Stupid Love: A Friends to Lovers Romantic Comedy (The Prescotts Book 1)

by Tara Wyatt

  “Mmmhmm,” she said flatly. Working at the reference desk at the 53rd Street branch of the New York Public Library, she got this kind of question on a regular basis. Sometimes, she hoped that she didn’t know the answer just so patrons would learn to manage their expectations a little better. How the hell was she supposed to know what red-covered book this dude read years ago? “Do you remember anything else about it? More detail about the cover, the genre, anything?”

  “It was definitely fiction. And it had big, yellow lettering on the front. Hmm, I wonder if it was more of an orange than a red, now that I think about it.”

  Lauren tucked a strand of hair that had come loose from her bun behind her ear. “Do you remember what genre it was?”

  “I think sci-fi,” he said, scratching his chin.

  Well, crap. She was pretty sure she did know the book he was talking about. “Is it Ready Player One by Ernest Cline?”

  He snapped his fingers and pointed at her. “Yes! That’s the one! Do you have it?”

  She did a quick search on the computer. “It’s not on the shelves here, but we do have other copies in the system. Can I put it on hold for you?”

  “Sure.” He fished out his library card, attempting to flirt with her while she scanned his barcode and placed the hold. When she was finished, she handed his card back to him, not responding to any of his overtures.

  “You’ll get an email when it’s in.”

  He made a big show of checking out her name tag, just above her left breast. “Thank you so much, Lauren.” He walked away, glancing once over his shoulder at her. She fought the urge to make a face.

  “Ugh, what a creep.” Lauren turned to see her friend and co-worker Dorinda—Dori for short—standing there, holding an armful of binders. Her black hair was piled high on top of her head, her enormous glasses sliding down her nose. She set them down in a messy heap on the other end of the reference desk and leaned forward, peering at Lauren’s name tag from just a few inches away. “Lau-ren. Hmm. What an interesting name. Why don’t I buy you a coffee and you can tell me how your parents came up with something so unique?” Dori, a librarian-slash-stand-up-comic and Saturday Night Live hopeful—she’d already auditioned twice in the past three years—had a knack for knowing exactly how to make her laugh.

  Lauren giggled, the tension from the previous interaction dissipating. “Yes, Lauren is such a unique name, so rare in its stunning beauty.”

  Dori made a face at her. “Hey, at least your name isn’t Dorinda Dong, okay? I’d take boring any day. I am literally a fish and a dick.”

  Lauren smiled at her. “But you’re my favorite fish and dick. That counts for something, right?”

  “Sure does, my friend,” said Dori, squooshing Lauren’s cheeks between her palms. “Let me go put away these training binders and then we can get out of here. I’m so glad it’s your birthday because I’ve been wanting to go out for sushi and karaoke for a while. So thanks for designing your birthday celebrations around my cravings. You’re a true friend.”

  Lauren laughed and started logging out of her computer. “I live to please.” She was joking, but also not really joking. She did live to please. Keeping others happy made her happy. Plus she hated conflict. Just the thought of the word was enough to make her break out into hives. She gathered up her notebook and lanyard and rose from her swivel chair.

  “So,” said Dori, falling into step beside her as they walked toward the staff workroom. “Will Theo be joining us tonight?” She stretched out the two syllables of Theo’s name—Theeeeeeeeeeoooooooooohhhhhh—in a teasing singsong.

  “Yep. He’s having dinner with his brothers first, but he’s meeting us at karaoke later.”

  Dori froze, mid-step. “Wait. He has brothers? You mean to tell me that there is more than one guy with those Prescott genes walking around?”

  “He’s got three, actually. And they’re all kind of a mess, so you’d probably do best to stay clear.”

  “But Theo’s not a mess.”

  “Mmmm,” she said, making an I’m not so sure about that sound. “I mean, he’s definitely less of a mess than, say, Sebastian, or Lucian.” She shrugged. “But he’s still kind of a mess.”

  Dori’s eyebrows rose above her glasses. “Really? In what way?”

  “Oh, you know,” said Lauren, setting her notebook down on her half of the L-shaped desk that she shared with another technical assistant. Several empty Starbucks cups sat in the corner, her little collection of chai lattes delivered by Theo over the past couple of weeks. She hung onto them for far too long because he had a habit of leaving her little doodles on them. Her current fave was a cartoony mosquito with the caption I Suck. “Just the crappy childhood creating a dysfunctional view of the adult world kind of way.”

  “Oh. Yeah, that’ll do it.”

  “Yeah. His parents put him and his brothers through the wringer when they were younger, and now he’s super jaded about dating and relationships and all that jazz.”

  Dori made a sad sound. “Too bad. Dude is fine as hell.”

  Lauren chuckled, not saying anything, mostly because she couldn’t disagree with Dori’s assessment of her best friend. Fine as hell pretty much summed it up when it came to Theo. Her stomach did that stupid little flippy thing it had a habit of doing when she thought about him. Not that she had any hopes of anything romantic ever happening between them—she knew that relationships and love were a no-go territory for Theo, and honestly, it was probably for the best that things between them stayed firmly in the “just friends” category. She didn’t want to risk her closest friendship for a relationship that inevitably wouldn’t work out because of Theo’s baggage.

  She’d first met him eleven years ago, when she’d been a freshman at NYU and started dating this really cute senior named Josh. Her relationship with Josh had fizzled before Christmas break, but the easy friendship she’d struck up with his roommate Theo had stuck. Despite her almost immediate crush on Theo, but she’d accepted early on that they were better off as friends given his aversion to relationships. Over the years, they’d grown closer and closer, and now, he was her best friend. Numero uno. Like a brother, really.

  A brother she wanted to hump, but still. Brother-ish, if you conveniently ignored the sexual attraction.

  But ignoring the sexual attraction was easier said than done. God, Theo. That soft, thick blond hair. Those blue eyes. That wide, mischievous smile with those full lips. The neatly groomed scruff that clung to his jaw. And then, there was the rest of him. The muscles. The big hands. The fact that he was six foot four of droolworthy masculine yumminess.

  Fine. As. Hell.

  Also strictly her friend, and totally off limits romantically. Or sexually. Or in any non-platonic way. Which was fine. Fine. Fine fine fine.

  “You’re thinking about how sexy he is right now, aren’t you?” asked Dori, pulling on her denim jacket and then slinging her cross-body bag over her shoulder.

  Lauren blushed a little, but shook her head, busying herself with tidying a pile of already tidy papers on her desk. “No, I’m not.”

  “Uh huh. You’re thinking about Theo with his shirt off and in those beat up Levi’s he has, just the top button undone, playing treasure trail peek-a-boo. Aren’t you?”

  Lauren’s mouth went dry as she pictured exactly what Dori had described. Her stomach gave an answering dip and swirl at the image. “Well, now I am, thanks to you.” She pulled her trench coat on and grabbed both her purse and her guitar case—she’d been busking at lunch, as usual. “Trust me, as sexy as he is, it’s never going to happen for a lot of reasons. Theo doesn’t date or do relationships. I would never want to risk ruining our friendship. Besides, I’m pretty sure he sees me as more like a sister than a chick he’d like to bone.”

  Dori shrugged. “If you say so. I’m going to walk home to change. Meet you at the restaurant, okay?”

  Lauren nodded. “Yeah, sounds good. I’m going to change too, plus I want to put my guitar away.
”

  “Is Aspen coming?” Dori asked, making a little face as she referred to Lauren’s roommate.

  “Maybe to karaoke, but not to sushi. She’s vegan, remember?”

  Dori let out a little laugh and smacked her palm against her forehead. “Right. How could I forget?”

  “It’ll be me, you, Willa, and Brandon for dinner, and then Theo, Kayla, Aiden, and maybe Aspen all joining us for karaoke.” They fell into step as they headed out of the library and out onto West 53rd Street. The mid-September air was cool, but the sun was still warm and felt like heaven on her face. With a wave, she parted ways with Dori and started her twenty-minute walk home to the tiny apartment on West 46th she shared with Aspen. She could’ve taken the F train if she wanted to shave a few minutes off her commute, but she didn’t mind the walk in the beautiful fall weather. Besides, it was a pain hauling her guitar on the subway.

  There was something almost magical about New York City in the fall. The changing leaves, the city’s unwavering enthusiasm for all things Halloween, new museum exhibitions, outdoor movies on a cool night. Even a city as vast and cold as New York felt cozy in the fall. Having grown up in Vermont, she sometimes longed for the quiet coziness of home, but her life was here now. She had her job at the library, and a solid group of friends. Plus the music scene in Montpelier was just slightly lacking in comparison with New York City.

  She hummed to herself as she walked, working out a new melody that had popped into her head that morning in the shower. The music she wrote and performed (and poured her heart, soul, and time into) was mostly folk-tinged pop—or maybe it was more like pop-influenced folk—sort of like Taylor Swift crossed with Joni Mitchell, a dash of Maren Morris, and a hint of Regina Spektor. She’d been writing and performing her own music for nearly fifteen years now and had written well over a hundred songs. She’d played thousands of gigs both as a solo artist and as part of Fiddle of Nowhere, the folk-rock cover band she’d been part of for the past three years.

  Thousands of gigs, hundreds of original songs, two degrees—an arts and science degree in music, followed by a masters’ degree—and exactly zero record contracts. She’d hoped that by thirty, she’d be at least making a living from her music. That if she found the right combination of songwriting and performing, she could cobble something together. But here she was, newly turned twenty-nine, and still working forty-hour weeks at the library to pay the bills. It wasn’t that she didn’t make any money from music. She did. It just wasn’t steady enough to depend on. Some months she made a few thousand dollars. Other months, it was more like a few hundred. And frankly, her landlord didn’t care that she could play a flawless rendition of “Flight of the Bumblebee” on her acoustic guitar, or that she could play almost anything by ear on the piano.

  She rolled her shoulders and tried to physically shake off the frustration building inside her. Today was her birthday, and she was going to have an awesome night with her friends. She didn’t want to start the evening off as Debbie Downer because she officially only had a year left to meet her goal. A lot could happen in a year. A year was so much time.

  Right.

  She let herself into the five-story apartment building where she lived and jogged up to the second floor. Before she’d even reached her front door, the scent of incense invaded her nostrils and she grimaced slightly. She could hear sitar music and what sounded like voices coming from inside the apartment. Great. Aspen was probably having some lengthy conversation with her spirit guide or guardian angel again. Who knew that guardian angels could be so chatty? Then again, they were dead, so who did they really have to talk to?

  Slipping her keys in the lock, she pushed the door open with her shoulder, her guitar case bumping against the worn frame. And right there, in the middle of their tiny living room, was Aspen, naked and covered in oil, riding a man Lauren didn’t know. They moved slowly together, breathing and chanting in what sounded like Sanskrit or some other ancient language.

  Normally, Lauren would’ve been shocked to find her roommate naked and having tantric sex with a strange man, but unfortunately, this wasn’t the first time Lauren had walked in on something like this. And knowing Aspen, it probably wouldn’t be the last.

  “You have a bedroom!” she shouted over her shoulder as she moved past them, trying to block her view with her guitar case, holding it like a shield.

  Aspen paused in her movements and said serenely, “The energy was all wrong in my bedroom and I thought you’d be mad if we used yours.”

  Lauren’s eyes widened. “Oh. My. God.” She practically sprinted to her room, slamming the door behind her. She closed her eyes, trying to push away the image of Aspen and whoever the hell was in her living room. Was there such a thing as brain bleach? Because she could use about a gallon of that right now.

  She set her guitar down in the corner, propped carefully up against the exposed brick wall. Below, police sirens wailed as two cruisers fought their way through Hells Kitchen. Sinking down on her bed, she stared out the window at her view of the entrance to a parking garage across the street. Her room was small but comfortable, with enough space for a double bed, her guitar and her keyboard, a nightstand, and a small computer desk. She’d made it cozy with art on the walls, a couple of plants, warm lighting, and throw blankets and pillows. She always treated herself to fresh flowers from the bodega on the corner every Sunday, not only because having something colorful and alive brightened up the room, but also because it wasn’t like she had anyone else to buy them for her. Currently, the little vase on her desk was filled with a bunch of half-wilted orange and yellow carnations. She loved peonies best, but carnations were much more budget-friendly.

  From out in the living room, a series of long, loud gasping moans vibrated through the thin walls, going on and on and on for what felt like forever.

  Lauren sighed. “Oh yeah, I’m definitely living the dream.”

  3

  Theo stepped inside the noisy karaoke bar, scanning his gaze across the crowded space for Lauren. As usual, her red hair was the first thing he spotted. It fell just past her shoulders in shiny waves, and he watched as she tucked a strand of it behind her ear as she chatted with their mutual friend Brandon. The simple movement made his fingers tingle, itching to repeat it. So he curled his fingers into his palm, tucking them safely away.

  Shimmying his way between the tables, he made his way toward them. “Hey, sorry I’m late,” he said, giving Lauren a hug from behind. She jumped up out of her seat and flung her arms around him. Her warm cinnamon-vanilla scent hit him like a punch in the gut and he hugged her just a little bit tighter, taking the affection he could get. The affection he was allowed. He kissed her on the cheek and then stepped back.

  God, she was so beautiful. He’d noticed it the first time he’d ever laid eyes on her, back when she’d dated his roommate Josh what felt like a lifetime ago. Everything about her was so…so delicate. The bright green eyes, the small upturned nose, the wide smile. She was tall and lithe, with long limbs and graceful hands. A constellation of freckles ran across the bridge of her nose, and not for the first time, he wondered just how many freckles she had.

  His mind bounced back to the summer, when they’d rented a place in the Hamptons with some friends. Lauren had spent most of the weekend in a retro-style black one-piece and not much else. He’d been disappointed that she hadn’t packed a bikini. Disappointed and maybe also a tad relieved because the last thing he’d needed was to be concealing a hard-on in his swim trunks.

  “It’s okay,” she said, sitting back down in her chair at their large table. She kicked an empty one toward him and he sat down, shrugging out of his jacket. “We only got here like ten minutes ago anyway.” She leaned forward, a conspiratorial gleam in her eye. “Wanna know a secret?”

  “Always.” He reached into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out her birthday gift and putting it on the table. “Do you want to open this first?”

  Her eyes landed on the small box wrapped
in light blue paper and she bit her lip, clearly torn. “Okay, I’ll just tell you really fast. One: I ate a lot of sushi. Like, a lot. I don’t want to see another piece of sashimi for a really long time. Two: I also drank a lot of sake and am a little drunk.” She winked at him. “Now you’re up to speed.”

  Around them, the karaoke bar was filling up, the noise of conversation mixing with the ear-splitting rendition of the Spice Girls’ “Wannabe” two college-aged girls were screaming out. Their group was at one of the bigger tables and he waved as Aiden, Lauren’s bandmate from Fiddle of Nowhere, and Willa, her closest friend from university—besides him, anyway—came back to their table with a tray laden with drinks.

  “Whoa, guys,” said Lauren, holding her hands up. “That is a lot of booze.” Then she pulled the tray toward herself. “How come you didn’t get anything for yourselves?” Everyone laughed and Willa made eye contact with Theo, her eyebrow raised. He nodded once. Yeah, he’d look after Lauren tonight. Of course he would.

  “Did they have any kombucha?” asked Aspen from the other end of the table.

  “Uh, no. Sorry.” Aiden shook his head and then looked away and rolled his eyes.

  “Okay, now I want to open this,” said Lauren, pulling the little box toward herself after she’d selected a glass of wine from the booze tray.

  Theo smiled, sitting back in his chair. “Go ahead.”

  He loved giving Lauren gifts. Because he could, yeah, but also because of how she reacted to them. She was like a little kid on Christmas morning and it was the most adorable thing—