Dating My Brother's Best Friend

by Kate Swain

  “I know. You are right. I don’t want that anyway. He is my best friend.” It was unfortunate, but there was nothing we could really do.

  “So,” Carter grinned back. “All we can do is have a good time. And, you know what? Of all of us, you’re the one who always has the most luck with girls.”

  “Thanks,” I muttered. I knew he meant it to cheer me up, but it didn’t really help anything. I had plenty of fun over the last few years, it was true. I’d chased women and scored more than any guy I knew. But I didn’t want that life anymore.

  “Hey! Want pizza?” Matthew said, coming up the hallway in a white t-shirt and jeans, his overalls stashed away in his locker. “It’s the weekend!”

  “Yeah!” Carter grinned.

  We all went out into the parking-lot together. It was cold outside and I fastened the front of my jacket, shivering despite the thick padding. I was distracted, weary and down. It was frustrating, but I couldn’t help it. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I’d met a girl I really wanted. And she was the one girl I couldn’t have.

  “Cheer up, Mark,” Matthew said, resting a hand on my shoulder. “Tomorrow’s an easy day. Let’s go out.”

  I nodded. Tomorrow was Saturday, the day of the week when we started work at nine-thirty instead of 7. That meant that we could have a leisurely breakfast and sleep later than usual. I looked forward to it.

  “Is Adam working tomorrow?” I frowned.

  Matthew shrugged. “I guess. He just had to deal with something with his dad. Shouldn’t take long. He’ll join us tomorrow.”

  “Okay,” I shrugged. I didn’t feel entirely happy about that, though. I knew I was being dumb about all this. Adam was my best friend, apart from Matthew, and I just did not know what to do with him and Maddy.

  “And maybe we can go to the bar after work tomorrow?” Matthew said trying to infuse some cheer into the moment. “I might just be able to ask Mrs. Cleary next door to take care of Connor for the evening.”

  I paused. I knew Matthew was being kind, but I didn’t really feel like going out even though I knew it was probably best if I did. Besides, I did not want to disrupt his Saturday evening with Connor, and then be bad company. That would be unfair.

  “I don’t know,” I said lightly. “Can I decide tomorrow morning?”

  He nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

  I took a deep breath and rested my hand on his arm. “Thanks, Matt,” I said. “You’re a good friend.”

  “No problem,” he said with a smile. “It’s what brothers are for.”

  I smiled and he smiled back and, if there had been any awkwardness between us it vanished, blown away like the stiff autumn wind.

  I put my hands in my pockets, feeling them tingle from the cold, and we headed swiftly out of the parking lot to the restaurant.

  The next morning, I woke up still half-asleep. If I hadn’t set an alarm for eight a.m., I would probably have slept for at least another hour. I rolled out of bed, stretched and yawned. After a shower, I sat on the bed and read through my messages.

  “Oh!” I frowned. Matthew had texted me a few minutes ago.

  Will probably be late this morning for breakfast. Taking care of Connor.

  I texted back, smiling to myself. Connor, my brother’s five-year-old son, was his major priority. I could easily understand why he would be late. I got dressed, choosing a rather nice newish white shirt to go with my jeans. Maybe impressing some girls would lift my spirits.

  I arrived at Clavell’s Café, which was the nice coffee shop my brother and I frequented for breakfast on the weekends, at a quarter to nine. It was when we usually met, but there was no sign of my brother. I shrugged and went up to the counter to order a coffee. It wouldn’t hurt to be a bit more awake when Matthew arrived.

  “That’ll be two dollars, please,” the barista informed me. I paid and turned around to find a table. As I did so, a woman walked straight into me.

  “Oh!” she gasped. “So sorry!”

  I swore as hot coffee ran down my front, soaking my white shirt. Then I looked up. I stared.

  It was Maddy.

  7

  Maddy

  I felt my heart skip a beat when I stared up into those blue eyes I knew so well, but had never expected to see here at nine on a Saturday.

  “Mark!” I stammered.

  He looked down at me. I couldn’t guess what his expression meant—his eyes were blank, his lips twisted into a half-smile.

  I felt a mix of embarrassment, awkwardness, and excitement flood over me. I was giddy with a feeling I couldn’t quite describe, one that filled my tummy and soul. It made me tingle, making me want, very badly and strangely, to laugh. I grabbed a handful of napkins off the counter and pressed them to his wet shirt.

  “I’m so sorry,” I murmured. I looked at his shirt, blushing as I saw the extent of the stain. My fingers pressed the weak paper towels to his body.

  I felt the hardness of his chest under my hands. It was as firm as a stone wall. On the second dab, my hand lingered much longer than needed. It was obvious to both of us. I couldn’t help how excited I felt. I swallowed hard, my panties damp as my body responded to being so close to him.

  “Maddy,” he said gently laughing as he took my hands and held them. He moved us aside so that we were standing out of the way of the customers.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked, looking up at him.

  “Nothing,” he said. His voice was low, and his eyes had that distant expression I couldn’t quite read. “Nothing’s funny. Can I replace that?”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Your coffee.”

  I went red. “I spilled it on you,” I said shyly. “I should buy you a coffee.”

  “I still have one,” I said, gesturing at the cup in my other hand. His smile was self-deprecatory. “If you’d let me replace the one I walked into?”

  I giggled. “I walked into you, Mark,” I said.

  “I walked into you,” he said softly.

  It was weird. As we looked into each other’s eyes, the whole coffee shop could have dissolved. I was aware only of him and the strange knowing look that passed between us. His eyes held mine and I could have drowned in the blue depths. They touched the depth of my soul.

  He blinked and it was as if we both woke up suddenly. I blushed and stepped out of the way of the customers. He gently laid a hand on my arm and moved me over to a table, pointing to the seat.

  “Would you like to sit down?” he asked.

  I shrugged. Inside, my heart was bursting into a song whose words I didn’t know, but whose music filled me with light. “Okay,” I whispered.

  “Sir.” He gestured to the waiter. “Another coffee here, please. And… have you eaten?” he frowned at me, one dark eyebrow lifted.

  I shook my head.

  “Pancakes?” he asked.

  I nodded, my stomach tingling with excitement. “Okay,” I said, smiling happily. “I’d love that!”

  “And two stacks of pancakes, please,” he added to the waiter, who had been waiting at the edge of the table for us to decide. He nodded and left.

  “So,” Mark said. His voice sounded a little tight. I felt the sound of it flow through me like heat. “How are you doing?”

  I shrugged. “Okay,” I said. My voice sounded squeaky, and I cleared my throat, feeling shy. “I mean… it’s quite nice to be back.”

  “I guess it must be,” Mark said with a smile. “Very different compared to New York City, no?”

  I grinned. “Kind of. Not that I actually did much exploring while I was there. I mean, most of the time I was so busy at school, and with work…”

  “What kind of work were you doing there?” Mark asked, his eyes wide with interest. I felt like he genuinely wanted to know. It surprised me.

  Is this Mark? He used to be so self-interested.

  Not that he’d been unkind five years ago. Far from it. He’d always been polite and nice, at least where I was concerned
. But he’d never really paid attention to anyone when they spoke. He always seemed like his mind was elsewhere or his attention was on his phone or the next event he would attend.

  “All sorts,” I shook my head, puffing out my cheeks. “I worked in some restaurants and did catering work. Anything I could get into to make some money, really.”

  “To cover tuition?” Mark asked. He looked concerned and I was touched. “It must have been expensive.”

  “No, I was on a scholarship, and tuition and books were covered. It was the housing costs that were hard to manage. But I wanted to have some savings by the time I finished my studies.” I explained, feeling moved by the genuine interest he showed.

  “I understand,” Mark nodded. “Those savings must be useful now?” He asked, sipping his coffee, though his eyes were still holding mine and I blushed.

  “Not really,” I admitted. “I was saving to open a dance studio and have my own place here, but so far, I haven’t had any luck.”

  “A studio?” he sounded interested. “You’re starting your own studio?”

  I nodded. I had not actually discussed my dream with anyone—besides Becca—but now I did so naturally. I wanted him to know all about it, as if his hearing about my idea would make it more special.

  “I want to start a studio, where I can coach underprivileged kids,” I explained, sipping my coffee. “I wanted to do this for I don’t know how long. It’s been a dream for years.”

  “Wow,” he said. “That’s amazing.”

  “Thanks,” I said softly. My cheeks glowed bright red and I looked away, feeling a mix of shyness and elation. This conversation was better than anything I could imagine.

  The waiter arrived with two plates of pancakes balanced neatly on a tray. I looked away, not sorry for the distraction, since it gave me a chance to compose myself.

  “Man, that looks good,” Mark murmured.

  I nodded. My stomach rumbled. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was! I looked up to find Mark’s gaze holding mine. He looked amused.

  “Look like you could do with breakfast,” he said.

  I grinned. “I really am starving. I don’t know why. I think I’ve been hungry ever since I moved back.” I said, looking deep into his eyes.

  “That is interesting,” he said, matching my gaze. He lifted a napkin and put it on his lap before picking up his knife and fork.

  “Yeah. It could be the time of year. Or I’m just in a moment of wanting more in life,” I laughed, picking up my own knife and fork, ready to dig in. “Even thinking about dance makes you hungry.”

  “I guess it must,” he nodded, grinning. “It looks like hard work pulling it all together.”

  “It is,” I said. My mouth was full, and I savored the warm syrup. I looked up to see him smiling at me. “What?”

  “Here,” he said. He reached over with a napkin. I moved a little bit backward as he touched it to my chin. His eyes held mine with the most tender expression.

  “Thanks,” I said breathlessly.

  We looked at each other for a long moment. I felt my heart pound and I looked away, not knowing what to do or say.

  “If you happen to know anybody with studio space,” I said, my voice squeaky, “let me know?”

  “Sure,” he nodded. “You never know. We get all sorts of clients in the shop. Somebody might know somebody who has something they might rent.”

  “Sure,” I said, clearing my throat. “There’s got to be something in this city for my needs.”

  “Well, I guess you’ll manage to find space here in Kansas City,” Mark said, lifting his cup to his lips and drinking. “I reckon there’s space for almost anything, if you look hard enough.”

  I grinned. “Well, I have the best realtor I can imagine on the job. Becca Marsh,” raising one of my eyebrows. Becca and he must have met at least once before because I noticed that they remembered each other at the anniversary party the other night.

  “Becca is a realtor?” he asked. He sounded genuinely surprised and I had to grin.

  “Yes. She’s had her job here in Kansas for the last year and a half. It sounds like she’s doing really well. Wouldn’t surprise me if she herself could buy a studio sometime soon.” I giggled.

  “Probably,” he said, grinning. “Just imagine that.”

  I laughed. “Well if she can help me find one, it will be great.”

  “Yeah, I agree.”

  We sat still for a while, each lost in our own thoughts and finishing up our breakfast. I shifted in my seat, feeling uncomfortable. I could feel his foot next to mine, and the feeling of him being so close was exciting and special. I looked up from my coffee to find his eyes looking into mine.

  “I know you’ll manage to achieve your goal,” he said. His voice was low and sincere and my heart ached to hear it. His eyes were on mine, honest and open. I felt their touch as if he touched my soul.

  “Thanks,” I murmured.

  His hand, resting on the table, had moved close to mine. I held my breath. As if he’d just noticed its being there, he lifted his hand and rested it on top of mine. I shut my eyes, my breath catching in my throat.

  If I didn’t get out of there soon, I would kiss him. And then I’d be in big trouble.

  “Um…” I murmured. “I should probably go soon.”

  “I understand.”

  He didn’t move. Nor did I. He looked into my eyes. I felt my heart beating, slow and steady.

  “I really should go,” I stammered.

  “I know,” he said. This time, he removed his hand from mine. He did it slowly and reluctantly, and I felt an immediate pain and longing in my heart. The loss of his warm hand caused a physical ache in me.

  He grabbed the check. I protested, offering to pay while digging in my wallet, but he raised his hand. “I got this one,” he said.

  I pushed back my chair. “Thanks for the coffee and waffles. Very yummy,” I said. My voice was tight and I coughed, to clear it.

  “It was great to see you.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “Sure,” he said.

  I stood up, my legs feeling wobbly and weak. I fumbled with my coat, pulling it on clumsily. I looked down at him, not sure what to do or say—everything felt so confused and I didn’t know how to react or respond.

  He looked up at me and his face was the same mix of happiness and sorrow I felt. I coughed.

  “See you soon,” I murmured.

  “Sure,” he whispered.

  I turned around, my heart sore, and walked blindly through the doors and into the cold street.

  8

  Mark

  I stood up from the table, feeling dazed. I had no idea how long I had sat there just watching the door through which Maddy had just departed. I was still barely able to believe what had just happened. I was filled with thoughts of Maddy. And desire for her. The bustle and noise of the café intruded on my thoughts at last, and I shook myself, annoyed at my loss of control.

  “Come on, Mark. You have work to do.”

  I drained the last bit of my coffee. It was still warm, which reassured me that at least I hadn’t been sitting there that long. I checked my phone, and found a text from Matthew.

  Sorry, was busy with Connor. See you in fifteen minutes at work.

  I bit my lip, wincing. It was well past nine already. I couldn’t believe how fast time had flown with Maddy! There was little I could do about it now. I was going to be late, and by more than a few minutes! I would just have to face Carter when I got there.

  “Damn it,” I muttered under my breath. My shirt touched my skin and I remembered the spilled coffee. It was a little sticky. I considered going home to change, then realized I needed to get to work ASAP. I’d change into my overalls anyway.

  I ran into work at five to ten. My heart pounded. Sweat ran down my back. I ran through the office to the locker room, grabbing my things from the locker as I did so. I flung the sticky shirt off, feeling an odd regret as I did so. I ran a finger down
the stain on the front, smiling sadly. If it wasn’t for this shirt, and the coffee on it, I would likely never have spent the morning talking with Maddy.

  It was worth that. And it was worth being late to work today.

  I rinsed the sticky wetness off my chest, dumped my shirt into my backpack since I planned to drive to my house at lunchtime anyway. I can wash it later. I dressed hastily into my overalls and ran to the workshop. I set the backpack down by the tool bin on the back wall. I turned to get my tools for my first repair, when Carter arrived.

  He came over. He looked at his watch. One eyebrow lifted as he studied me, his face hard.

  “What?” he said.

  I swallowed hard. “Look, I’m sorry, I…”

  “You know we start at nine-thirty,” he said. “It’s ten o’clock, now. And I have work waiting for you. If we don’t get finished with the new Kawasaki because you were sleeping late, then I don’t know what I…”

  “I wasn’t asleep,” I interrupted quickly. “Ask Matt. I went to the café, for our regular breakfast. Only, Matt wasn’t there, and Maddy spilled coffee on me. So, I was late.”

  Carter was very confused. “What’re you telling me?”

  “I mean it,” I said. As luck would have it, my backpack with the stained shirt was leaning against the back wall. I fished it out and held it up. “Look,” I said. “You can see the coffee-stain. It really happened.”

  He shook his head. “Well… I can see you’re telling the truth. Maddy did that?” he grinned.

  I nodded. “Yeah. It was an accident.”

  “I’m sure it was,” he said. He sounded amused now, and I felt my stomach twist with a mix of annoyance and happiness. Annoyance, for his evident enjoyment. Happiness, because it really happened. He still looked stern, and I knew that he was genuinely disappointed in me.

  “So, I’m sorry I’m late.” I murmured. “It won’t happen again.” I looked at the floor, feeling bad. I really did feel guilty. I took my job here seriously, and Carter did know that, however much he might lose his temper with me. I also did not want to strain our family relationship.