Friends with Benefits

by Amy Brent

  I closed my eyes as my mother smoothed my hair back from my neck. I felt my mother’s soft breath blowing cool streams of air on my skin, and for a moment, my mind relaxed. Gone was the drama and the tears. Gone was the heartache and the sorrow, and in their place was simply a little girl who needed the comfort of her mother after being battered by the big, bad world.

  “He was beautiful, Mom,” I whispered.

  “He was beautiful to you then, too,” Louise said. “I always questioned whether you’d gotten over him. I know you think you’ve fallen back in love with him. But I’m not too sure you ever stopped.”

  “Was it like that for you and Dad?” I asked. “Did you guys ever have those feelings once? Those feeling that just knocked you off your feet and took your breath away? That magnetized you two together, despite what you kept trying to tell yourself was right?”

  “Not by a longshot,” Louise said, giggling. “Your father and I never had that kind of connection. Maybe that’s why he did what he did. I don’t know. But there are two things you need to understand.”

  “What’s that, Mom?”

  “First, I’ll always be grateful to you for figuring out what your father was doing and then bashing me over the head with it. I was so scared of what was going to happen afterward that even when it was right in front of me, I refused to believe it. You were so headstrong and so intelligent at only fifteen years old. I always admired your inner strength.”

  “You deserved better, Mom,” I said. “I was only trying to get you to realize that.”

  “And so do you, darling. When Wes left you before graduation, I held you just like this, if you remember?”

  “I do,” I said.

  “And I’m glad you felt you could come to me again, though I have a slightly different take on him now,” Louise said.

  “I bet you do,” I groaned.

  “No, no, no. Hear me out. Has the boy made some mistakes? Sure. But if any of those rumors were true about his mother, a little boy like that doesn’t come out unscathed. I had a feeling you never really got over him, and I can tell you really like Wes. Even now.”

  “He doesn’t want me, Mom. I came clean to him about everything. About my friend and what I was doing. About how I was posing as this person, even though I wasn’t acting very different. I tried to tell him the only thing different about the real me and the me he’d been experiencing was literally my job title. I…”

  “You what, sweetheart?” Louise asked.

  “I told him I loved him,” I said, whispering.

  “I take it that didn’t go over very well?” she asked.

  My face crinkled up, and I began to sob in my mother’s lap again. No matter how much my mother wanted to take away all the pain I was feeling, I knew she couldn’t. I had to sift through all this, and I couldn’t do it in the same city that was now tainted with memories of him.

  “Everything is so topsy-turvy, Mom.”

  “I know.”

  “What am I going to do?” I asked.

  “If I knew, I would tell you. Part of me is worried about you loving someone like Wes, for many reasons besides what you’ve told me, but I also can’t deny that you really do care for him. He’s touched you in a way I haven’t seen any of your other boyfriends touch you, and that says a lot for someone like you.”

  “Someone like me?” I asked.

  “Yeah. You intentionally close yourself off from people. You pulled away from your father, and at the time, I was willing to accept that. I was angry at him and resentful for what he did to our marriage, but I carry guilt with me every day because you don’t have a relationship with him. It’s why I didn’t let you change your last name back in high school.”

  “I was so angry at you for that,” I said, grinning.

  “I guess that was my way of trying to instill some of him into you without actually having to shove you off to him. I was selfish in that regard, and because of it, you and your father are estranged. I’m so sorry for that, Olivia.”

  “Don’t be,” I said. “I wouldn’t have wanted a relationship with him anyway, after what he did to us. It wasn’t your fault he never came around on the holidays. It wasn’t your fault he didn’t call me on my birthdays. It wasn’t your fault he never initiated contact after he packed up and left.”

  “But it is my fault that I didn’t do everything I could to reach out to him,” she said.

  “No one blames you for that, Mom. Least of all me.”

  “Well, my point is, if I don’t tell you to go after Wes, despite what I currently think and how I currently feel, it would be the second biggest regret of my life. You loved that boy in high school, and it’s obvious you love him now.”

  “He won’t even take my calls, Mom,” I said.

  “Then give him a couple days,” she said. “Stay here. Spend some time with your ol’ Momma. I’ll try to get your mind off things. I’ll feed you lots of food, and then in a couple of days, you can go from there.”

  “I wish I could see him now,” I said.

  “Then, go after him!” she said, laughing. “Conquer the world. Get out from that little cubicle you call an office and venture out into the world. You close yourself off in that office and bury yourself in your work so you don’t have to keep making connections with people who might disappoint you. What your father did to us left a lasting impression, one I’ve watched fester throughout your entire life. You took that seclusion and that unwillingness to open up to another person, and you dragged it into your own personal career.”

  “And you think I should with Wes?” I asked.

  “I think you already have,” she said. “What I’m trying to get at is the fact that it sounds like Wes is doing the same thing, just in a different way.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked as I sat up.

  “Think about it,” she said. “His father was nowhere to be found, and his mother drank and dated more than she raised her own son. So, he goes around tricking women and taking their things and breaking their hearts to prove a point. To prove he can take what he needs without becoming vulnerable. What did he take from your friend?”

  “He maxed out her credit cards and took the cash from her wallet.”

  “Nothing else? Not a social security card to steal her identity or any jewelry he couldn’t pawn?”

  “Mom, what are you getting at?” I asked.

  “What he did wasn’t right. The common sense in me knows that. But if he really wanted to rob these women, truly rob them, he’d take everything, right? Isn’t that how that works? A robber cases a joint when he really wants to take all he can get his hands on?”

  “Yeah, usually,” I said.

  “But that’s not what he was doing. When you’re a child, you look to your parents to provide you with things. But when your parents don’t give you that stuff, if they neglect you like his parents did, then it is possible that he’s trying to do this to these women just to show himself something.”

  “You think he’s doing all this to prove he doesn’t have to be vulnerable to get what he wants?”

  “Maybe he’s taking that money like he wanted to when he was a child. Maybe it wasn’t money back then, but it could be a symbol of many things he wanted. His mother’s love, or his father’s presence. He wasn’t in control of any of that. He wasn’t in control of the basic things he needed. So, he takes these few things that are within arm’s reach, like he wished he could have when he was younger. Only this time, he doesn't have to be hurt by the woman in the process.”

  “Sometimes, I forget you were a Criminal Psychologist,” I said, snickering.

  “You didn’t get your love of figuring out people from your father, that’s for sure,” she said.

  “I want to go after him, Mom. I don’t want to let him go again.”

  “Then don’t, sweetheart. Go after him. Call him until he picks up. Flood his voicemail with explanations until he picks up the phone.”

  “What if he changes his number?” I asked
.

  “None of that is in your control. But you do have some things that are within your control. Use them.”

  “Part of me wants to go back tonight. If I get on the road now, I could get to his place by one-thirty in the morning. He’d be home, right?”

  “Why don’t you stay here? Just for a night. Try calling him, maybe send him a text or two, and then get some rest. If you want to go after him in the morning, I’ll send you on your way with a biscuit and some coffee.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” I said before I threw my arms around her.

  “I love you, Olivia. And I’ll always be here for you. But right now? You need some rest.”

  Chapter 27

  Wesley

  Even speeding ten miles over the speed limit all evening, I didn’t arrive at Louise’s house until almost two in the morning. I pulled up into the driveway of the house I’d been to so many times before, and memories began to flood my system. Memories of holding Olivia’s hand while we rocked on the porch. Memories of kissing her underneath the porch light. Memories of coming in and having dinners with them that consisted of pizza and movies because her mother was a terrible cook. Memories of trying to sneak up into her room just before her mother caught us at the top of the steps.

  I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t realize the porch lights had turned on until I heard the front door open.

  My eyes landed on a figure coming out of the house, and I froze when I saw it was Olivia. Even though she was in her pajamas, it didn’t look as if she’d gone to bed yet. Her beautiful hair still sat wonderfully on her shoulders, and her eyes seemed alert and wary. For a split second, I wasn’t sure what to do. I didn’t know if I should back up and get out of her life or if I should run toward her and wrap her up in my arms.

  So, I decided to take the middle road, and I stepped out of my car.

  I saw the shock roll over Olivia’s features as I started walking toward her. With each step I took, her features became clearer and clearer. Her bloodshot eyes and her puffy nose. Her reddened cheeks and her dried lips. Olivia had been crying to her mother.

  Because of me.

  “Wesley?” she asked.

  “Hey there, Olivia,” I said.

  “What are you doing here?”

  I wasn’t sure how to start this conversation. I wasn’t sure how in the world I could begin to apologize for laughing at her. For accusing her of being anything like my mother. Of laughing at her when the most vulnerable of statements tumbled from her beautiful lips. Even as the skin cracked on top of them, I still wanted to pull her into my body. Even though she looked as if she had just been through hell and back, I still wanted to slowly peel those clothes off her body.

  Only this time, my heart lurched for her as well.

  “I had to find you,” I said.

  “Why?”

  I stepped up onto the porch and slowly made my way to her. I reached my hand out to see if she would recoil, and when she didn’t, I slowly slipped it around her waist. The cool air of her mother’s home hit my face, causing goosebumps to rise upon my neck. My hand fit perfectly in the dip of her back, her curves pressing into me as her body shielded me with warmth.

  “I couldn’t make the same mistake twice,” I said.

  “What mistake?” she asked.

  “The mistake of letting you go. Again. Like I did in high school.”

  “I don’t understand, Wes,” she said.

  “When I left you in high school, you know, before graduation? It was because I was scared. I was so angry with my mother for all the things she was doing, and there I was, falling in love with a girl. A girl who had all the potential to hurt me just like she had, but I found myself not caring.”

  “You—wait, you loved me in high school?” she asked.

  “So much more than I was ever willing to admit. Until now, that is. Olivia, I didn’t know how to love you. I didn’t know what that was supposed to look like. I had people who told me they loved me, and then they put everything else before me. I grew up without a father to show me how to treat a woman, and then I grew up with a mother who showed me how she enjoyed treating alcohol. I had no idea what I was doing, and I was scared.”

  “Wes, why in the world didn’t you talk to me?” she asked.

  “Because I was a stupid, angry boy who had a chip on my shoulder. I felt I had something to prove. I felt I had to prove my strength and unwavering ability to not be fooled by people around me. I left you because I wasn’t strong around you.”

  “Yes, you were, Wes. You were the strongest person I knew in high school.”

  “Not that kind of strength,” I said. “Olivia, I was weak to you. To your eyes and your smile. To your hair and your body. To your voice and your touch. And it scared me and angered me. I was seventeen, and I had no idea how to process any of that. My inability to grow up and talk cost me the one thing that meant the most to me, and I’m not willing to do that again. I’m not willing to let you go again because of my inability to do something, Olive.”

  “What are you saying, Wesley?” she asked.

  “I’m saying that I love you, and that I have no issues with that. Not anymore.”

  I held her gaze for quite some time before her hands began to slowly run up my stomach. I felt her hands grazing up my chest, giving my muscles a light squeeze before she hooked her arms around my body. I watched her lips, seeing her teeth slowly bite down on her lower lip before a grin graced her cheeks.

  “You love me?” she asked.

  “You are, single-handedly, the best thing that has ever happened to me. For years after high school, I did nothing but dream about you. About all the times we shared and the way you used to look at me. And when you popped up at that bar, everything came flooding back. It was like I’d been hit by an eighteen-wheeler, and I couldn’t even breathe. There aren’t enough words in the English language to communicate how much you mean to me. I love you, Olive, and I can’t let you slip from my hands again.”

  Olivia rose up onto her toes before she planted a kiss at the corner of my mouth. I smiled, leaning in to her, trying to capture her lips with mine before she pulled away. I pressed her body closer to mine, wanting to feel every bit of her warmth before she pushed me away, but all she did was utter the phrase I never thought I’d ever hear from her again.

  “I love you, too, Wes.”

  I felt Olivia’s hand clasp my own before she slowly pulled me into the house. I shut the front door behind me, my eyes grazing over her body, and I watched as she slowly turned off all the lights in the house. She placed her hand to her lips, shushing me lightly before she held out her hand. Then, the two of us slowly ventured up the steps.

  I felt my skin beginning to tingle. It was just like the days in high school. The evenings when I came over without her mother’s approval because I had to taste her. We’d tried numerous times to sneak into her room just so I could see her sprawled out on her bed, but her mother always came out of her room just before we could sneak to safety.

  But now, as Olivia was closing the door to her bedroom, all I could do was think about all the times we had failed up until this point.

  Suddenly, a pair of arms wrapped around my waist. I turned around in Olivia’s arms before her lips flew to mine, and I felt something inside me pop. I silenced my groans as Olivia’s hands traveled to my ass, and the moment she backed me up to her bed, we went crashing to the mattress. Olivia pulled back, placing her finger to her lips one last time, but all I did was remove her hand before I placed my lips upon hers.

  My hands ricocheted down her sides, sliding her shirt up as I tried to get to her voluptuous breasts. Olivia’s hands pushed my shorts off, the fabric hitting the floor before her fingertips hooked into the band of my underwear. I peeled her shirt off, watching her tits spring to life, and then I descended my lips down around her pert nipple as she arched into my touch.

  I could tell she was muffling her moans. The way her legs parted for me with ease was something that sho
ok me to my core. My cock was already leaking, trailing wet stains along her sheets. Slowly moving down her body, I worked my lips all over her. My hands grasped the fabric of her pants, pulling them down her legs as my tongue dipped into every crevice her body had to offer.

  But the moment I smelled the scent of her pussy, something inside me snapped.

  Chapter 28

  Olivia

  Wesley’s lips devoured my dripping pussy as my back arched from the bed. He slid two fingers inside of me, crooking them easily as my juices began to slick his skin. I had to clamp my hand down around my mouth just so I could moan a bit because I found it harder and harder to keep my cool. My heels found the strong divots on Wesley’s shoulders as my legs spread farther for him, and within minutes, my body was trembling with my first orgasm.

  “Well, that was easy,” Wesley said, his voice muffled between my legs.

  His mouth released my clit as his fingers continued to work their magic. The pad of his thumb rubbed along my swollen clit as he watched my tits bounce, my body darting every which way as my eyes screwed shut. I reached for a pillow and tossed it over my face, wanting to moan his name but not wanting to wake my mother.

  But a part of me wanted to scream his name out to anyone that would listen.

  “Better keep quiet,” Wesley said. “She might hear us.”