The Friend Zone

by Kristen Callihan

  I bite my lip so hard it hurts, tiny sounds making their way through my clenched teeth, little whimpers I can’t hold back as he works me over in a slow, torturous circle. My ass grinds back against his stiff cock, and he rocks his erection into me.

  Silent, barely moving, we lie there, our bodies trembling, Gray fingering me. Lower he goes, sliding over my sex, down to my opening. I’m panting now, my skin covered in a sheen of sweat. I’m so close to coming, my head spins.

  As if he can feel the orgasm rising within me, Gray presses his lips to my bare shoulder and holds me tight as his thick finger enters me, deep. I can’t help it, I groan, my hips canting into his touch. He fucks me with his finger, and everything goes fuzzy. There is just him invading me and the undulating rhythm of my hips. I’m whimpering, my flesh so hot and pulsing. I come on a wave of heat and helpless cries, my body twitching, trapped in the clutch of his arm.

  “Fuck, honey,” he rasps. “Fuck.” And then his hand is sliding away. He’s turning me, his fingers threading through my hair.

  He looks in pain, his gaze darting over my face as if he wants to say something. But he doesn’t. His attention drifts to my mouth, and, God, I feel him there, as if he’s already kissing me, already taking my mouth the way I know he wants to. My lips thrum with need. I lick them, tip my chin up so I can get closer. I want a taste of him so badly. A tortured sound escapes him, his broad chest lifting and falling on a hitched breath. “Ivy.”

  His mouth finds mine, and I’m lost.

  That first touch is a sonic blast, sending a wave of heat through me so hard and fast that I lose my breath. I gain it back on a sigh of sheer pleasure. His lips are softer than I’d imagined, firm yet tender. He skims them over the hypersensitive corner of my mouth, finds the plump swell of my lower lip and nuzzles it.

  I feel it in my spine, between my legs. And maybe he feels the same because he makes a low, almost growling sound in his throat and kisses me again, firmer this time, demanding more.

  “What are we doing?” I whisper between quick, searching kisses that mold my lips. We’re both shaking so hard, it’s enough to make us frantic, uncoordinated, noses and chins bumping as we desperately come at each other again and again.

  “I don’t know… Oh, shit, Mac, you taste so good.” His tongue touches mine, a savoring glide of velvet warmth. “Just one more.” He groans, licks into my mouth like he’s lapping up honey. “One more taste.”

  Gray leans into me, his broad chest crushed against my breasts, as he ducks his head and kisses me deep. Opening my mouth wide and taking what he needs. He’s shaking, his voice rough when he speaks. “I’ve wanted this… Wanted to taste you for so long. It’s all I think about. Fuck, that’s good. One more, honey. One more.”

  My arms wrap around his neck, holding on as he pulls back, comes at me from another angle, over and over. He’s making a study of my mouth, discovering every inch of it. And it gets me so hot, I’m panting, my skin drawing tight. “Once isn’t going to be enough.”

  Gray shudders, his grip clenching on my nape. “You’re right. Don’t stop. Give me your mouth, honey.” He suckles my bottom lip, licks along my upper lip. “Let me take care of you for a while.”

  His kisses turn messy, opening me wide enough that I feel the stretch in my jaw. My mouth is being fucked by his tongue. Raw and raunchy and so good that I moan, close my eyes and fuck him back like I’ll die if we stop. I just might.

  Gray’s big body shifts as if he can’t keep still. With a noise of impatience, he pushes his thick thigh against my sex, nudging the sensitive flesh there. And I groan, my legs clamping down on the muscled length. The hard throb of his erection is at my hip, demanding my attention. “Gray. What are we doing?” I’m seconds away from begging him to fuck me hard and fast against the mattress.

  His hand slides down my back, drawing me closer. “Don’t think,” he says, not leaving my mouth. “It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t have to matter.”

  It takes a second for his words to sink in. And then they do. Realization surges like an ice-cold wave, stealing my breath and making the walls of my chest clench. We’re just fooling around. At least in Gray’s eyes. And I thought…

  Another wave hits me, this one hot with humiliation. I’m emotionally invested. Completely.

  So stupid. Especially since Gray has flat-out told me that sex is just sex to him. I know he cares about me. But that what we’re doing doesn’t matter to him in the same way it does to me makes my insides roll.

  He doesn’t notice I’ve gone still. Almost roughly, he palms my ass as he kisses a path along my jaw. “Mmm… So good. Why did we wait so long to do this?”

  Yes, why? When we could have been friends with benefits all along, have a quick fuck whenever the mood struck us?

  I can’t breathe. I need to breathe. His big body pressed against mine is no longer a comfort but a weight I can’t bear. My stomach lurches. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

  It’s enough to make him pause and lift his head in shock.

  Wrenching free, I scramble from the bed and sprint to the bathroom just as Gray calls out to me.

  Ignoring him, I slam the door behind me and lock myself in the safety of the bathroom a second before Gray catches up to me. A thud vibrates the door as if he’s bumped into it, and I hear his muffled curse.

  “Ivy.” His voice is urgent. Worried. “Ivy, what—”

  “I’m okay,” I practically shout. I’m not. Nausea has me panting and my face is too hot. I lean against the door, pressing my cheek to the cool wood. I want to sink down and curl up into a ball.

  God, I’m so stupid. So weak, letting sex cloud my judgment. I can’t do casual. My heart is already invested.

  Gray’s voice is so close I know he’s leaning against the door too. “Talk to me, Mac. Please. You’re kind of freaking me out here.”

  My eyes close. What do I say? I don’t even know what to think right now. Only that his words are spinning in my head. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t have to matter. The slickness between my legs and the residual tenderness from my orgasm has me shuddering and pressing my thighs together as if I can blot out what he’d done to me and how perfect it had felt.

  Gray speaks again. “Ivy, honey, I know that was unexpected.” He gives a wry laugh. “And not exactly within the bounds of friendship, but—”

  “Stop,” I blurt out, panic and regret surging once more. “Just please stop talking.”

  I can’t stand hearing him say those words again, that the best feeling of my life didn’t matter to him the way it mattered to me. I’ll scream.

  “All right,” he says slowly. Another scratch against the door has me wondering if he’s put his hand to it. “But can you come out? I need to see that you’re okay.”

  I hate the worry in his voice. Because it means he knows I’m way more affected by this than he is. It grates. And there is no fucking way I’m facing him right now.

  “Look,” I say to the door. “I just need a moment to myself. Could you…” I lick my dry lips. “Could you just go home?”

  Silence is heavy. When Gray finally answers, he sounds pained. “Ivy… Don’t send me away. I’m sorry that I—”

  “No!” My shout echoes in the bathroom. “No more, Gray. I can’t talk about this now. I can’t.” Tears prickle behind my eyes. I’m so humiliated. I just want the door to swallow me up. “Not right now. Okay? Just. Go.”

  He’s silent, but I can feel his resistance like a heavy hand against my skin.

  “Go,” I insist again. “We’ll talk tomorrow, I swear. I just need to be alone right now.” My voice warbles with the plea.

  And I almost cry in relief when he sighs, and his low voice grinds out, “Okay, Mac. I’ll go. Just… Call me soon. I… Shit, I don’t like leaving you this way.” When I don’t answer, he sighs again. “All right.”

  And then there is silence. I press my heels against my hot eyes and realize how very much I’ve grown to hate silence.

  S
eventeen

  Gray

  IvyMac: Meet me at 1? At Java Cup?

  GrayG: Will do.

  One text. That’s all I get from Ivy. I’ve held off from calling her, hunting her down, because I’d promised. But it’s been hell. I’m so twitchy, I could burst out of my skin. I can all but feel Ivy thinking things through. And it terrifies me, because I also feel her slipping away.

  I hope it’s simple paranoia that has me tied up in knots. But Ivy asking me to meet her in a coffee shop instead of at her house or mine isn’t a good sign. Like she needs neutral territory. Hell.

  I get there early, securing a table in the back corner. Normally not a huge coffee drinker, I’m on my second cup by the time she arrives at eight p.m. on the dot.

  The first sight of her steals my breath. It’s that instantaneous—I look at Ivy, and I cannot breathe properly. Those dark eyes, that kissable rosebud mouth, those cheeks that I want to cup as I taste her.

  God, I’ve slid my fingers over her sweet, slick clit, all plump and sensitive to my touch. I’ve made her come with my hand. Heat shivers over my skin at the memory. The tips of my fingers throb, and my heartbeat is in my throat as she approaches, her gaze not meeting mine but focused somewhere around my shoulder. It hurts that she won’t truly look at me. It hurts that she’s so unsure. I’ve done this to her.

  Dressed in black jeans and a gray turtleneck sweater, she also looks as though she’s trying to hide all the skin she can. Fucking hell.

  It had hurt more than expected when she’d torn away from me and locked herself in the bathroom. Hope and happiness had crumbled within me. Now there’s nothing but a hollow cavern in my chest. I need to fix things with Ivy.

  On shaking legs, I rise to greet her, fumbling the move when I reach out to… What? Kiss her cheek, give her a hug? I don’t know. I just want to touch her and reassure her that everything will be okay. It doesn’t matter because the moment I lean in, she’s ducking into her seat with a quick “Hey.”

  She makes a pretense of being worried about spilling her coffee, setting it down with undue care as I sit across from her. But her continued focus on the table sends a punch of dull pain through my center.

  “You’re not going to look at me now?” I ask in a low voice.

  At that, her head snaps up, her dark eyes wide and pained. “No. I mean, of course. Sorry. I’m just…” She trails off with a bite to her lower lip.

  “I know.” Resting my arms on the table, I lean in. “I’m sorry, Ivy. I shouldn’t have—”

  “Hey, Grayson,” a guy at my elbow butts in. I hadn’t even notice him approaching. But he’s grinning down at me as his friend hovers at his side. The bright red university sweaters they’re wearing are my first tipoff as to why they’re here. The guy slaps my shoulder like he knows me. “Great season, man. You guys are gonna crush it in the playoffs.”

  “Go Dogs!” the other guy yells. And I fight back a wince.

  More than anything, I want to tell these two to fuck off. Can’t they see I’m talking about something important? But I don’t. Fans are fans and they have my gratitude. I give them a nod. “Thanks. Thanks a lot.” I try to make it clear that I’m in the middle of something, but one of them wants me to autograph his baseball cap. Quickly I sign it and turn my attention back to Ivy.

  Thankfully they amble away.

  Ivy watches them go before acknowledging me.

  “No, don’t apologize,” she pleads glancing up at me and then back to her cup. “I shouldn’t have freaked out like that. It was totally immature.”

  My hand covers hers, and she flinches. But I don’t let go because I need to touch her. My voice is as soft and comforting as I can make it. “It’s okay, Mac.”

  Her shoulders lift on a breath and then she sits back in her chair, sliding her hand from mine as she goes. Her lashes conceal her eyes as she slowly turns her cup in her hands. For lack of anything better to do, I clutch my cup as well. The heat of the coffee seeps through the cardboard and warms my icy fingers.

  I don’t know what to say or how to start the conversation.

  I open my mouth to try.

  “Hey.” A girl is now standing next to me. “You’re Gray Grayson.”

  She’s looking at me like I’m a latte she’d like to drink down. Irritation spikes. This is why I didn’t want to meet Mac in public. Not when football fever has hit an all-time high on the campus. I’m about to give this chick the brush off when Mac slaps her free hand on the table.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Gray,” she says to me in exasperation. “Irritable bowel syndrome is treatable. There’s no need to fear. It’s the rampant gas that you really should worry about, because, dude, it’s bad.”

  Her words hang in the air, and I gape at her, shock and horror tingling through my skin. The girl pretty much does the same before her face goes beet red and she backs away from me.

  “I…uh…I’ll leave you to your conversation,” she gets out.

  I don’t answer. I can only stare at Mac. Part of me wants to strangle her. I can just imagine how fast this little nugget of gossip will spread. I can hear my nickname now, Gaseous Gray. “So…social annihilation is on the menu today, huh?”

  Flushing, she shrugs. “Got rid of her, didn’t it?”

  The little shit. I bark out a laugh. Whatever has happened between us, she’s still my best friend. The one person I want to be with most in the world. And I adore her. I’m so gone on her, I don’t know my left from my right anymore. She’s my center line. All thoughts run through Ivy Mackenzie.

  I reach out for her, ready to tell her just that. Tell her that I want everything with her. That she is my everything.

  But she speaks first, her words coming out fast and tight. “Things got out of hand. It happens. We’ve been in each other’s pockets, seeing each other all the time. And if we just stepped back and took a break from that, not hang out so much…” She spreads her hands as if to say, problem solved, no big deal.

  Take a break. Not be together so much.

  Hurt slams through me so hard that my knee jerks, hitting the underside of the table and almost knocking it over.

  “Sorry,” I mutter, as she scrambles to keep her cup from falling.

  I want to shout at her that this is the worst fucking idea she’s ever come up with. That taking a break sounds like torture. But she’s not finished ripping my heart out.

  “And if you’re not always with me, you can…you know… go out. With girls. Hook up or whatever.”

  I’d like to think her expression conveys the same misery as I feel. But I can’t be sure. I can no longer think straight. “Kind of hard to do that,” I snap. “When the entire campus will soon think I have a flatulence problem.”

  She cringes. “Right. Sorry. But I doubt anyone will believe it. Or even care. Most women obviously would overlook anything to get to you.”

  Oh. Joy. I don’t give a ripe fuck what other women believe. I don’t want to be with anyone other than Ivy. Her helpful comment makes me want to scream. And then another horrible thought hits me.

  “Wait, why are we talking about hook ups?” My voice is rising, along with my panic.

  Her gaze slides away from mine. “Well… We’re both clearly in need of some sexual relief. Why shouldn’t we find it—”

  “Am I cramping your style? Blocking you from all these potential dates you have lined up?” I don’t even know what I’m saying. Panic has me by the balls. She’s slipping away from me, and I can’t seem to hold on.

  Her eyes narrow. “You think I can’t get a date?”

  “Hey, I did not say that.”

  The tension leaves her with a sad sigh, and she slumps a little. “This is getting off track, and we’re sniping at each other, which is not what I wanted.”

  I rake a hand through my hair and blow out a long breath through my nose. “Are you…” I take another breath. “Do you want to go out on dates?” I’m going to be sick. I’m going to fucking throw up. All over fucking Jav
a Cup.

  Her lips pinch. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s time that I do.”

  Mac. On a date.

  The cup in my hand crumples, sending hot coffee splattering every which way.

  “Shit.” I jump up, shaking coffee off my hand.

  Mac jumps up as well, grabbing napkins to mop the mess, until she sees my hand. “Did you burn yourself?”

  She touches my reddened hand, but I snatch it away. “I’m good.” My throat is closing in on me. I can’t be here. I back away, tripping over the leg of a chair before righting myself.

  “Gray,” she says in a soft plea. “I’m just trying to fix things.”

  “Use me,” I blurt out.

  Ivy stills, the space between her brows furrowing. “What?”

  “You want to fuck someone. Fuck me.”

  She rears as though I’ve spit on her face. “Are you kidding me?”

  “No,” I snap, a little desperate now. “You want to have sex. Have sex with me.”

  “We. Are. Friends.” She enunciates every word through her clenched teeth as color rises over her face.

  “Oh, please, Ivy. You came on my fingers. I think we’re way past just friends.”

  Bad route to go. Bad fucking route.

  Her face flames red, her nostrils flaring. “You asshole. You think because you got an orgasm out of me that I’m now some sort of easy lay—”

  “No, Ivy. No.” Fisting my hands at my sides, I lean in, lowering my voice. “That is not what I meant, okay? Just that we’re obviously attracted to each other. And there’s this tension. So why not alleviate it by—”

  “No,” she hisses. “Screwing around will ruin everything. Not to mention that you’re one of my dad’s potential clients.”

  A sharp breath shoots through my lungs, as if she sucker-punched the air out of me. “Your dad? You’re worried about my relationship with your dad?”