Going for Broke: Oakland Hills Friends to Lovers Romantic Comedy (Friends with Benefits)

by Gretchen Galway

  She joined him in the kitchen wearing her own shirt again, her cheeks pink, her brown hair loose and mussed, her eyes warm.

  As he sat her at the chair next to him, she glanced up, just a glance, and smiled into his eyes for a quick moment before reaching for her glass. He froze, feeling his heart squeeze in his chest like a peach caught in a cast-iron bench vise.

  “This looks amazing,” she said, audibly inhaling as she looked into the half-dozen containers one by one. “Where’s yours?”

  When he didn’t laugh, she turned to look at him.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  The handle on the vice turned another ninety degrees. He managed to smile at her.

  “Nothing,” he said lightly, kissing her on the forehead. “Let’s eat.”

  Billie woke up in the dark with her cheek pressed against Ian’s chest. In fact, from the sticky feel under her face, she was pretty sure she’d been drooling on it in her sleep.

  How appropriate. He was delicious.

  Wiping her lips with the back of her hand, and using the corner of the bedsheet to delicately pat his damp chest hair, she squinted at the clock near the bed. 3:41. A siren wailed in the distance, fading as it passed.

  “Morning,” Ian said.

  She dropped the sheet, startled by his deep voice. “I thought you were asleep.”

  “You were drooling over me. I thought I might get lucky.”

  “Actually,” she said, “I was drooling on you. There’s a difference.”

  “Now you tell me.” He reached down and pulled her on top of him, his powerful arms lifting her easily before his hands began roving over her body again.

  Drowsy, she bumped her chin against his jaw, kissed it to make it better, found his mouth there instead, and spent the next few minutes making out while she was half-asleep. After dinner, they’d made love again, longer and slower than they had the first time, and she’d only fallen asleep a couple of hours ago. In other words, she was tired, and even his kisses couldn’t keep her awake anymore.

  He pulled the sheet, which had fallen to one side, over her shoulders, then caressed her through the thin fabric. Lying on top of him made her a little uncomfortable, in part because her breasts were large and round and tilted her sideways, ruining her balance, and also because she could hear the hitch in his breathing from supporting her weight. But she decided he’d inform her if he was dying, and went limp.

  “I have to go,” he said right as she was drifting off into a very nice dream about him French-kissing her over a plate of tandoori chicken.

  No, she was just remembering something that had actually happened. She knew what her favorite dish at an Indian restaurant was going to be from now on.

  Until everything crashed and burned, that is, and her heart was broken and Jane refused to talk to her again. Then she’d have to order something like the spinach dish that tasted good but looked like baby poo.

  “Your sister is coming first thing in the morning, isn’t she?” he asked.

  Chapter 28

  With a groan, Billie rolled off Ian’s chest, careful not to unman him as she did so, and flopped onto her back at his side. The bed didn’t have room for both of them, and her right butt cheek hung off the edge of the mattress.

  It was best for him to go home, if just so they could get some sleep.

  “Yeah, she said she’d be here at eight.” She felt her butt cheek slip off another inch. “I’m not sure if she’s kidding.”

  “Probably shouldn’t risk it,” he said.

  As if they hadn’t risked it already. As if they could ever go back to the way they were before.

  “Probably shouldn’t.” She tried to roll gracefully out of the bed, instead falling onto her hands and knees with her big beautiful butt in the air and a stray fragment of plywood embedded in her kneecap.

  He must’ve heard her pained intake of breath, because he climbed out and knelt beside her. “What happened?”

  “Just a splinter.” She pinched it between her fingernails and plucked it out. “It’ll be nice when the floors are finished.”

  “Just say the word,” he said.

  “Word.”

  Chuckling, he lifted her with him to their feet. “I’ll call the contractor.”

  She realized then she’d gotten carried away. “No, wait. I’ll need to talk to Jane. We’re going to make a budget. We can’t afford to do everything at once.”

  “Billie,” he said, stroking the hair away from her face. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

  It was dark and his hands felt good, but she came wide awake. “Just because I slept with you doesn’t mean you’re going to take over my life.”

  He dropped his hands and took a step back. She suddenly felt the chill in the room. It was still February, and the night was cold.

  Maybe her tone had been sharper than she’d intended. Rubbing her upper arms, she said, “I mean, I can’t take your money.”

  “My money.” He said it as if the words tasted bad.

  “I’d feel weird about it.”

  “I’m not offering because we slept together,” he said. “You’ve got to know that.”

  She did. She knew. “It doesn’t really matter what I think. What would I tell Jane?”

  “I could talk to her,” he said. “We’re old friends. Maybe she wouldn’t have a problem with it. She’s cool with me doing the work, which actually costs me more than paying someone else to do it. Lost hours at the office add up. She’ll see the logic of it.”

  The reminder of what he was giving them, time or money, didn’t make her feel better. “But I won’t.”

  In the darkness, she thought she felt him smile. “No, you’re not as logical.”

  She didn’t want him talking to Jane. It was bad enough they’d—

  Facing her sister in a few hours wasn’t going to be easy. “Are you going to leave or what? I’m naked and I’m freezing.”

  “I’m finding it difficult to leave,” he said, cupping her left breast and sucking the nipple into his mouth. Delicious sensations shot down her belly and her body informed her she was ready for more lovemaking in spite of her exhaustion.

  In the end, he was the one to break away. After a final caress and suckle, he straightened, kissed her on the lips, and tried to guide her back down to the bed. “Sleep. Don’t see me to the door.”

  She wiggled past him and bent over to get the quilt. Wrapping it around her shoulders, she moved to the doorway, stepping lightly to avoid any other shrapnel. “I’ll need to lock up after you.”

  They were both probably remembering the disagreement about the keys. This time, though, he didn’t argue. “Of course. Make sure you turn the deadbolt,” he said before he put on his shoes and left her to sleep the rest of the night alone.

  But Jane didn’t show up at eight. It was pushing noon when Billie, going through a box of papers in the second bedroom as she sipped her third mug that morning of strong black tea, heard the front door open.

  Billie had been up and ready for painting for three hours now and was irritated with Jane for not coming earlier. She’d ignored Billie’s texts, too. These were precious hours she could’ve been sleeping.

  She finished her tea and looked into the empty cup. No, she probably wouldn’t have been sleeping. Since Ian had left, the slightest noise or chill or bump in the mattress had kept her awake, worrying about her sister, her job, her life in general.

  She’d done it again. Given in to lust. But this time she’d jumped into bed with a man whose life was intertwined with her family, a person she’d always appreciated having as a friend because he was smart, interesting, and helpful.

  Helpful. Ugh. He’d offered to pay for everything. He was already putting in time and sweat, roping in minions with promises of priceless investment advice, and acting as general contractor, just because he wanted to.

  And she didn’t know what they’d do without him. She’d probably still be sleeping in the kitchen on a camp mattr
ess, the other rooms filled with garbage and cat litter, the floor encased in rotting carpet, and with all the stress at work, she’d probably be on the verge of giving up the house and finding a new apartment. In New Hampshire.

  Was she using him? Maybe she was no better than her ex-boyfriend. Worse if you factored in the traitorous sister element. A lowering thought. She hadn’t thought she could get any lower unless she dug a hole in the ground.

  But she’d promised Ian she wouldn’t regret it. And she didn’t. Once he’d kissed her, it had been inevitable. If she was honest with herself, the only thing keeping them apart was his lack of interest. She’d always—not consciously, but down there in the plumbing, so to speak—she’d wanted him. To her, he’d always be the smartest, kindest, best-looking, most talented guy she’d ever known personally. Impressions from adolescence could last a lifetime. She was like a baby duck, and he’d imprinted on her at a critical moment in development.

  “Billie?” Jane’s voice reached her from the hall.

  “Back here.” She dug her hand into the box and pulled out an old newspaper clipping of a Cathy cartoon that joked about hoarding boxes of old papers. It was very meta.

  “Hey,” Jane said.

  Something about her voice made Billie jerk around. When she saw her sister, she dropped the cartoon and bolted to her feet. “What happened?”

  Jane hadn’t brushed her hair. Neither a swipe of mascara nor dab of lip gloss enhanced her features. And she wore yoga pants and a hoodie, which for her was like Billie wearing fishnet hot pants and a bra with nipple tassels: she might like to wear them now and then, but not out of the house.

  Did she know? Billie’s pulse kicked up a notch. She was stupid to think she could hide anything from her sister, and a terrible person for even trying.

  It was good Jane knew. They shouldn’t keep secrets from each other. Was hot sex more important than family? Of course not. Billie had finally gone too far. This wasn’t flunking algebra for the third time. This was her relationship with her sister.

  “Are you all right?” Billie asked, twining her hands together in front of her.

  Jane sighed. “Ask Mom. She’ll tell you.”

  Chapter 29

  Billie’s stomach turned inside out. “Mom?” This was the price of sleeping with the son of her mother’s best friend. “How did she know?” Billie whispered, afraid she might vomit.

  “I’m sorry, I should’ve told you first,” Jane said, rubbing her face with both hands. She stayed there for a moment, a classic posture of grief. Then she looked up. “But I knew you’d always hated Andrew. I wasn’t ready to hear you be happy it was over.”

  Jane’s words flowed over Billie like cold rain on a grass fire.

  Andrew. She was talking about Andrew.

  Thank God. She felt the tension leaving her body. Her heartbeat began to slow down.

  But her relief only proved to her again what a terrible person she was.

  “I moved out last night and drove up to Mom’s,” Jane continued. “This house isn’t ready for more clutter. I managed to fit everything except my furniture into the van. I’m going back for that today.”

  “You always were a minimalist.”

  “Thus the minivan,” Jane said, managing a weak smile.

  It was an old joke. Jane didn’t have many possessions, even before she’d read that Japanese book about getting rid of things that didn’t give you continuous multiple orgasms. Yet in spite of this, Jane, who wasn’t married and had no children, didn’t even have a bike or a dog or a Costco membership, had purchased a vehicle that seated eight people. It turned out she didn’t like not having things as much as she liked having lots of empty space around her.

  “Sorry I didn’t text you back,” Jane said.

  “It’s OK. Of course it’s OK.” Billie spread her arms wide and pulled her sister into a hug.

  Her stomach was twisting in circles, over and over. She felt sick.

  “We haven’t lived together since high school,” Jane said. “This should be fun.”

  Her stomach reached out and invited her intestines to join the dance. “You’re moving in here?”

  “Where else would I go? It’s my house too, right?” Jane frowned. “What’s the matter?”

  Billie released her to focus on keeping her breakfast down. Since she’d vowed to have no regrets, she’d been looking forward to sleeping with Ian again. Although, to her credit, she had planned on feeling bad about it afterward.

  “Let’s sit down,” Billie said. “Have you had lunch? You want some tea?”

  “If you’re worried about where I’m going to sleep, relax. I’ve found two guys and a truck who will have my bed here this afternoon.”

  “Do you mind if we go into the kitchen?” Billie needed to do something with her hands.

  In a few minutes, the kettle was on the stove—Jane had fired up the coffeemaker for herself—and Billie came to a decision.

  They’d have to talk about Ian. Not everything, but a few key parts.

  Her dirty mind flew to several of her favorite key parts; she told her mind to get a grip.

  “Listen, Jane—” she began.

  “I’ve got to say, I thought you’d be a lot more cheerful about this. You hated Andrew.”

  “You hated Andrew.”

  Jane’s chin lifted an inch. “I did not.”

  “Please. You were always telling me stories about him being controlling and cold and angry about stupid stuff, and you didn’t even like the way he smelled.”

  “That was just his deodorant,” Jane said.

  “But you hated it, and he refused to change. What kind of guy won’t even change his deodorant for the woman he loves?”

  Jane walked over to the coffeemaker, her posture tense. “That’s just it, isn’t it?” Her voice was tight and high-pitched. After she cleared her throat, she turned around, lifting her mug to her mouth. “He didn’t. Love me, that is.”

  “Of course he loved you,” Billie said, quickly and fiercely.

  Jane’s eyes widened in surprise. “What?”

  “He did. He was a pain in the ass, but at least he knew you were the best thing that had ever happened to him.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Sure I do,” Billie said. “Because he told me. In his own annoying way.” His exact words had been, She’s the first person I’ve ever lived with voluntarily.

  “What are trying to do? Do you want me to make up with him?” Jane demanded.

  Was she?

  Oh, this was turning into such a mess.

  “No, you should’ve broken up with him a long time ago,” Billie said with a sigh. She poured the water over her tea leaves, inhaled the soothing jasmine scent that wafted up with the steam. “But for the right reasons. You shouldn’t spend the rest of your life thinking he didn’t care about you when he did care for you in his own emotionally constipated way.”

  Jane slumped into a chair. “That almost makes it hard to leave him.”

  This got them to the edge of the cliff of what they really needed to talk about. Billie sat next to her, her mug in both hands, its heat and familiar shape giving her strength. “Does this have anything to do with seeing Ian again?”

  Jane didn’t speak. The silence swelled between them, making Billie feel as if they were now sitting on opposite sides of the room instead of two feet apart.

  “No,” Jane said finally.

  And then the silence returned.

  “You don’t sound sure,” Billie said.

  Another pause. “I’m sure.”

  This was worse than she’d feared. She’d expected Jane to deny it passionately right away. Be furious, in fact, with Billie for suggesting it.

  “You keep hesitating,” Billie said.

  “I’m just thinking, that’s all.”

  “But if you have to think about it—”

  “I don’t have to think about it!” Jane got up and went over to pour more coffee into her cup, even thou
gh she had only taken a sip.

  At that moment, Billie knew she couldn’t sleep with Ian again. The thought made her feel hollow, like an empty IKEA warehouse. And cold, the kind of cold that tea couldn’t touch.

  She tried to tell herself it was just the lack of sleep, the sex hangover, the dread of returning to work tomorrow, but her eyes began to tingle.

  Ridiculous. Crazy. Stupid. She shifted in her seat and pretended to brush her hair back, when really she was wiping a betraying tear off her cheek.

  “Oh, Billie, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.” Jane’s arms came around her from the back. “I’m just such a mess. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

  Her apology only made Billie feel worse. More tears came. Sniffing, she fought them off. “I have to tell you something.”

  Chapter 30

  Billie felt the calm that she imagined would precede any suicidal but courageous act. Turning in her seat, she pulled Jane down into the other chair and clasped her hands. “You need to know something before you move in with me.” She took a deep breath, realizing she could be bigger than that. “And if you want me to move out, I’ll understand.”

  “Oh my God,” Jane said. “You slept with Andrew.”

  Billie recoiled. “Ew, no!” she cried, making a face. “I could never do that.”

  Jane’s eyes narrowed. “Thanks so much for that comment on my taste.”

  “I only mean—Andrew—me—come on, that’s just—” Billie stopped before she dug the hole any deeper.

  “Well, that is some comfort, I suppose. You’re acting so strange.”

  “It’s…” Billie grasped at the deadly courage again. “It’s about… Ian.”

  With a loud exhale, Jane rolled her eyes. “Him again.”

  “I don’t think it’s really a coincidence you broke up with your boyfriend just a few days after you saw Ian Cooper.”

  Jane shook her head. “I’ve seen him lots of times over the years. Unfortunately.”