I feel creeping up.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
She startles at the abruptness of my question.
“Clara…?” She’s timid and sheepish, no doubt confused and probably a little suspicious about my sudden interest.
“You ever drive at night, Clara?”
She nods. “Most Fridays and Saturdays. The pay is really good.”
I nod. I figured as much. I do a quick scan of her keychain and the center console and make up my mind quickly, snapping open my clutch and pulling out my hot pink bottle of mace.
“Here,” I say as I hand it over to her. “Keep it on your keychain or in the side pocket of your door. Somewhere easily accessible, okay, Clara?”
She reaches out slowly. “...Thanks?”
“Gotta be safe.” I shrug. “There are a lot of creeps out there.”
“You sure?”
“Of course. I’ve got more,” I reassure her as I nod my head to the apartments. “We women have to look out for each other, right?”
A smile takes over her face. “We definitely do.”
I nod and return her smile. “Have a good day, yeah?” and then I head toward my apartment.
The scent of fresh coffee embraces me when I open the door, and I say a heartfelt thank you to Yesterday Me. Programming the coffee pot before I went out last night was another win. I’m definitely crushing it at life.
Ivy Rivenbark, sultry temptress by night, pragmatic adult by day.
Bailey is asleep, so dropping my shoes at the door and stripping off my clothes as I go, I pour myself a cup of coffee and take it into the shower with me. I’ve got to be at the office at nine for internship hours, and I am never late.
* * *
Pulling open the mirrored glass doors always fills me with pride. There’s something so empowering about working for one of the top general practice law firms in the city, and even though I’m only an intern, I still feel like I belong.
Checking my reflection in the windows of the vestibule, I’m confident in how official I look. My dress slacks and button down are wrinkle-free, my blonde hair is pulled into a sleek and stylish high bun, and my makeup is fresh, feminine, and fierce.
Geoff greets me enthusiastically from the front desk.
“Good morning, you dangerous mountain lion of greatness! Amelia is already in the conference room pulling files.”
I roll my eyes with a smile at another one of his unusual greetings. They’re ridiculous but they always brighten my mornings.
“Mountain lion of greatness is a new one. I like it. It’s agile and graceful but also deadly.” I nod my head toward the conference room. “How long has she been here?”
“About fifteen minutes,” he replies, popping open the side drawer of his desk and pulling out one of the fancy espresso pods he reserves just for us. “You’re going to need this. I heard her mumbling a minute ago and I think today’s tasks are going to be nah-stay.”
He passes the pod to me, and I hug it to my chest as I make my way over to the instant coffee machine in the corner.
“Bless you, Saint Geoffrey. You are my salvation.”
He winks. “Good luck, V.”
Coffee in hand, I stride into the conference room, eyeing Amelia cautiously.
“Fifteen minutes ago, Ames? Really? How hard did you have to hustle to beat me?”
She pops a perfectly arched brow and smirks. “I spilled coffee on my pants, and I’m pretty sure I lost an earring between my front door and my car.”
I flick my eyes to her dress slacks, scanning for a coffee stain. “At least they’re black?”
“Yeah, and it’s French vanilla, so my thighs are gonna smell scrumptious today.” She flips her braids over her shoulders and gives them a little shimmy, and I can’t hold back my giggle.
Amelia is one of the reasons I love it here. She’s a paralegal at the firm and oversees most of my internship tasks. She’s also taking law school classes online and a mom, and I honestly couldn’t have dreamed of a more perfect mentor. She’s hardworking, she’s knowledgeable, and she makes the days more enjoyable. She also shares my passion for law, so her drive fuels mine.
Becoming a lawyer has been the ultimate goal since the summer after ninth grade. I went to Kelley’s house to swim and saw Ms. Pierce coming home from work. She was wearing a sleek pencil skirt and carrying a black leather briefcase; she looked like the most empowered woman I’d ever seen. She was a stark contrast to my own mother, who was always ragged and exhausted and disheveled after pulling doubles at the diner. I didn’t know women could look so powerful.
So professional.
So awake.
After that, I wanted to be just like Ms. Pierce. I wanted to be an empowered, successful woman, and I spent the next three years peppering her with questions about her job. When I wanted an internship to give my law school applications a competitive edge, Pierce, Pierce & Associates was the obvious choice. A paid undergraduate legal internship is a rare find, and I’m not ashamed to say I took full advantage of my connection to the Pierce family.
Their general practice fi
rm employs lawyers who specialize in a variety of fields, providing me with loads of experience-gaining opportunities, and Ms. Pierce happens to be the firm’s prestigious family law attorney, which is the field of law that I’m interested in. It couldn’t be more perfect.
I take one of the files Amelia has stacked on the desk and flip it open, sliding my glasses on so I can better scan the details on the page.
“What’s on the agenda for today?”
“Well, Ms. Pierce said we’re to review and update the Harrison estate account, which is the file you’ve got in your hands, and…” She pauses, and I meet her eyes.
“….and?”
“And…it’s also these files.” Her hands span out like Vanna White over what appears to be a pile of twenty additional file folders.
“Jeebus. That’s a whole forest.”
“I know. They had Geoff print out everything for you to go over. Past tax forms, a list of assets, financial records, his will, insurance policies, et cetera. The whole nine.”
She slides me a fresh legal pad, a tray of Post-it flags, several highlighters in assorted colors, and a stack of file folders.
“It’s a lengthy estate, and Ms. Pierce wants it ironclad because Mr. Harrison received a terminal diagnosis, and he has a feeling his son is going to contest. It’s got the potential to get ugly.”
“Good gracious.” I study the table in front of me, my eyes wide, both overwhelmed and excited to dive into the sea of documents. I’m already mentally organizing my tasks for where and how to begin. Usually, I work with more of the firm’s family practice cases, but I relish any opportunity to gain experience in all fields of law.
