Break Up with Him, for Me: A ‘Friends to Lovers’ Romance

by G. , Whitney

  “When is he trying to take you away?”

  “The end of next month,” she said. “After your gala.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “Hmmm, this is good, or Hmmm this is not good?”

  “Hmmm. This is interesting.”

  “Well, he doesn’t need an answer right away, so whenever you determine which one it is, let me know.”

  “I will.”

  Silence stretched over the line for several seconds.

  “I feel like we haven’t talked in a while,” we said in unison.

  She laughed. “Good to know the feeling is mutual. How are you letters coming? I saw the editor of Vogue reading hers aloud to her fans on social media.”

  “She didn’t tell them that she sent me a letter saying that she’d only accept it if I doubled her check and gave her ten extra tickets to the gala.”

  “Did you?”

  “Only because I didn’t have a choice.”

  “Of course.” She laughed again. “Is Lawrence happy with the good press?”

  “Lawrence is never happy, but I think he’ll be less stressed out after the Tinder thing.”

  “You could just lie and say that you did steal it so we can settle it once and for all.”

  “Then they’d sue me for all of eternity.” I needed to change the subject. “You really like Simon?”

  “Yeah, I do. I think he’s the nicest guy I’ve ever dated. I think he’ll be the first guy who actually believes we’re just best friends.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I sat up, convinced I was hearing things.

  “Oh, just that—” She let out a breath. “I tend to forget how much I call or hang out with you.”

  “We haven’t hung out that much lately.”

  “That’s the point I’m trying to make.”

  “Can you try a bit harder?” I asked. “I’m still not getting it.”

  Her light and raspy laugh came over the line. “Go back to sleep. You’re being a grouch.”

  “Fine.” I lay back down again. “Again, though. You really like him?”

  “Yes, I do. Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight.”

  Sixteen

  Present Day

  Penelope

  * * *

  Subject: For Hayden

  Hey Sarah.

  Hayden’s phone is going to voicemail again, and he hasn’t “read” my text. Can you tell him that I’ll need a raincheck on Central Park tonight?

  P.S.—Can you also tell him that I’ll need some advice on what to wear for a hotel’s groundbreaking ceremony?

  —Penelope

  Subject: Wagner’s + Missed Your Call

  Sorry *sad face emoji*

  I forgot to text you in the heat of the moment. Simon showed up and took me on a drive across the Hudson.

  Also, I was knocked out last night, so that’s why I missed your call.

  P.S.—I still need your thoughts on the Bahamas trip. Yay? Nay? Wait?

  Subject: ???!!

  Hey.

  Are you getting any of my texts lately? All of them are still “on read.”

  Also, we finally got past the sweet kissing and dry-humped on his couch. It was pretty hot for dry humping :-) .

  Anyway, I’ll need a raincheck on Central Park this Thursday, too. I’ll tell you about it later.

  Pen

  P.S.—No, really. Is your phone broken or something?

  Subject: Raincheck Requests in Advance

  Should I just assume that every day this week will have a raincheck request?

  It would seriously save me unnecessary conversations with my boss.

  Thank you.

  Sarah

  P.S.—His phone is definitely not broken …

  Seventeen

  Present Day

  Hayden

  There was no raincheck today. No request for an extension, only an “I’m running late” text which was the first thing that felt normal in weeks.

  According to Lawrence, my personal brand was looking better and better by the day, and he hadn’t felt the need to double his blood pressure medicine.

  His daily,“So proud of you son!” text messages and emails were supposed to be encouraging, but they were simply a result of me working as hard as I could to not think about Penelope.

  I was hoping that our lunch at Tully’s today would bring her back into my orbit, and our lives could align as they did before.

  Before Simon.

  I sat in the back booth and sipped my water.

  “Mario?” I called out to the manager. “Can you turn on the TV?”

  “Certainly, Mr. Hunter. What channel?”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  He flipped between a house renovation station and the news, ultimately settling on a stock market show.

  “Feel free to change it, sir.” He set the remote in front of me and refilled my glass.

  I tried to pay attention to the boring suits and their predictions, but they weren’t saying anything of value. I pulled out my phone and watched the time tick by instead.

  Fifteen minutes passed, and there was still no sign of Penelope.

  “We’re here with Simon Gaines of Gaines & Associates.” The reporter’s voice made me look up again. “The biggest and most successful hedge fund right now. They’ve recently moved their headquarters from Florida to New York.”

  Simon smiled and shook her hand.

  I squinted at the background, realizing he was at the Park Bay Cafe off the Hudson River. He was wearing another custom suit and that custom watch he’d bragged about over dinner.

  I tossed back my shot and ordered another.

  “How are you enjoying the Big Apple so far, Mr. Gaines?” the reporter asked.

  “It’s been wonderful thus far. Already feels like home. My luxury cars have never been treated better.”

  What do your cars have to do with anything?

  “You have tons of high profile and big name clients,” she said. “Why do you think that is?”

  “My experience and track record—especially landing on the Forbes 500 at such a young age, speaks for itself,” he said. “I was more than fine in Florida, but the clients wanted me to be somewhere bigger, so I came here.”

  I started to change the channel, but the sexiest woman in the world suddenly appeared on a boat behind him.

  Penelope looked ahead at Simon with stars in her eyes, dressed in a white blouse and jeans.

  “You were spotted with Hayden Hunter recently,” the reporter continued talking. “Is he considering an investment in your firm, or are you investing in Cinder?”

  “I can never discuss business publicly.” He smiled. “But for the record, it was a friendly dinner. He and I share a beautiful common interest, and I believe he now knows that I’m protective of the things that I like, that’s all.”

  I clenched my jaw, catching the double entendre.

  Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!

  I answered my phone without looking at the screen. “Yes?”

  “Really?” Penelope laughed. “Am I interrupting you?”

  “No.” I noticed her onscreen again, getting out of the boat with the phone held up to her ear. “I believe you’re standing me up, though.”

  “How so?”

  “You said you’d meet me at Tully’s.”

  “Yeah, on Tuesday,” she said. “It’s Thursday, Hayden.”

  Huh? I looked at my watch.

  She was right.

  “Sorry.” I let out a breath.

  “It’s okay. I’m losing track of time these days as well.” She walked down to the edge of the riverbank, taking a seat at a table.

  A waiter stepped in front of her and blocked my view.

  “Are you there, Hayden?” Penelope asked.

  “Yes.” I watched the waiter finally move, tried to tune out Simon’s never-ending spiel. “I’m here.”

  “For what it’s worth, I like the fact that you make people schedule their interview with you
in advance,” she said. “I’m literally watching a play by play of what happens when they don’t.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Some finance reporter spotted me and Simon walking and she just so conveniently happened to have her full camera crew and lighting kit ready. She begged for an interview and Hayden actually bought into her ‘what a coincidence’ nonsense.”

  “He’s just new,” I said. “He’ll adjust soon. You shouldn’t be upset.”

  She leaned forward on her elbows. “Why is that?”

  “Because during our Cold War, I was the same way. I stopped and talked to whoever asked me. The extra attention can be quite addictive at first. Besides, if this is the worst thing he’s done, then he’s a great guy right?”

  She smiled, and I honestly couldn’t believe that I’d just said that.

  “Right,” she said. “This is the first time that I’ve been annoyed. Everything else has been wonderful.”

  “Well, brush this off as a one-time thing and pick up where you left off. If he’s serious about you, he’ll find a way to make it up to you soon anyway.”

  I need a fucking lobotomy.

  “Thanks, Hayden.” Her lips curved into a smile again. “You’re the best.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She opened her mouth to say something else, but the screen suddenly glitched and faded into a bottled water commercial.

  “I think he’s done talking to the interviewer now,” she said. “I’ll call you later. Tonight, maybe?”

  “Sure.”

  Eighteen

  Present Day

  Penelope

  Me: Raincheck on Central Park tonight? The ice at the rink is cracked around the edges again, so I’ll have to be there tonight with the staff until they finish.

  Me: By the way, Simon sent me chocolates and flowers at the rink this morning to make up for it. (You were right.)

  Me: What should I say to his text? (Attaching screenshot) I think he wants me to fly to Napa Valley this weekend.

  Me: Sorry I missed your call! I’ll call you later. (Thank you for the advice via voicemail [smile emoji] )

  Nineteen

  Present Day

  Hayden

  I was starting to get annoyed by all the advice I was giving her to land this other guy. And by “annoyed,” I meant jealous.

  Stage ten envy. Full-blown fucking jealous.

  To make matters worse, the fantasies that ran through my mind were getting filthier with each passing day. Uttering the words, “Stop. She's your best friend's sister,” no longer blocked me from thinking about all the ways I wanted to see her in my bed, taking every inch of me.

  The more I thought about our missed meetings at Central Park and the nightly conversations that had come to a halt, the more I started to feel that maybe, just maybe, she’d be better off with me.

  Penelope: Are you at home? I need some advice on something.

  I didn’t answer her.

  Instead, I headed downstairs to my private gym. I’d taken five cold showers today, and I needed to take a new approach to get her off my mind.

  Letting out a breath, I adjusted the weights on my bar and settled on the bench.

  My phone sounded with more texts from her, but I ignored those, too.

  As I was lifting the bar, I heard the sound of heels clicking against the floor. And then Penelope was suddenly standing over me. The sight of her in a tightly fitted grey dress damn near made me drop the weight onto my chest.

  “You got a minute?” she asked.

  “I'm clearly in the middle of something right now.” I tried not to stare at her lips too hard, but I couldn’t help it. I slowly set the weight into place and sat up.

  I looked down at her deep red stilettos and knew precisely what new image would be running through my mind the moment she left.

  “Make it quick,” I said. “I would like to finish this.”

  “Fine. Why are you avoiding me?”

  “What makes you think that I’m avoiding you, Penelope?”

  “I’m not stupid, Hayden.” She crossed her arms. “You haven’t answered my texts for three days.”

  Has it only been three days? “I’ve been busy with the latest Tinder lawsuit.” I offered a half-truth. “And I’m not sleeping well.”

  “Oh.” She looked somewhat relieved. “Well, Simon just bought me this great sleep aid thing the other day. Want to borrow it?”

  Fuck no. “I’ll buy my own. What do you need help with?”

  “I want to know your favorite position in bed.”

  “Come again?”

  “What’s. Your. Favorite. Position. In. Bed?” Her eyes met mine. “Like the place where you have sex.”

  “None of your business. That sounds like something you should be discussing with Simeon.”

  “His name is Simon.” She rolled her eyes. “I'm only asking for your help because he texted me something dirty and I need a super filthy response.”

  “Go pick up a romance novel.”

  “I’m serious.” She smiled. “Help me out, please.”

  “Fine,” I said. “What were his exact words?”

  “What?” Her cheeks flushed red. “I can’t tell you that.”

  “I can’t help you if I don’t have all the details.”

  She let out a sigh and tapped her phone, avoiding eye contact with me as she read. “You told me you’d like to take things slow, so that's exactly how I’ll fuck you when I get you alone. Nice and slow.”

  “That’s it?” I blinked. “Where’s the rest?”

  “That’s the end of it.” She looked up at me. “Hot, right?”

  “Right … ” I tried not to laugh. There was no point in telling her something that was on the level that I would say; she didn't need to show him up in the dirty talking department at this stage in the game.

  “Tell him that when he fucks you slow, you want him on top of you, missionary style. Say something about wanting to feel how deep he can go.”

  “Is that what you would say?”

  “No.” I shrugged. “But you’re not sexting me, so—” I stopped and cleared my throat. “Send him what I told you and leave it at that.”

  She tapped the screen. “Wait. So, hypothetically, if you were interested in sleeping with me me, what would you sext?”

  Don’t you dare answer this. It’s a trap.

  “I need to finish my work-out and get back to finishing some letters, Penelope. I’ll have to pass on a game of hypotheticals with you.”

  “Just tell me what you’d say. It’s not like I’m going to laugh at your skills or anything.”

  “The only thing you’d laugh about is how much better I am at it than your boyfriend.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend yet.”

  I don’t think he ever should be. “Just take my word for it.”

  “I’ll start taking your word for things when you turn back into the Hayden I know.” She stepped closer. “The one who behaves like a best friend and doesn’t go M.I.A. just because Tinder is suing him for the umpteenth time. You should be used to that by now, so if you think I’m going to buy that excuse—”

  “I’m done trying to sell it." I narrowed my eyes at her; she’d baited me. “If you want me to answer your silly-ass question, I’ll do it.”

  “I want you to stop cursing at me first.”

  “If you were sexting me and we were discussing your favorite positions, I wouldn’t want to waste my time with words. I’d just show up to your place, bend you over the couch, and show you.”

  “Isn’t that cheating?”

  “It’s better than telling you that whenever we fuck, I’m going to pull you back by your hair while sliding my cock so deep inside of your pussy that you’ll never want to fuck anyone else.” I looked over her dress again. “I’d start with that.”

  Her cheeks flushed red, and she took a step back. “Um. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I think I should
go now.”

  “I think so, too.”

  Twenty

  Penelope

  Present Day

  I stood still staring at Hayden, pinned to the spot by his heated gaze.

  “The door is behind you, Penelope,” he said, moving closer.

  “I know exactly where it is.”

  “Then why aren’t you walking toward it?”

  “Because I’m starting to think that we need to set some boundaries in our friendship.”

  “I agree,” he said. “You can send me the list in an email or a text message. You need to leave my condo, though. Now.”

  “I don’t want to discuss my sex life with Simon anymore.”

  “You mean, your lack of a sex life?” He narrowed his eyes. “Dirty texts and dry humps on the couch aren’t sex. Then again, maybe that’s what you’ve been doing with all your boyfriends this entire time.”

  “I don’t want to discuss the sex I’ve had with my previous boyfriends either.”

  “I’m not a fan of talking about failure anyway.”

  “In the meantime,” I said, taking a step back as he moved forward. “I want you to go back to being a good best friend and calling me.”

  “It would help if you actually picked up the fucking phone.”

  “I pick up whenever you call.”

  “Only to ask for a raincheck.”

  “You sound like that bothers you.”

  “It shouldn’t.”

  “So, can you please go back to being my best friend and giving me advice when I ask for it?” I said. “We have a deal.”

  “We need to make some amendments first.” He looked me up and down. “You haven’t been holding up your side.”

  “Seriously? I send you ten fucking letters a day—minimum. I’ve crafted over a hundred templates, and—”