Unfriend Me: A Small Town Best Friends to Lovers Romantic Comedy (Jobs From Hell Book 3)

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Unfriend Me: A Small Town Best Friends to Lovers Romantic Comedy (Jobs From Hell Book 3) Page 3

by Marika Ray


  The end of September usually called for cool evenings, but it had been unseasonably warm this late into the summer this year. I told myself I’d just step outside the tent to get some fresh air and then I’d go back inside and continue to support my friends. The moon had risen, bright in the sky, casting a glow to the grassy lawn that stretched out along the coast behind the church. I’d been coming to this church since I was born. Oddly enough, I didn’t yearn for travel or new adventures. Auburn Hill was a quirky-ass town, but I was content here.

  “Who you staring at, asshole?”

  My head spun left and I squinted through the darkness. That sounded a lot like Amelia. Alarm threaded through my veins and I took off at a sprint to where I thought I’d heard her voice. If Daire was back causing trouble, I wanted to be there to set him straight on his status in this town. I was almost to the tree line at the far south side of the lawn when I saw her, hands on hips, high heels off and held in her hand by the dainty straps. Her back was to me, which meant I could take her in without her notice. And I would have enjoyed that view if I hadn’t gotten distracted by her adversary.

  “What? You just gonna stare at me like you weren’t about to peck my face off a second ago?” Amelia shouted again, listing to the side before righting herself.

  I shoved my fist against my mouth and begged myself not to laugh.

  Amelia wasn’t fighting with Daire. She wasn’t even fighting with a human.

  Amelia was in a stare down with a damn peacock.

  The peacock looked suspiciously like the one my buddy Charlie had on his property farther outside of town. It had simply shown up one day, probably sensing that soft-hearted Charlie wouldn’t chase him away. We determined it was a male, due to its extensively colored plumage. Then again, what the hell did we really know about peafowl?

  Paul—the name Charlie had given the peacock because alliteration was the basis for all naming conventions—took two steps closer to Amelia, risking his life.

  Amelia threw her shoes down in the grass and pointed at the poor bird with a hand that still gripped an entire bottle of champagne she must have pilfered from the open bar.

  “Don’t you threaten me, buddy. I am not in the mood to deal with your bullshit. Bird shit?” She tilted her head like she was thinking about her word usage before tearing back into the bird in an even louder voice. “Or anyone’s bird shit ever again. You hear me? Just because you have the word cock in your name doesn’t mean you can order me around.”

  She took huge gulps of champagne right from the bottle, draining it, then throwing it to the ground to meet her shoes. She took a menacing step forward, she and Paul now only a foot or two away from each other. Paul just watched her calmly. Dude was calmer than the bomb squad.

  Amelia lowered her voice and I had to strain to hear it. “Oh, you want to chicken fight me? Can you even do that? You’re a fucking peacock, not a damn chicken. I call fowl.” She snickered at her own lame joke and then hiccupped.

  A huge grin settled on my face and I didn’t even try to wipe it away. Damn, I’d missed this woman. She was fucking crazy and I loved every single crazy part of her. Maybe she’d never love me like I loved her, but I couldn’t live my life without her. I tried that this last year, and especially this last month, and it had sucked. I’d just have to suck it up, hide my feelings, and settle for being her friend. If that’s all Amelia could give, then I’d be happy with it.

  Paul apparently loved Amelia too. In a flash, he fanned out his feathers, the whoosh of air the rapid movement created making Amelia’s hair fly in the wind. Amelia let out a yelp to wake the dead and took off running straight at me. I couldn’t help the bark of laughter this time. Sheer terror was on Amelia’s face when she reached me, spun me around, and then climbed up my body like a tree. Her arms banded around my neck and she shouted in my ear.

  “Run!”

  She dug her bare feet into my thighs like she thought I was a racehorse who needed prodding. It worked, though. I took off running, my laughter hooting into the night as I ran, Amelia bouncing on me, whooping and hollering the whole way. I made it all the way to the bottom of the trail leading down to the beach before she pulled me to a stop.

  I stood there looking at the ocean in the dark, the woman I loved on my back with a pounding heart and ripped dress from her flight from a peacock. This. This was why I’d take a friendship over nothing with Amelia. She made me feel alive in ways no one else could.

  “You know I’m not a horse, right?” I asked her, the laughter still in my voice.

  She blew out a deep breath and peeled her arms off my neck. In the next breath, she slid down my back and nearly fell over the minute her feet hit the ground. I spun around and caught her to me.

  “Sit down before you kill yourself.” I helped her down to the sand, figuring her dress was already ruined when she straddled me and ripped the hem up the side. I sat next to her, not giving a shit if I ruined my dress pants. I hated them anyway.

  “Did that just fucking happen?” she said out loud.

  I snorted and she let out a gasping wheeze. She bent at the waist and nearly had her forehead touching her legs. For a second I thought she might be throwing up, what with the amount of alcohol she had to have in her system right about then. I put a hand on her back and then heard the first sounds of hysterical laughter hit my ears.

  Not puking. Laughing.

  She straightened quickly and tossed her head back, cackling loudly in between wheezy inhales. Tears of laughter were rolling down her cheeks and she’d never looked more beautiful to me. I watched her, a small smile on my face as I took her in and absorbed this moment with her. After all, if perfect moments stretched between bland existence would be all I got with Amelia, I’d take them and savor them like the treasures they were.

  The waves rolled in and crashed on the shore, a background to Amelia’s drunken mirth. Eventually she quieted, her gaze trained on the white foam trailing higher on the sand but still far enough away we were in no danger of getting wet. The bubble of anger that seemed to cling to her like perfume drifted away in the breeze.

  While she attempted to sober up, I sat with my thoughts. I didn’t try to avoid them like usual. I didn’t shut them down or let them fester, making me bitter and resentful. The thing was, Amelia owed me nothing. I could love her beyond all reason and she didn’t owe me a damn thing in return. My love didn’t come with shackles. She wasn’t responsible for my feelings; I was. And so I’d choose to love her freely and unconditionally. I’d quit being mad at her for not loving me back, for not seeing how much better I’d treat her than any other man she settled for. No matter how she responded or didn’t, I’d simply love her.

  A huge weight came off my chest, leaving me feeling peaceful for the first time in years.

  “My life is shit, T.” Amelia’s voice was so soft I barely heard her above the crash of waves.

  I startled, forgetting we sat so close while I came to my epiphany. Amelia rarely talked softly. Hell, she rarely sat silently either. Maybe the ocean was magical tonight, leading us both to new ideas and resolutions. Maybe Charlie was right and the moonlight held some sort of power that transcended logic.

  “Is it so bad?” I asked. My chest ached for her.

  “Yeah. It really is. I just wanted to be a badass boss bitch and somehow I’ve let my life flush down the toilet.” She sounded lost. Beaten down.

  I chanced a glance at her, not wanting to break the spell that kept her sharing openly with me. A tear slid down her cheek and I had a suspicion it wasn’t from laughter this time.

  Lead with love.

  I scooted closer and slid my arm around her shoulders, pulling her face into my chest. I couldn’t fix things for her, no matter how badly I wanted to, but I could show her I cared. She came willingly, accepting the comfort and putting her hand on my chest. We stayed that way until my legs went numb and her breathing evened out. Trying not to jostle her, I picked her up and stood, heading back up the trail and to
my truck.

  She stirred when I put her in the truck, her eyelids fluttering open. As soon as she focused on my face, she smiled and went back to sleep. My heart squeezed in my chest at her trust. On the drive to the hotel, I doubled down on my vow. I’d love her unconditionally. I’d get her to her room and in bed and then I’d leave her. No matter how much it hurt to walk away.

  I’d never have her in the ways I wanted, but I loved her enough to want to see her happy.

  4

  Amelia

  It was amazing what a week could do to a person. And regularly washing my hair. Something about clean roots and a face full of makeup made me feel like I could conquer the world. All that and sobering up for a full seven days. My poor liver had been working double time the last year while dating Douchebag. Oh yeah, I’d quit using the name Daire and inserted Douchebag. Seemed appropriate.

  When I truly had my life together, I was considering writing a book. All the teeny tiny warning signs us girls ignore when a hot guy pays us any attention. It would be a bestseller and there’d be a ton of guys with breakup texts for being douchebags. I could see it now.

  I grabbed my keys and headed out the door, breezing through the lobby and saying good morning to my staff. Today was my only true day off and I had plans. Mama was getting a new tattoo. Not my actual mother. Me. I’d done some heavy thinking the last week and I’d come to a conclusion about my life. The breakup with Douchebag brought me to a fork in the road of my life. I made the hard decision to take the high road and get my life back on track. While a fork could have been my symbolic tattoo, I thought it might imply I was a foodie, which I totally wasn’t. I was a drinkie. My liver could attest. So, I decided to get a tattoo of a phoenix. Rebirth, baby. Watch this motherfucker rise from the ashes.

  “Lia,” a voice called out the second I stepped out the front door of the hotel.

  My head popped up and I spotted Titus climbing out of his truck in the parking lot. Titus. While I was busy rebirthing, which was a lot more messy psychologically than actual birth I’ll have you know, I’d spared quite a few thoughts about Titus. That fork in the road I talked about? Titus was standing on that high road, one of the major reasons I’d chosen that road. I missed him.

  I rushed over, barreling into him for a hug, surprising him based on the “oof” that escaped on impact. “T! I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “Uh…thanks. Me too.” Pulling back, I could see him scratching the side of his head, like he wasn’t sure what to say.

  “Whatcha doin’ here?” He looked like he was ready to go to work, the branded T-shirt that made his biceps pop, the jeans and work boots said he knew what to do with his hands. I’d seen him in this outfit a thousand times over the years, but I saw him with new eyes today. He’d built a solid business without a degree, just hard work and dedication to his craft. I was proud of him and I didn’t think I’d ever told him that.

  “Oh.” He reached back into the cab of the truck and came out with a coffee in his hand. “I don’t have a job until later today, so I thought I’d bring you coffee and see how you’re doing.”

  I looked at the coffee cup he extended to me, slightly breathless. “You brought me coffee?”

  Titus looked away before making eye contact again. “Yeah. Mocha with no whip but extra drizzle, right? Or did that change?”

  He remembered. I hadn’t ordered a coffee in front of him for over a year and he remembered my drink?

  I took the cup with a quick nod and also gave him another hug. In thanks, sure, but also to hide the fact my eyes were burning again. What the hell was going on with my eyes recently? Allergies? Rare ocular cancer? I’d have to get them checked soon. This burning sensation was a pain in the ass. Or pain in the eyeball, I guess you could say.

  “I’m headed to get a tattoo. Want to come with me?” I asked against his chest, the invitation slipping out before I thought it through. “I mean, I doubt you want to spend a morning off at a tattoo shop…”

  “Yeah, let’s do it,” Titus answered, his chest beating loudly beneath my ear.

  I pulled away and smiled up at him. My morning was getting better by the second. “My car?” I asked.

  “Nah. Hop in.” He helped me into his truck and I scooted across the bench seat to the passenger side. His truck smelled like him. Wood, cologne, and something that could only be described as man-smell. It was delicious.

  We chatted the whole way to Moss Landing where my tattoo artist waited for me. Our conversation felt like old times again. I couldn’t believe I’d gone a whole year without this easy banter between two friends who knew each other inside and out.

  As we pulled into the parking lot next to the tattoo shop, I said quietly, “You don’t have to check on me, you know. I’m going to be okay.”

  Titus put the truck in park and shut off the engine before answering. “I know that, but I’ve always checked on you, Lia. Kind of hard to stop the habit now.”

  A warm glow that had nothing to do with the hot coffee hit my chest. “Like when I fell off my skateboard trying to do a hospital flip?”

  Titus smirked. “Little did you know it would necessitate a real hospital trip to set your finger and get the gravel out of your knee.”

  I smiled at the memory, even though at the time, it was fucking painful. “You brought me my homework for three days straight so I wouldn’t get behind.”

  Titus shrugged. “It’s what friends do.”

  I nodded, finding his slightly pink cheeks fascinating. And the way he wouldn’t look at me, just staring out the windshield at an empty parking lot. “Or when Jack dumped me junior year the day before prom and you ditched your girlfriend to take me instead?”

  He rolled his lips in and suddenly I was fascinated by them.

  “Couldn’t let my best friend go through that alone. Besides, Danielle was driving me crazy. We would’ve broken up eventually.”

  I cringed. “I’m starting to see a pattern.”

  Titus’s head whipped over, his eyes bright. “You do?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, I always pick the wrong guys. The assholes. Why do I do that?”

  He let out a huff of a breath and then climbed out of the truck, coming around the hood to open my door and help me down. “Wish I knew why so I could smack some sense into you,” he grumbled.

  “Try that shit and I’ll hit back ten times harder,” I countered, reaching back in the truck for the rest of my coffee. Titus didn’t blink an eye. He was used to my threats.

  We walked into the tattoo shop my artist had opened early just for me. After ten tattoos with the same artist, you got certain privileges. The poor guy was starting to have a hard time finding blank skin to use for the designs I had in my head. As of yet, my parents hadn’t caught wind of my ink obsession. All my current tattoos were located where normal clothes would keep them covered up. Today’s phoenix would be starting between my shoulder blades and extending toward my shoulders. I’d have to take care not to wear racerback tanks around my parents or they’d discover my secret.

  Yes, I was twenty-eight and still hiding my tattoos from my parents. My sass only extended so far.

  “Okay, shirt rolled up and have a seat,” Jimmy said gruffly. What he lacked in personality, he made up for in his design work. The man was incredible with a needle and ink.

  “Turn around,” I told Titus.

  He frowned. “Why?”

  “Because I don’t have a bra on and today’s not the day you’re gonna see the goods, okay?” I gave him my best irritated look.

  His cheeks did that blushing thing and he spun around on the rolling stool. I pulled my shirt right below my breasts and then rolled the back up and tucked it under the neck line. As I lay down, my whole body got sweaty. From nerves or Titus’s response, I wasn’t sure.

  “So, you’re saying eventually I’m gonna see the goods?”

  Titus twirled around and bent down so his face was near my head, turned in his direction. I scoffed, the only comeback I could
muster. The artist pressed the sketch of the bird we’d decided on onto my back to transfer the design. He immediately got to work and I pressed my lips together against the pain.

  Titus grabbed my hand where it gripped the edge of the table and held it tight. I didn’t mind the pain of the tattoo. After a while, it almost became soothing. Maybe that made me messed up in the head, but it was the truth. I didn’t bother explaining it to Titus as I quite liked him holding my hand to get me through it.

  “Your next tattoo should be my name,” he said with a wink.

  The boy knew what he was doing. He was riling me up, getting me distracted. He’d been doing that since middle school, and while I knew that’s what he was doing, it still worked every time.

  I rolled my eyes. “Please. Says the guy with virgin skin.”

  “Oh, a tenderfoot, huh?” Jimmy grunted, amusement in his voice.

  “My virgin skin is a throwback, much like my hair. Everybody’s off getting tattoos and piercings and soccer man haircuts. I’m all original parts over here.”

  “Jesus. You say that like it’s something to be celebrated. Are you a car or a human? What are you saving your precious skin for anyway? Thinking of taking up modeling?”

  He squeezed my hand tighter. “Maybe. It’s not so farfetched. I mean, how many six-foot-five guys do you see with muscles and mullets? I should make a calendar.” He spread his other arm out wide like he was a prize.

  Jimmy made a noise that sounded like a cough covering a fart.

  “Not many, thank God,” I answered him. And I meant it. Not for the reasons I let on. I’m glad there weren’t many like him out there. He was one of a kind and I quite liked that about my best friend.

 

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