by Lauren Layne
Lance shifts so that he’s facing me more fully, and his expression is very matter-of-fact. “You’re upset. You should be. I hurt you. But we’re adults, so before this conversation goes any further, just tell me if I even have a chance here. Because if I don’t, I’m not going to waste either of our time.”
It’s not a particularly romantic thing to say, but I find myself smiling, because it’s so Lance.
But then my smile fades, because…I don’t know what to tell him. I don’t know anything anymore.
And then it hits me that maybe my mom was right when she told Ben that I had unresolved feelings about what happened with Lance.
Because now that he’s here, I’m flooded with all sorts of memories and familiarity, and, yes, definitely a little bit of pain. I remember how we were. And how we were was good.
I wish Ben were here. To sit beside me while I figured this out. To tell me what to do.
“Parker?”
“I don’t know what to feel right now,” I tell Lance.
“Well, you’re not telling me to get out of here, so that’s good. Right?”
“Sure.”
“And I’m guessing the fact that you’re not ordering me off the property means you haven’t already moved on to some guy with movie-star good looks?”
His voice is teasing, but my mind flashes to Ben. To the way he’d looked at me last night. The way he’d held my hand.
I shake my head in denial of my own thoughts. It’s Ben. My best friend. Friend and only a friend.
Lance’s hand extends toward me, moving slowly, giving me a chance to move away. I let him take my hand, mostly to see what I feel, but I feel…
Nothing.
His fingers squeeze mine. “I want another chance, Parker.”
I finally turn to face him then. “Why? I thought you weren’t feeling it,” I jab again. “And what about the other girl? The one you noticed.”
To his credit, he doesn’t wince. Doesn’t apologize for his cold words all those nights ago, nor does he deny anything.
“She was…she was too much like me.”
My stomach clenches.
“So you dated?”
He shrugged. “Grabbed coffee a couple of times, but—”
“She didn’t want you.”
He grinned ruefully at his hands. “She has a boyfriend. But, Parker, you have to know—you have to—I’m not coming back because she wasn’t available. You and me…we have nothing to do with Laurel.”
Laurel. Blech.
“I miss you.” His voice was urgent now. “I was stupidly consumed with work, and school, and—”
“And you’re not now?” My voice is skeptical.
“Those things are always going to be important to me, but I realize now that I need balance. I…God, this sounds cliché. I didn’t know how much I needed you—loved you—until you weren’t there.”
I don’t exactly swoon, but his words definitely make me feel warm. What I wouldn’t have given to hear them before I hopped into bed with Ben Olsen.
“I do love you, Parker. That never stopped. I know that now.”
I go from warm to toasty warm, and I swallow, realizing how much I want this. Want someone to love me and need me and want me.
His fingers squeeze mine. “I want another chance. With you. And I don’t want to just pick up where we left off, I want to start fresh.”
I shake my head, indicating that I don’t understand. I sense that I’m missing whatever he’s trying to tell me.
Lance’s other hand comes up so he’s holding my hand with both of his. “I want you to move in. With me.”
I stare at him. “Come again?”
His smile is rueful. “Look, I get that Ben’s your friend, and it’s totally cool that you guys were roommates back in college, but I want to have a grown-up relationship with you, Parker. And we can’t do that with you living with another man. If I’m really being honest, I think that was part of the reason I had a hard time committing to you all the way.”
I frown. “But you…you were never jealous of Ben. Right?”
“Not jealous, no. I get that there was nothing between you but friendship, and you’re more like brother and sister….”
I look away, hoping he doesn’t see the guilt on my face.
“It’s just—” He breaks off as though trying to think of the right words. “You know, like if Ben and I were in two different car accidents and were at different hospitals…I was never really clear on which one of us you’d come visit first.”
“That’s…gruesome,” I say.
It’s a deliberate nonanswer to his hypothetical scenario, and I hope he doesn’t notice.
“You know what I mean,” he says with a half smile. “A guy wants to come first.”
I freeze as the simplicity of his statement hits home. He’s exactly right, but the implications are staggering.
Because it means that Ben and I can’t keep just going along like we are. We both deserve to have an all-encompassing, all-consuming love, and we’re not going to do that as long as we’re clinging so desperately to each other.
And when I mentally reorient myself, I feel something click into place: the realization that my mom and Lance are absolutely right.
Ben and I can’t keep just going along like we are. We both deserve to have an all-encompassing, all-consuming love, and we’re not going to do that so long as we’re clinging so desperately to each other.
Lance is also right in that we’re all grown-ups. The platonic, buddy-buddy thing was cute and fun in college, but I’ll be twenty-five in a couple months. Hardly old, but old enough to know that I want something real.
I want what I have with Ben—the laughter, and the commitment, and someone to talk my problems over with….
But I want the other stuff, too. The flowers on Valentine’s Day, the kisses in public, the eventual ring on the fourth finger.
I want someone who will hold my hand at the mall or at Starbucks. Not someone who will only ever touch me on a quiet deserted beach at midnight.
“What do you say, Parker?” Lance’s voice is pleading now. “Move in with me?”
Chapter 24
Ben
When Parker comes back in the house, I’m watching TV, but not really watching it.
Mostly I’m grinding my teeth, hating myself for bringing up Lance’s name last night. It’s like I summoned the bastard by uttering his name out loud.
Because how else, after three weeks of us not even mentioning him, has it come to be that he’s on my goddamn front porch, talking to my—
Best friend.
I hear the front door close with a quiet click, and I tense, listening for the second set of footsteps that would indicate that Lance has been invited inside.
When Parker appears in the living room alone, I breathe out a quiet sigh of relief, although I never look away from the TV, not wanting to give away too much.
Not wanting her to see…Hell, I don’t even know what it is I don’t want her to see.
Only when she sits beside me and breathes a big sigh do I turn to face her, silencing the TV as I do so.
“Talk or mute?” I ask, defaulting to our old game. Because although a part of me wants to shake her and demand that she spill every last detail of whatever Lance said to her, she’s still my friend, first and always, and I’ll be whatever she needs me to be.
Even if that’s quiet.
She blows out another long breath. “Lance wants to get back together.”
The words tear at me a little, even though I’d been pretty prepared for them. I mean, why else would he wait around on our front porch like a loser, and then go and throw in that little reminder of when he used to sneak into Parker’s bedroom on family vacations?
And that—that—is what’s really clawing at me. The knowledge that not only was I just a stand-in for Lance on the Blanton family vacation, but that I’d also been a stand-in in Parker’s bed last night.
Here I’d been romanticizing the whol
e thing like some sort of dope, whereas for Parker it was old hat.
“How do you feel about that?” I force myself to ask. How do you feel about him?
Her head falls back onto the couch and she looks exhausted.
Which, I guess, is better than her being all giddy about the fact that Lance finally saw what an idiot he’d been. But I’d prefer if she was maybe just a touch scathing, and a bit more forthcoming with some sort of over-my-dead-body proclamation at his get-back-together request.
“I don’t know,” she says. “I’m…it’s all so weird and confusing.”
She turns her head then, meeting my eyes for the first time really since last night, and I get the feeling she’s asking me something, but I don’t know what, and even if I knew the question, I sure as fuck wouldn’t know the answer.
“You’ll figure it out, Parks.” It’s the only thing I can think of to say.
“Do you think I should get back together with him?”
Oh God, don’t ask me that.
“I think you should do what you want to do,” I answer carefully.
Her arm swings out and she thwacks me across the chest. “Don’t be that guy. I need advice, damn it. Be my friend.”
I smile a little at her joking tone, because maybe things aren’t so changed between us after all.
Maybe last night was just a weird fluke. A moment of weakness, or whatever.
There’s no reason we can’t go back to how we were before, with our easy jokes. Even if she gets back together with Lance. Maybe that’s exactly what we need to pick up where we left off.
Back when our weekends involved harmless trips to IKEA, not trips to the beach that ended in mind-blowing sex.
“Don’t make it so complicated,” I tell her. “You’ve just got to decide. Are you happier with Lance? Or without him?”
“Riiiiight. Nothing complicated about that little tiny decision,” she says sarcastically.
I pat her hand where it’s fallen to my thigh. “You’ll figure it out.”
If my fingers linger just for a moment, we both ignore it. Because we each know that if she gets back together with Lance, these casual, lingering touches will be a thing of the past.
Parker’s chewing on a fingernail on her other hand, staring straight ahead. Her forehead’s all creased, and I know she’s overthinking this.
“Okay, walk me through the conversation,” I say. “Was it just a Sorry, babe, my bad, let’s pretend it didn’t happen?”
She rolls her eyes. “He’s not you. He cares about these things.”
My head snaps back a little, stung, but she’s too lost in thought to notice.
Is that what she thinks of me?
That I’m not capable of caring about people just because I don’t want to be in a committed relationship?
“He just got wrapped up in work and school. Didn’t know how to balance it all,” Parker explains.
I frown, not at all liking the way Lance seems to compartmentalize his life. A guy lucky enough to have Parker as his girlfriend should be all consumed by her. She shouldn’t be a checkbox on his “balanced life” worksheet.
“So what changed?” I ask.
She shakes her hand free of mine, and then leans all the way forward so that she’s staring at the floor. “He realized he needs me. Loves me.”
I swallow. “And you need him? Love him?”
The words feel sour on my tongue, and my body feels tight, like it wants to physically reject the words. And especially wants to reject what her answer will be.
“I think so,” she says quietly.
I ignore the strange splintering feeling inside me. “You think?”
“I don’t know!” she says, exploding off the couch. “I…can we just go back to the beginning of the conversation? I want to choose mute. I need to think, and I can’t think with you chirping in my ear.”
My temper spikes. “Not thirty seconds ago you were begging me for my thoughts on this. It’s not like I’ve been sitting here dying to force my opinion on you.”
“Do you even have an opinion?” she shoots back. “On anything?”
“I’ve got plenty of them,” I say, fully angry now. “But not on this. This has nothing to do with me!”
My outburst hangs between us, and she nods. “Right. You’re right, of course. This has nothing to do with you. I’m sorry, I just…I’m overwhelmed is all.”
“I know,” I say quietly. “I’m sorry for yelling at you. Probably not helpful.”
Her smile is small and sad and she doesn’t meet my eyes.
“Parks?” Instinctively, I know there’s something more. Something she hasn’t said yet.
Something I’m not going to like.
She lifts her eyes to mine, and they’re wide and a little bit scared.
“Lance wants me to move in with him.”
There’s no air in the room. I can’t even breathe.
“What did you tell him?” I manage.
“That I needed some time.”
I nod. “What are you going to tell him?”
Her eyes never leave mine, pleading with me to understand. “I’m going to tell him yes.”
Chapter 25
Parker
“I still can’t even believe this,” Lori says as she studies my leopard print flats before seeing them carefully into a moving box. “It’s the end of an era.”
I swallow.
The end of an era indeed.
I’ve had the exact same thought a million times.
And then I had about a million more thoughts wondering if I could get out of it—if I could back out of moving in with Lance.
For a second, I want to tell Lori everything. I want to confide in someone that the only reason I said yes to Lance was because I was scared. Scared to death that if I stayed with Ben things would change, horribly.
Except they’re still changing horribly, only now I have to deal with the change minus a best friend.
But telling Lori any of this is bound to bring up questions I’m not ready to answer.
Questions about me. And Ben.
About what the hell happened that last night in Cannon Beach.
So instead I say nothing, and continue my self–pep talk that moving in with Lance is the right decision. The move-forward-with-my-life decision.
I don’t look up from where I’m wrapping all of my perfume bottles in Bubble Wrap. “Thanks for helping me pack.”
“Oh, of course,” she says with a wave of her hand. “This is the easy part. At least you have two dudes to help with the heavy stuff tomorrow.”
I say nothing, and she pauses. “Right? Ben’s helping? Because I love you, but no way am I going to ruin my new manicure by helping you move that freaking dresser.”
“I haven’t really asked,” I say, keeping my back to her so she can’t read my expression. “But, yeah, I’m pretty sure Ben will help Lance load up the truck tomorrow.”
I’m not sure of this at all.
It’s not that Ben and I aren’t talking. We are. We’ve been perfectly civil. We have to be, because until noonish tomorrow, we’re living together. And we still carpool to work together.
But in the two weeks since I told him that I was moving in with Lance, we haven’t really connected. Not mentally. Not emotionally. Definitely not physically.
Neither of us will admit that anything is wrong. But something is wrong, and I’m dying inside.
“Okay, hey, I need to talk to you about something,” Lori says, oh-so-carefully setting a pair of ancient flip-flops in the box like they’re Louboutins before plopping down on my bed.
“Sure,” I say, grateful for the change of topic. Anything to stop thinking about Ben.
“It’s about Ben,” she says.
Or not.
“Okay…” I say.
I have the sudden premonition that I’ll want to sit down for this, only to realize that I’m already sitting cross-legged on the floor. Crap. Maybe I should be holding on to somethi
ng.
“I’m going to ask him out. Ben. I’m going to ask out Ben,” she says.
Her voice is calm, matter-of-fact, and very, very clear, and yet it takes what feels like several minutes for her words to register in my brain.
“Lori—”
“No, I know what you’re going to say,” she interrupts. “That he’s a womanizing turd, and he’s going to break my heart because he doesn’t do relationships. But I like him, Parker. Enough that I want to risk it.”
“But—”
Lori’s smile is kind but firm. “Sweetie, with all due respect here, it’s not really up to you. I’m going to ask him to dinner. If he wants to say no, he can, but you don’t get to say it for him.”
I blink. She’s right, of course. I don’t get to decide with whom Ben goes on a date, but it’s just…it’s just…
Lori is studying me closer. “You’re okay with this, right? Because you’re sort of giving off this vibe like I’m breaking some sort of girl code or something—”
“No! I mean…of course I’m fine with it. It’ll be a little weird when—if—things don’t work out between you, but worst case I’ll just hang out with the two of you separately if that happens.”
She breathes a sigh of relief. “I’m glad. I mean, I know that you try to keep your girlfriends away from him, and I can’t even blame you, it’s just…I think about him all the time. And sometimes when we make eye contact I feel a little…something, you know?”
“Sure!”
My voice is too high, too hyper, but Lori doesn’t seem to notice.
Even though I don’t think Ben’s going to be dating anyone—even someone as great as Lori—I can’t stop the montage of hideous images from going through my head.
Lori and Ben holding hands. Kissing. The four of us on double dates.
Ugh.
Lori looks at her phone. “Oh, crap, how is it two already? My yoga class starts in twenty minutes. You cool if I ditch you? I can come back over later.”
I shake my head. “Don’t even worry about it. I’m mostly done. It’s just throwing the rest of the stuff in boxes. Plus, it’s not like I’m moving across the country. If I have to make a couple trips back here over the coming week to pick stuff up, I will.”