by Lauren Layne
“Hey, now,” Lori says with a little laugh. “We all did things we shouldn’t have in college. Slept with people we shouldn’t have—”
“Became friends with someone we shouldn’t have,” I mutter around a bite of my pork.
Parker’s fork clatters to her plate, but she reaches for her glass of wine to cover it, and the place is so noisy, nobody seems to notice.
Except I notice.
Just like I notice the look of hurt on her face and feel instant regret. This fight that we’re having is stupid. I get that. Six solid years of friendship, and I lost my temper all because she thought I didn’t want a girlfriend.
But damn, that had burned.
The way it didn’t even occur to her that I could be a boyfriend.
The way she couldn’t even begin to picture that if I cared for someone, I would treat them like they were my everything.
The way she’d thought I wasn’t good enough.
Sure, I’d been her boy toy for a while there, and that had been more than okay. I’d gone into that situation eyes open, perfectly content to be there.
But until our conversation in her bedroom that last day, I hadn’t realized that she only thought of me as a boy toy.
And it had hurt.
Just like she’s hurt now, by my careless statement about regretting the friends I made in college.
But I’m not feeling all that apologetic just now. Not when Lance’s arm drops around the back of her chair as he starts to tell some boring-ass story about an art show they went to last night.
The only time Parker and I ever went to art shows was to make fun of the art, but, hey, if her boyfriend wants to go…
“So, what are you two doing the rest of the weekend?” Parker asks, putting her elbows on the table and smiling at Lori.
Lori gives me a nervous little glance. “Oh, I don’t know. No plans really. I have my sister’s baby shower tomorrow afternoon, and then—”
“We’re going to Portland City Grill,” I interrupt.
Both Parker and Lori look at me, and it’s tough to tell who’s more surprised.
“We are?” Lori asks.
I give her a slow, seductive smile. “Surprise.”
And then I feel like the biggest asshole because she gives me this beyond-happy smile, and I realize I’ve just done the ultimate dick move of toying with one girl’s emotions just to get a rise out of another girl.
I suspect Parker knows it, too, because she’s no longer looking wounded; she’s looking pissed.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Not only have I given Lori the wrong impression about where our “relationship” is going by claiming to be taking her to one of the nicest restaurants in Portland, but now I’ll have to actually try to get reservations, plus foot the ridiculously expensive bill.
All because I’d been wanting to jog Parker’s memory of our night there, back when we’d been carefree and happy.
Fuck.
I need to regroup.
I can’t think in this crowded, noisy hellhole, so I take the coward’s way out and stand under the pretense of having to go to the bathroom.
Problem is, Parker’s had the exact same thought, and she stands at the exact same time, also announcing that she has to use the restroom.
I start to sit, but Lori touches my hand with a little laugh. “You two can go at the same time. I’m sure Lance and I can manage to make conversation without you.”
Fuck again.
The old Parker and Ben would have had no problem heading toward the restroom at the same time. We wouldn’t have thought a thing about it.
The new Parker and Ben…
I force a smile and avoid Parker’s eyes as I gesture for her to precede me in the direction of the restrooms.
The cramped dining room and the noise of tipsy diners prevents us from having to make conversation, but then we step into the deserted hallway and it’s annoyingly silent.
Still, we say nothing as we walk to the restrooms.
Correction.
Restroom.
Singular.
The tiny restaurant also apparently equates to tiny facilities, which means there’s only one coed bathroom. “You first,” I mutter.
She nods in thanks and brushes past me, but before she can close the door, my palm is on the door and I’m pushing it open, crowding her backward as I follow her in.
I shut the door, leaving us alone in a tiny dark room lit only by a few tiny candles that smell like lavender or some shit.
“What the hell, Ben,” she says, pushing at my shoulders. “I have to pee.”
“You do not,” I snap. “You were trying to escape the table just like I was.”
She says nothing. “I can’t believe you got us into this. Why didn’t you just tell her you didn’t like Italian food?”
“Because everybody likes Italian food. Why didn’t you just tell her that you and I aren’t on good terms?”
“Why didn’t you? You’re her boyfriend.”
I open my mouth to refute this, only to realize that my lack of boyfriend potential is the entire reason for our fight in the first place, and I refuse to give her any ammunition.
“You and Lance seem cozy,” I say snidely. “I take it he hasn’t gotten bored yet? Remembered all the reasons he dumped you in the first place?”
Shit. Too far.
Way too far.
Even if Parker hadn’t gasped in surprise, I would have known I’d crossed a cruel line with that.
I reach for her arms, gently, but she jerks back. Only she can’t, because the stupid bathroom is so small, we’re still chest to chest, both of us angry, both of us hurting.
“I’m sorry,” I say after several moments of strained silence. “That was an asshole thing to say.”
She glances at her feet before crossing her arms. “It’s okay. I know you hate me now.”
My chest tightens. “No. No.”
This time when my hands reach for her, she doesn’t move away, and I gently press my fingers into her upper arms as I shake her, just slightly. “I’m mad, yes, but I don’t hate you, Parks. I could never.”
She still won’t look at me. “You basically told me our friendship was over. All because we had one little fight. That’s not what real friendship is, Ben. You don’t just get to end it because you’re mad at someone.”
You hurt me, I want to say. You’re my best friend. The one who’s supposed to tell me I’d be the best boyfriend in the world and that any girl would be lucky to have me, not the one who laughs outright at the thought that I might need someone to love.
“I’m sorry,” I say again, because I can’t say any of the other stuff.
But it’s not enough. I know the quiet apology isn’t enough to repair the rift between us.
Mostly because I don’t even fully understand what the rift is, and I suspect Parker doesn’t, either.
“You should get out before someone comes and finds us in here together,” she says quietly.
“Yeah.” But I don’t move.
Neither does she.
And then I’m pulling her closer, my hands sliding up her arms.
I cup her face, tilting it up to mine, bringing her lips closer—
Parker turns her head.
“Don’t do this,” she says with a harsh gasp.
My blood feels like it’s turning to ice water in my veins.
Except…
I know she wants it. It’s written all over her face. I know it because I know her. She wants me, and the thought gives me a flare of hope like I’ve never—
“Please, Ben,” she says, her voice small, her eyes pleading. “Please don’t make a cheater out of me.”
Right. Right.
Because she’s with Lance now. Again.
And I’m sort of with Lori.
And then, because I’ve never been able to deny Parker Blanton anything that she wanted, and what she wants is Lance, I release her.
Slowly, though, my fingers
savoring the familiar soft skin.
And then I let her go.
I let her go all the way then, because she’s my best friend.
And because I care way too much to hurt her any more than I already have by keeping her close.
Chapter 27
Parker
So.
Ben and Lori broke up.
If you could even call what they had being together.
“It doesn’t even make sense,” Lori is saying, tapping her pen furiously against her notebook as she sits next to me in the conference room. “We didn’t even…”
She glances around at the still mostly empty room.
“You know.”
I try to ignore the thrill that this news gives me.
Ben and Lori never slept together.
It shouldn’t matter to me, but it matters so damn much I can barely breathe.
“Maybe because he respects you more than all those other girls,” I say kindly. “Knows that you deserve more than wham bam thank you ma’am.”
Her pen taps even faster. “But if that’s true, then why did he end it? Like, he didn’t see me as the good-time girl or the long-term girl.”
I purse my lips. “Tell me again what he said, exactly.”
She gives me a strange look. “I’ve told you like two times already. Honestly, you’re supposed to be the one doing the talking. He’s your BFF. Explain him to me!”
I hesitate. I’ve yet to tell Lori that Ben and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms, and I’m a little surprised she hasn’t seemed to pick up on this. Neither has Lance. It makes no sense to me. I’ve never felt more alone, more lost, and two of the people closest to me don’t even notice.
And the person who’s supposed to be closest to me—my best friend—isn’t even kind of my friend anymore.
“He just said I deserved more,” Lori says with a shrug, after it becomes obvious that I have nothing to add to the conversation.
“I don’t even know what that means,” she continues. “More what? Then he started talking about his job, and his family, and something about how his older brother just got some sort of public service award that he’ll never get, and he’s saying all of this, and all I can think is, wait, so I’m not even going to get laid?”
Lori is sitting to my right, and a dramatic sigh comes from my left. We both turn to give an irritated look to Eryn.
Too late, I realize that while our conversation started as a whisper, it got increasingly louder as Lori got more and more upset.
Eryn confirms that she overheard everything with a snide remark. “You do know there are better places to talk about your love life than the conference room?”
Lori lifts a finger, and I can tell she’s getting ready to go all diva, but I gently push her hand down. “Eavesdrop much?” I ask Eryn.
She doesn’t look even remotely sheepish as she turns to face us more fully.
Eryn gives a quick glance around to ensure our boss still hasn’t shown up, and that the only two other people in the room are at the far opposite end of the enormous conference table, one talking on her phone, the other playing what seems to be Words with Friends.
“You guys are talking about Ben Olsen, right? Parker’s bestie?”
Neither Lori nor I confirm, but she keeps prattling on anyway. “It’s so obvious what’s going on with him. Inferiority complex.”
I scoff. “You’ve met him, what, like, five times at company functions?”
“Yes. And all the times he’s tagged along as your plus-one at team happy hours, or whatever. I have to do something while you guys are all ignoring me, so I watch.”
I feel a little sting of guilt. Eryn’s so flipping annoying that it’s never really occurred to me that maybe part of the reason she’s so obnoxious is because she’s always on the outside.
I wonder which comes first…someone being left out in the cold because they’re annoying, or someone becoming annoying because they’re left out.
“Look, you said he just got promoted, right?” Eryn asks.
Lori’s eyes bug out. “Exactly how often do you eavesdrop?”
Eryn waves at this. “Oh, all the time. You guys talk super loud, and keep in mind our cubicle walls only come up to boob level. Not exactly soundproof. Anyway, so Ben’s recently been promoted but refuses to tell anyone about it, which means he thinks he doesn’t deserve it. He also has, like, an endless string of bimbos, and then he finds someone he thinks is nice”—Eryn gives a skeptical once-over of Lori here—“and he dumps her because she deserves more?”
I stare at her, my mind racing.
Eryn gives one last snotty little shrug. “Like I said. Inferiority complex. The guy thinks he’s no good at anything—that he doesn’t deserve better.”
Lori starts to lay into Eryn about how she doesn’t know crap and how she should get her own life, but I sit back in my chair, taking in everything Eryn’s just said.
Because while Lori’s right—Eryn doesn’t know Ben—I think she might actually be right about this.
Oh my God.
Lori and Eryn’s catfight is interrupted by the appearance of our boss, and I try to focus on the meeting. I really do.
But I keep hearing Eryn’s words over and over. He thinks he’s no good at anything—that he doesn’t deserve better.
Suddenly I’m replaying everything.
The way he denied deserving that damn promotion.
The way he refused to tell anyone about it.
I replay the way he clams up every time he has to go home to visit his all-star family.
The way he plays down everything important about himself, and instead jokes only about his Call of Duty skills or his prowess in the bedroom.
And then, worst of all, I replay the fight we had the day before I moved out.
The one where I’d all but laughed out loud at the thought that he could actually be somebody’s boyfriend.
My reaction had been borne out of shock—maybe even jealousy—but what if Ben saw it differently?
What if he thinks I think that he’s not capable of being a good boyfriend?
What if he thinks I think that nobody would want to date him?
The thought makes my heart hurt, because as at odds as we are right now, I know that Ben cares what I think, just like I care what he thinks.
I am—I was—important to him, and I’d all but told him he was good for nothing more than a roll in the hay.
And this thing with Lori…
Does he think he’s not good enough for her?
I start to get angry the more that I think about it, because Ben is good enough for anybody.
Ben is the freaking best.
But just as I start to get really good and fired up about this, I deflate.
Once upon a time, I could have been his champion. The one who’d go find him right this second and give an animated monologue about how he was being an idiot and that any girl would be more than lucky to have him love her.
I could have done that once. But not now. Because I’m too afraid that I’ll slip up. Say something I shouldn’t.
Something like I want to be that girl.
Chapter 28
Ben
Turns out, I kind of like living alone.
John didn’t work out as a roommate. His landlord freaked at the thought of him moving out, so he gave John a killer deal to stay at his old place.
Which means that I’m still on the hunt for a new roommate, but I’m not in a hurry.
Parker rather decently volunteered to pay two months of her share of the rent, given the short notice of her move. Plus, the recent promotion at work came with a nice boost in salary.
For the first time ever, money’s really not an issue. It feels very…adult.
Of course, the extra income didn’t take any of the pain out of dropping my credit card at Portland City Grill that night with Lori.
Not that the meal with Lori had been unpleasant.
It had been fine.
/> But that was the night it hit me: Lori deserved more than fine.
She was a nice girl who deserved more than a guy who’d really agreed to date her only to prove a point to a friend.
And that’s the real kicker.
I’d said yes to Lori mainly to prove Parker wrong, only to belatedly realize that Parker didn’t give a shit one way or another who I dated, or even if I dated.
Parker had moved on. And moved out.
“Wanna go out?” This from John, who, while not my roommate, has been spending a fair amount of time over at my place since my TV’s bigger.
I glance at the clock. It’s eight o’clock on Saturday, and I want nothing more than to stay exactly where I am, vegged out on my couch, contemplating whether or not I want pepperoni or sausage on my pizza.
And that’s when it hits me. I need to go out. Need to get out of this weird funk.
I need to get fucking laid.
I haven’t touched a girl since that night in Cannon Beach with Parker—the one that I attached way too much importance to and got burned for it.
I swing my legs off the coffee table. “Yeah,” I tell John. “Let’s go out.”
An hour later, I’m right back in my element. And pardon the cliché, but picking up girls is kind of like riding a bike. It’s coming right back to me.
If I’m reading the vibes right—and I usually do—by the end of the night, I’ll have my pick of two cute blondes, a gorgeous Latina, or a pretty brunette who I pretty quickly rule out because she looks too much like Parker.
Parker, whom I haven’t spoken to since that night in the restaurant.
I’ve seen her once or twice. We were in the same line at Starbucks the other day, and I’m completely ashamed to admit that I pretended not to see her.
Except I’m not that ashamed, because I’m pretty sure she did the same thing.
“Yo! Olsen!” I turn around and my smile slips a little when I see who’s called my name.
“Hey! Lori!” It’s been about a week since I gently suggested that things weren’t working out, and although she took it like a champ, it’s never exactly fun being confronted with an ex, even though I don’t know that Lori and I were ever serious enough to warrant the ex label.
