by Lauren Layne
“So Ben hasn’t found another roommate yet?”
I shake my head. “Not yet, but I think his friend John is a likely candidate. His lease is up in a month and he’s been looking for a cheaper option.”
“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m proud of you,” Lori says, pulling her bag over her shoulder. “Adorable as you and Ben are, you can’t do the Will and Grace thing forever, you know?”
I smile faintly. “If you’re hoping to coax Ben into a relationship, you’re probably not going to do it by comparing him to an iconic gay character. He likes the opposite sex too much.”
She waves this away. “You know what I mean, though. It’s good that you end it before you wind up codependent and sabotaging your other relationships. This is a smart move.”
I nod unenthusiastically. I’d been hearing that sentiment a lot lately. Casey, my mom, Lori, Lance…even my dad. Everyone seems in agreement that it’s time for me and Ben to “get on with our lives.”
Everyone seems thrilled by this new development, my moving in with Lance.
Everyone except me and Ben.
Lori leaves for yoga, and it’s just me and my depressed thoughts.
I should be excited.
The whole point of this move is a fresh start for me and Lance. A chance to commit to someone who loves me, and who wants me for more than booty calls and the occasional trip to IKEA.
So why do I feel like I’m in mourning?
There’s a not-so-soft knock at the door, and it opens even before I respond.
It’s Ben. “Hey.”
“Hey!” I say back. “Come on in!”
But, of course, he’s already inside, flopping down on my bed. “Thought I’d see if you need any help.”
I lift an eyebrow, and he looks sheepish. “I know. The offer’s a little late. It’s just…moving sucks, you know?”
It’s a cop-out, and we both know it, but since I haven’t exactly been myself lately, either, I let it go. I’m just glad that he’s here, and that things seem…well, not quite normal, but at least we’re talking.
“So what can I do?” he asks.
I point at the closet. “Finish packing my shoes? Lori started a box, but I swear it took her five minutes to place each pair just right—”
I watch as Ben scoops up an armful of shoes and dumps them unceremoniously into a box.
“I see that’s not going to be a problem with you,” I say dryly.
He grins, then repeats the motion. “How many shoes do you have, woman?”
“The fact that you added woman to the end of that sentence tells you all you need to know. A lot.”
“I hope Lance is prepared to clear out eighty percent of his closet,” Ben says, holding up a pink wedge and looking at it skeptically before throwing—yes, throwing—it into the box as well.
It’s the first time since I told him that I was moving in with Lance that Ben’s even mentioned my boyfriend’s name.
And yes, Lance is my boyfriend again. Not that we’ve, um, consummated that status, but I’m moving in with the guy. Of course he’s my boyfriend.
Still, I’d avoided having Lance come by the house as much as possible. The thought of seeing him and Ben in the same room is just too much.
“So, how happy are you to have a bathroom all to yourself?” I ask, my voice determinedly chipper. “All that hot water. Oh, and you’ll have complete control of the remote. And your beer won’t have to share the fridge with my champagne. And there won’t be any long dark hair clogging the shower drain, and—”
To my utter horror, my voice breaks then, and I realize that I can’t even see the necklaces I’ve been trying to untangle for the past two minutes because my eyes are so filled with tears.
“Hey, now,” Ben says, his voice panicked as he scoots my way and sinks to the floor next to me, popping a bunch of Bubble Wrap in the process. “What’s this?”
His finger catches a tear, and that makes me cry all the harder.
“I don’t know,” I say, my voice all hiccupy. “I just…I think…I don’t…”
He gently presses the backs of his fingers against my cheek. “I’ll miss you too, Parks.”
I look at him through my blurry vision. “I bought you some new bath towels. Lots of them. And I washed them all and put them under the sink in the bathroom so you’ll have a long supply of fresh ones. And I’ll call you every day to remind you not to—”
He puts a hand over my mouth. “Parker. Get it together, babe. You’re moving about five minutes away. It’s not like we’re never going to see each other again.”
“I know.” I wipe my runny nose with the back of my hand. “But it’ll be different. Won’t it?”
Ben has his knees pulled to his chest, his arms looped around his legs, and he looks down at his hands. “Yeah. It’ll be different.”
It’s not what I want him to say, and I cry harder before launching myself at him awkwardly, my arms wrapped tightly around his neck.
He tenses for a second, but then one arm goes around my back, the other into my hair. “You and your crying.”
“I know,” I whisper against his neck. “I’m a wreck.”
Being held by him feels right, and for the millionth time since I agreed to move in with Lance, I wonder if I’m doing the right thing.
I pull back so I can look into his eyes, and our faces are just inches apart. It’s weird to think that just a couple weeks ago, that would have put us in kissing position—a position we both would have taken advantage of.
It’s even weirder that I still want to.
Oh God. I absolutely, positively cannot still want Ben.
For starters. Lance.
Also…
Okay, I can’t think of another reason.
“Lori’s going to ask you out,” I blurt, desperate for something to derail the scary direction of my thoughts.
His eyebrows lift, although I don’t know if it’s from the sudden change of topic or the news itself. “Yeah?”
I nod. “I tried to warn her, but…she’s determined.”
His brow wrinkles. “What do you mean, warn her?”
“Prepare her,” I amend. “For when you say no.”
Ben is studying me, his face unreadable. “What makes you think I’d say no?”
“Well, I mean…she’s not asking you for a hookup,” I say, forcing a smile and batting his knee. “I’ve been telling you all along that Lori’s looking for a relationship. A real one.”
“Okay…” His tone indicates that he still doesn’t get it.
“She wants a boyfriend,” I say slowly, spelling it out for him.
I wait for it all to click into place so that he can assure me that no, he has absolutely zero intention of saying yes to Lori or any girl.
That he’ll continue to be his charming, one-night-stand-ish self.
Because while I don’t exactly relish the thought of him going back to sleeping with his bimbos, it’s a hell of a lot easier to picture that than him caring about someone else….
But Ben says none of those things. Instead he shrugs. “I like Lori.”
My mouth drops open. “You’re not actually thinking of saying yes.”
His laugh is short and a little harsh. “Well, I mean, it’s not like she’s proposing. So, yeah, if she asked me out, I’d say yes.”
“But—”
“I don’t want to be single forever, Parker.”
His voice is a little sharp, and mine is just as edgy when I snap back.
“Since when?”
I see his jaw clench in irritation, but I press on. “I mean, when have you ever given any indication that you wanted a girlfriend?”
“I don’t know, but damn. I’m allowed to change my mind, right? I mean, I’m not saying I’m going to go rushing into anything or doing ring shopping on weekends, but that doesn’t mean I’m not open to dating if the right girl comes along.”
My throat stings. I don’t understand why, but this little announcement
of his both surprises and wounds me.
Ben’s been waiting for the right girl?
I’d always assumed that he was just determinedly single. To think that he actually wants to be someone’s boyfriend—
It rocks the very foundation of who I thought he was.
Of who I thought we were.
It doesn’t make sense. Nothing makes sense anymore.
“You’re really going to date Lori?” I try to keep the bitchy note out of my tone, but fail miserably.
“What the hell is with this double standard?” he asks, pushing to his feet, his expression full-on angry now.
“What double standard?” I get to my feet as well so we’re facing off.
“The one where you get to have the boyfriend and the best friend, but I’m only allowed to have you?”
“No!” I say. “That’s not what that is, I just thought—”
He crosses his arms. “What? What did you think?”
I wince at his icy tone, but I can’t respond, because the answer that’s on the tip of my tongue will destroy us.
Because the crazy thought that keeps going through my head is that I can’t fathom the fact that Ben’s been waiting for the right girl…
Because it means that I’m not her.
All this time, I’ve never let myself think of Ben as boyfriend material, because I thought that he didn’t want that.
But that isn’t it at all.
He just doesn’t want me.
Which is fine. I don’t want him, either. I mean, we’re just friends who—
“Oh my God.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “We did it.”
“Did what?” His voice is still irritated.
I force myself to meet his dark eyes. “We messed up our friendship. We complicated it with sex.”
“That, or you complicated it by deciding to get back together with your asshole ex-boyfriend.”
“Hey!” I point a finger at him. “That is not fair. I asked your opinion on that, and you said—”
“It shouldn’t matter what I say!” Ben shouts. “You either want Lance, or you want—”
He breaks off, and rubs both hands through his hair, but I step forward. “I want Lance or I want whom?” I press.
It’s crazy how much I want him to finish that sentence.
Instead his arms drop to his side and his eyes shutter. “This is fucking nuts. I’m getting out of here.”
“Great plan. Run away when things get tough,” I say snidely. “I can see Lori’s a lucky girl. You’re going to make a really great boyfriend.”
Ben looks up then, and his eyes are ice-cold. Colder than I’ve ever seen them.
“I’ve got one word for you, Parker, but know that when I say it, I’m not saying that I want to go back to how things were before we were fuck buddies. When I say it, I’m saying that I don’t want to go back at all.”
I feel a stab of panic. “Ben—”
He holds up a hand. “No, listen. You’re right to move in with Lance. You need to move forward. But I need to move forward too, and I can’t do it with someone who thinks I’m nothing but a superficial, womanizing asshole. I can’t do it with someone who thinks she can have it all, but doesn’t want the same for me.”
“Wait, Ben—”
He leans forward so we’re eye to eye, and the look on his face is lethal as he utters the one word I never imagined hurting so much: our safe word.
“Cello.”
And just like that, my best friend walks out of my life.
Chapter 26
Ben
THREE WEEKS LATER
“You’re sure you’re okay with this?”
“For the last time, yes,” I say. Then I give Lori my best smile to soften the edge of my tone.
But seriously, she’d asked me about twenty times, in a dozen different ways, if I’m okay with this, and if I have to hear it one more time…
Of course I’m okay with this.
Why wouldn’t I be okay having dinner with my best friend—former best friend—and her live-in boyfriend?
Sounds great.
I open the door to the trendy Italian restaurant Lori’s been yammering about all week and allow her to go in first.
I’m not really big on all the crowds and hype around the “opening” of restaurants, but Lori knows someone who knows someone and acted like getting reservations on a Friday night was like the Heisman Trophy of eating or something, so I’m trying not to be a dick about it.
The place is noisy and packed, which I kind of hate, but it smells amazing, so I try to think positive.
Lori tells (shouts) our name to the frazzled hostess, who points to the back of the restaurant. Lori nods before beckoning me to follow her.
I take a deep breath and wind around the tiny, too-close-together tables, trying to brace myself for what’s to come.
And then I see her.
I see Parker, and all thoughts of thinking positive about the evening fly out the window.
I don’t think I can do this.
But, of course, I have to.
Lori and I have been on a handful of dates now, and I’m officially out of excuses for dodging this double date.
Parker and Lance stand as we get closer.
Parker so that she can hug Lori, Lance so that he can shake my hand in that weird, man-to-man thing that guys do.
If Lance or Lori notice that Parker and I don’t say hello, much less hug, neither says anything.
“This place looks amazing,” Parker gushes as we all sit down around the too-small table. She and Lori are sitting across from each other against the wall, with me across from Lance on the outside.
This leaves Parker and me kitty-corner from each other, which I guess is as good as can be expected given the circumstances, but it still feels too close.
Lori doesn’t know about our fight, and from the placid look on Lance’s face, I suspect he doesn’t know, either, so we’ll have to play nice.
And since Parker’s currently talking, playing nice means looking at her. Pretending to listen.
She’s wearing a black sleeveless top with a low scoop neck and a bunch of layered necklaces. Nothing special. Her hair’s pulled back in a long ponytail, her makeup all smoky and Friday-night-out-ish.
She looks amazing, and that pisses me off. I don’t want her to be miserable—not really—but I don’t exactly need her to look like that, either. All pretty and glowing and…happy.
“I’m so glad we could do this,” Lori is saying, because oh my God are we still talking about the restaurant? “We could have gotten a better time next weekend, but obviously that won’t work with Ben going back to Michigan.”
Parker glances at me in surprise. “You’re going home?”
And then it’s Lori and Lance’s turn to look surprised, because normally—as in before—Parker would have known that not-so-little detail about my life.
I take a sip of water. “It was too expensive to fly on Thanksgiving, so I’m going back the weekend before. It’ll appease the parents without blowing my entire savings account on a plane ticket.”
“Right, of course,” she murmurs.
I suspect that she, more than anyone, knows how much I’m dreading the trip.
And, yes, I know that’s an awful thing to say. I hardly ever see my parents, and putting in some time at the winter holidays really isn’t too much to ask.
It’s just that I always come away from trips home feeling woefully inadequate. Four straight days of passive-aggressive versions of So, when are you going to stop messing around? will do that to you.
“I hear you,” Lance is saying. “My parents are paying for me and Parker to fly to Boston for Thanksgiving, so expenses aren’t a problem, but, man, I hate traveling on the holidays.”
It’s my turn to glance at Parker in surprise, but she’s staring at the candle on the table and won’t look at me.
Thanksgiving in the Blanton household is a big deal.
I mean, all families like
to be together on turkey day, but Thanksgiving is Sandra Blanton’s favorite holiday, so she goes all out.
More than even Christmas.
I can’t believe Parker’s going to miss it to spend it with Lance’s family.
Lance, who dumped her just a couple months ago. Lance, who—
My thoughts are interrupted by our server, who rattles off five specials of things I’ve never heard of before taking our much-needed drink order and disappearing, once again leaving the four of us in awkwardness.
At least it’s awkward for me.
Lori and Lance seem to be continually oblivious to the fact that they’re carrying the entire conversation.
Probably because Lori is really good at talking.
I’ve learned this about her in the two weeks since we started “dating,” if you’d call it that.
Not that it’s a big deal. Just a couple dinners. Lunch together at work. She came over the other night and watched a movie.
And yet…no sex. Nothing even close to sex.
I can tell she’s puzzled, but she hasn’t really pressed. I feel a little guilty. I’m pretty sure she thinks that I haven’t made a move out of some gentlemanly sentiments, but the truth is…
I haven’t been interested in sex with Lori. Or with anyone.
I glance at Parker and Lance, wondering how their sex life is, only to realize that the thought destroys my appetite. Since the supposedly excellent food at this place is likely to be the only good part of the evening, I push the thought away.
Things go pretty well through our first round of drinks.
And through appetizers. It’s right after our main dishes are served that they start to go downhill.
“So, Ben,” Lance says, cutting a bite of his steak and then glancing up at me. “I’ve gotta say, when Parker told me that you and Lori were dating, I practically fell out of my chair.”
“Gosh, thanks, Lance,” Lori says sarcastically.
“Not because of you, honey,” he says with a little wink. “It’s just I always thought Ben here had no intention of dating.”
“Wonder where you got that idea?” I say with a pointed look at Parker.
She pauses in the process of winding pasta around her fork and narrows her eyes at me. “I’m pretty sure he picked it up from your track record. Because, remind me, when’s the last time you saw the same girl for more than one night in a row? Is it four years ago now? Or five? And didn’t you cheat on her—”