Friendzoned (The Busy Bean)

by Rachel Blaufeld

  Ashamed of myself, I swallowed the slightest bit of regret. I’d made her feel bad, and who was I to judge?

  But I couldn’t help myself. This wasn’t how I pictured Murphy living her life. It was part of the reason I never allowed myself to think about having or keeping her. I’d always envisioned her living in a penthouse apartment, dressed in the finest clothes, dripping with expensive jewelry—something I firmly believed she wanted. It was a future I never imagined I’d be able to provide for her. Who knew I’d end up like I did?

  I didn’t have time to wallow in all that past shit because Murphy whirled and stomped back toward the duplex, slamming her fist into one of the doors, the sound echoing all around us.

  As she banged on the door again, I waited for her to look up at me. “Stop avoiding me,” I yelled through the rain, my hair soaked and my shirt dripping.

  “What?” she barked as she turned toward me.

  “What in God’s green earth are you doing?” I sounded like my mom, but I didn’t care. Some caveman instinct had taken over my body, and I needed to take care of this woman.

  “Ben, listen. I know you think I’m fragile and spoiled, but I’m not. At least, not anymore. I can handle this myself. I locked my keys in the car, and I just need to get a hanger from my neighbor so I can open the car door.”

  “What?”

  “My neighbor, she’s a nursing student. She’s probably asleep, but I need a hanger to open the car door.”

  “This is the craziest thing I ever heard.”

  Murphy crossed her arms in front of her, tightening her soaked blouse against her more than hard nipples. My eyes did their own thing as they scanned her body, landing right there.

  “My eyes are up here, Ben,” Murphy spat at me.

  “Yes, yes, I know. I’m trying to figure out how you know how to break into a locked car while stuck outside in a summer storm. I couldn’t even dream up something this crazy.”

  She turned and knocked again on the door I’d come to know was her neighbor’s, then whirled back around. “I’ll let you in on another secret. The car is old, and it locks with the keys inside it. My key to the apartment is on the ring too, and it’s pouring down rain and I’m on a lonely, winding road in Vermont. Who the hell is going to help me?”

  “Me?” I asked foolishly.

  Murphy rolled her eyes. “Ben, this isn’t the first time my idiot self has done this. So, yeah, I know how to open the door. A trucker taught me at a rest stop on my drive up here.”

  “Wait. You let a stranger help you, but you won’t let me. A trucker?”

  “Yes, a trucker. Now go away.” Without another word, she spun around. The rain continued to pelt us as she banged her fist against her neighbor’s door.

  This woman was so fucking stubborn, not to mention confusing the hell out of me. She went from debutante to downright independent I am woman, hear me roar in the blink of an eye. At least, in my mind.

  Knowing she wouldn’t let me help, I went back to my car and decided to wait. I was on call, but my phone was quiet. I glanced at the radar and saw this storm should be passing quickly.

  For the first time in my life, my fingers itched to google someone. Obviously, the internet held some of Murphy’s secrets, judging by her earlier reaction to my mentioning Google, but I didn’t want to invade her privacy. I hated when patients or other doctors googled me and came in with preconceived notions about me and what else I did with my time.

  It was actually somewhat reassuring that Murphy didn’t want much to do with me. Maybe it meant she hadn’t googled me. If she had, surely I’d be more acceptable to her—and her family—with my small windfall. Another reason that I hated Google.

  I hadn’t set out to make big money. In the beginning, I was coding apps while I was in college for chump change, but then I realized how I could help my parents.

  Deep in thought, it wasn’t until I heard a clanking noise that I realized the storm had let up and Murphy was outside her car, scraping the shit out of her door with a coat hanger.

  “Murphy, please, let me do it,” I yelled, hopping out of my Jeep.

  “No, Ben. Go away. I told you to go away.”

  “You’re infuriating.”

  At that moment, I couldn’t even stand myself. I despised Murphy for what she did to my emotions at Pressman after I carried a torch for her for years. And I was intrigued by this new version of her, yet my heart wouldn’t let go of how the old version had broken my heart.

  “Please, go,” she said while trying to maneuver the hanger to open the door. Her hand slipped and the hanger fell.

  Before she could get to it, I’d snatched it up. “Murph, move over. Let me get it, so we can both go home and get dry.”

  Christ, even my sister calls me to help her with these types of crazy things.

  Frustrated, Murphy crossed her arms in front of her, looking formidable.

  I forced myself not to look at her tits, but I couldn’t help the smile spreading across my face. The new Murphy was a live wire . . . a challenge in all the best ways. And she didn’t know I was independently wealthy (that’s what my advisor told me, anyhow). At least, I didn’t think so. The door to the car popped open, and she rushed in front of me to grab the keys from the ignition.

  “Listen,” she said, standing next to the car. “I know you think you know me, but you don’t. Maybe you knew me back then, at school, but I’m different now.”

  I’ll say.

  “Stop smirking,” she said, looking like she really wanted to stomp her foot.

  “Why are you different? What happened? Tell me.”

  I stood to meet her eye-to-eye, although at six-foot-three, I had about eight inches on her and still had to dip my head to meet her eyes. With her red hair darkened and curled by the rain, her damp shirt sticking to her skin and her makeup mostly wiped off, she looked gorgeous.

  “You want to do this now?” she said, glaring at me. “On the side of a country road with another storm about to roll in?”

  “I checked the radar. We’re good.”

  “Ugh.” She turned her back on me, taking deep breaths while facing the other way. Then as quickly as she’d turned, she whirled back around.

  We were so close I could feel her tiny huffs of breath. I wanted to gather her close in my arms, but I didn’t think that would go over well. And I was still holding that stupid hanger.

  “Look,” she said harshly, “I know I wasn’t nice or fair to you at Pressman. I used you to help me, to tutor me, you know that, right? Not just in science, but in life too. Later, when I was sure you liked me and would take me to prom, I used you then too. I wanted to make my jerky ex, Burnett, jealous. It wasn’t a kind thing for me to do. If I’m honest, I saw you as expendable. You should hate me. So, why are you standing here?”

  I took one small step forward, and then another. Braving Murphy’s wrath, I brought my hand to her cheek and smoothed a wet ringlet of hair behind her ear before dropping my hand.

  “Murph, I’m standing here because you’re you. Every now and then back at school, I’d see something real, get a quick peek at the true you. Inside this debutante who’d been groomed to act like a robot was a real person. A sweet soul. And as long as we’re being honest, I thought of myself as expendable back then too. I should’ve stayed home and graduated from the local high school. Pressman didn’t make me feel good about myself, but you did. I liked helping you.”

  “But I used you,” she said, emotion choking her words as I stared into her eyes. She let out a long breath but didn’t move.

  “And I used you,” I said softly. “I had no one at Pressman. At least you let me hang around sometimes.”

  Blinking hard, she said, “I’m not that way anymore. I’m not a mean girl. At least, I try not to be.”

  Although the rain had stopped, mist hung in the air, causing Murphy’s hair to curl and her eyelashes to hold tiny droplets. I wanted to pull her close, but resisted.

  “I can tell you’r
e not, although you never really were a mean girl. I always thought that was more of an act. But really, Murph, what happened to you?”

  The last question was a whisper. This Murphy was like an injured animal, cowering in a corner, but if I got too close, her claws would come out.

  Not meeting my eyes, she huffed out a breath. “Let’s just move on. We solved the problem, and I need to get inside and change out of these wet clothes, and so do you. We don’t need to catch a cold. By the way, don’t you have patients who need you?”

  I took another step closer until we were almost nose to nose. She smelled like huckleberry, maybe her lotion or shampoo, I wasn’t sure which. “I’m going to let you off the hook so you can change, but then we’re going to get some dinner.”

  Leaning closer, I pressed a chaste kiss on her mouth. It wasn’t long or sensual, but full of promise on my part, and her eyes widened.

  “I’ve wanted to do that since prom night,” I said low, “but I’m pretty certain I didn’t have a chance before I started barfing, let alone after.”

  “Ben, please. Not now.” She stole the hanger from me and stepped back. Rubbing the moisture off her hand on her shorts, she tried to walk away, but I reached out for her arm to keep her close.

  Despite her best efforts to twist out of my grasp, I held tight. “Dinner?”

  She nodded, and I let her go. I wasn’t really holding her against her will. The keys fell from her hand and she bent to get them, her ass in the air. I swallowed as I took a quick peek, and then bent down to snag the keys for her.

  Handing them over, I said, “One sec.”

  She could tell me over dinner how she went from riches to rags, but right now I wanted to get Murphy inside and dry. And that wasn’t the doctor in me wanting to take care of her.

  When it came to Murphy Landon, I turned into a raging caveman.

  6

  Murphy

  “What in the actual freakity-freak is happening?” I asked myself, risking a quick peek in front of me.

  Yep, Ben was walking toward his late-model Jeep, clearly decked out with all the state-of-the-art bells and whistles, while I stood next to my very used Toyota. My car was on its last breath, and without a second job, I couldn’t afford anything else. Not to mention this was the second time I’d locked my keys inside it.

  If I hadn’t been so desperate for help on my journey here to Vermont, I would have been worried about Ralph-the-trucker raping or kidnapping me. Luckily, he turned out to be a good guy with a wife and kids at home, and had driven for the last ten years for King Arthur Flour. He’d seen me pacing next to my car like Ben had and asked if he could help. Showing me a picture of his kids, he swore he was a good guy. After demonstrating how to open the door with a hanger, he gave me his number in case I needed somewhere to go for Christmas.

  “Shit,” I muttered to myself as Ben approached me again, shaking his head, presumably at my self-chatter.

  He’d kissed me. On a wet Vermont road. Something I never thought I’d do, but strangely wanted to do a lot more of.

  Watching Ben really take in the run-down house in front of him, I could have lied to myself and said he was checking for storms, but he wasn’t. My place left a lot to be desired. A long time ago, it must have been nicer, but now it was home to some nursing students who didn’t earn much, a sanitation worker and his girlfriend who lived above me, a truck driver for a local meat company, and me. It was just an old duplex chopped up into small rental units, but it was comfortable and cozy . . . and cheap.

  Ben had snagged a backpack from the back of his Jeep and joined me. “I’ll change at your place, if that’s okay?”

  I nodded. “Prepared for overnights, I see?” My comment came out a bit snarky, but he just shrugged.

  “Always. My cases tend to run long, or I get stuck with an emergency. This way, I can be ready to do anything at a moment’s notice.”

  I nodded again as we walked toward my entrance in the back. Unlocking the dead bolt, I couldn’t help but see my place through Ben’s eyes, and wondered if this was how he’d felt in high school. Did he feel uncomfortable seeing us looking at his life with pity?

  He scanned the dated kitchen with its nicked cabinets, a dishwasher so old it was easier to wash my dishes by hand, and a faded lime-green Formica countertop. The ratty brown couch I’d found in a secondhand shop sat in the living area across from the open kitchen, along with a television set on an old nightstand from the same secondhand store, sitting catty-corner across from it. At least my one houseplant wasn’t dead. It thrived in a way I wished I could.

  “Why don’t I wait for you to get dried off in the bathroom?” Ben said, still taking in my place, which made me feel naked and exposed.

  “And cleaned off.” I held my greasy palm in the air as evidence.

  “That too. Go, I’ll wait.”

  “Sure, thanks. I can leave a dry towel for you when I’m done. Okay?”

  The conversation had me off-kilter. Shame burning through my veins, I escaped to the bathroom, where I stripped off my clothes and splashed warm water on my face, then quickly dried off and wrapped a towel around myself.

  Taking deep breaths, I stared at myself in the mirror. I shouldn’t be ashamed. This place may not be much . . . and then the door opened and I whipped around as I spoke the last thought aloud. “This is all me.”

  Ben stood there, confusion all over his face, as if he were the one surprised inside the bathroom rather than the one barging in.

  “Really? You don’t knock?” I gripped the towel a bit tighter.

  He stood on the threshold, one palm clamped over his forehead. “I couldn’t wait. I’m sorry. Truly. I realized I was out there judging you, and I don’t know where that comes from. That’s not me. It never was, and I don’t want it to be.”

  My eyes watered, and I sniffed back any self-loathing.

  “I’m sure you worked hard for this,” he said, a little more calmly now. “And I know you came from big money, but for whatever reason, your life’s not all about that anymore. I respect that . . . I respect you. When you’re ready to tell me what happened, you will. Until then, I didn’t mean to do that. It was just so shocking to me to see this, and even more shocking that I did it—judged you, not that you live here.”

  Blowing out a breath, I said, “It’s fine. I get it. This is a surprise, but I’m making things happen on my own now. You know what? I can change in my room now, and you can have the bathroom.” I moved past him, waving at the bathroom behind me while still tightly gripping the towel.

  I needed a minute to process all this.

  Who is he to come walking into my place, serving up judgments and then apologies, causing me pain and then making me feel all warm and gooey?

  The toilet flushed and the water ran before the door opened and out came Ben in the same clothes. “I left my backpack out there,” he said, walking through my bedroom.

  I was sitting on the edge of my bed, having made no progress in changing into actual clothes. My mouth fell open at the way he’d taken over my shabby apartment in a matter of minutes.

  “Be out in a sec,” he said as he strode confidently back across my room, bag in hand.

  “Oh,” I said, apparently back to one-word nonsensical answers.

  Hurrying to my closet, I grabbed a pair of jean shorts and a white T-shirt, the most casual outfit I owned. It was what I wore when I cleaned the bathroom, but it felt more appropriate for a summer evening in Vermont than what I had on earlier.

  I was at the vanity brushing my hair when Ben came out of the bathroom in a clean pair of khaki shorts and a navy polo shirt. My gaze lifted to meet his as I wondered if his pale blue eyes would look great against the darker shade of his shirt. I was right.

  “I need a sec to fix my makeup, and then I’ll be ready. But, honestly, we don’t have to go out for dinner.”

  “We do,” he said with authority, combing his fingers through his hair.

  A memory from prep school flas
hed in my mind. Ben used to do that when we were studying, and I always wanted to run my own fingers through his hair. I knew he liked me, but he wasn’t who I was supposed to be with. My parents liked Burnett’s parents.

  “You okay?” Ben came close and ran a hand down my arm. It felt incredibly intimate, more intimate than I’d been with anyone else.

  “Yes, why?” Uncomfortable, I shoved my hair behind my ear with unneeded force.

  “You were deep in thought.”

  Rather than answer, I brushed past him to grab a pair of shoes from the cheap shoe rack I’d bought off the clearance shelf at Walmart.

  “Well? About what?” he asked.

  I sat on the bed, fastening a pair of Cleopatra-style sandals around my ankles. I might be dressing down, but everyone knew shoes made an outfit.

  Not meeting his eyes, I shrugged. “I was thinking about Pressman. That’s all.”

  “And?” He plopped down next to me on the bed. It was a cheap mattress on a simple frame, no headboard, but again—it was all mine.

  I couldn’t worry about my poor excuse for a bed because if I’d thought earlier felt intimate, this was off-the-charts cozy. We were downright homey like a couple, sitting on the bed and chatting about my thoughts.

  I wasn’t a prude, but this was a level of closeness I didn’t look for in relationships. My parents never appeared to have it or want it, so I grew up thinking it wasn’t meant to be or didn’t exist.

  Ben nudged my ribs with his elbow.

  “Ow.” I faked a yelp. “Why did you do that?”

  “What were you thinking about at Pressman? How ticklish you were?”

  “Don’t you dare.” I scowled and inched away from him. In high school, we’d always been in close proximity with ease. He’d tickle me until tears fell. I’d mistaken it for his being goofy, until I knew better.

  Giving in, I sheepishly admitted, “Us. I was thinking about us, you know, studying. Studying with you. Hanging with you, pretending to be studying too. I knew you liked me.”

  Ben smiled, the most natural, gorgeous thing I’d ever seen, with his straight teeth and small laugh lines bracketing his mouth.