by Mika Jolie
Except when the act is with someone we care about.
Then we zip our lips. Which is what I’m doing now. What Cori and I shared went beyond a hook-up. Don’t get me wrong. Had things turned out differently— you know—if Cori and I were still banging, I’d be standing here with pride, announcing my days as a bachelor are over and the pathetic bastards were now on their own.
Unfortunately, or fortunately—depends on the perspective—I’m still free as a bird. Which means, I can sleep with any woman out there, on any given day, without any remorse.
Somehow, that thought fails to cheer me up. If anything, loneliness squeezes my heart.
“Are we eating or what?” Turning on my heels, I start walking ahead of them out of Lucas’ office.
“Cranky, much,” Lucas says as they catch up with me. “Time of the month?”
“According to a report done back in 2004, a quarter of men confessed to having man period,” Cam adds.
“I don’t fall in the quarter.”
Cam snorts. “So you say.”
Lucas stops midstride, examines my face. “Is this related to Cori?”
“Oh, about that, he still hasn’t told Cori about Red.”
“Jesus.” I scratch my left brow. “Stop talking as if I’m not right here.”
“Our trip is—” Lucas taps his temple—”oh, three days away. Just tell her, you fucking idiot.”
“What does it matter?” I push the door open to the lounge and press the down arrow elevator button. “We’re friends. Nothing more.”
“Is that what you want?” Cam asks, surprisingly serious.
No, that’s not what I want. But marriage . . . A knot twists in my gut. “Yes.”
This is what I call coping. The process of turning shit into sunshine.
“Friends. Lovers. Or Nothing.”
HALFWAY THROUGH THE WEEK, I break down and call Cori. The phone rings. I drum my fingers on the table. My stomach is filled with butterflies of nervousness as I wait for her to answer. After three rings, I am ready to hang up, when she answers.
“Hey,” she says, out of breath. “Good to hear from you.”
Just hearing her voice makes me feel giddy, blissful, like a kid in a candy store. “Can you meet for lunch?”
“Oh,” she says after a slight hesitation.
I can see her chewing on her lower lip.
“I’m on my way out,” she says softly on the other end.
Hope dashes.
There’s a moment of silence on the line before she adds, “Meeting with a friend.”
Code word for a date.
“Brandon.” His name slips out of my mouth before I can stop myself. A tinge of the green-eyed monster creeps up on me over the thought he’s still in the picture. Believe it or not, engaging in lovemaking with your sexy best friend makes some people feel territorial. I’m officially the jealous friend, ex—something.
Jealousy sucks. Period.
“Yes,” she confirms.
My heart smashes and splinters into a million pieces, each one cutting my chest and right through my body. Numb. I close my eyes for a moment, count to three hundred, then say with as much indifference as I can muster, “Alright, I’ll let you go then.”
“Dean.”
“Yeah.” I am officially dead inside.
“Is there something you wanted to talk about?”
“No,” I lie. After a few days of back and forth, last night I woke the fuck up and realized Lorraine was right; I need to let Cori know how I feel, and today was going to be the day I put myself out there. Joke’s on me. No need to unpack my emotions. Brandon is still in her life—a clear indication we’re not compatible. “See you on Friday.”
“SOMEHOW, I’VE ALWAYS pictured you owning a two-seater convertible,” Red is saying as we’re driving down I-95. The road ahead of us is covered in a thick layer of snow.
“Not a truck, huh?” I ask over the tires rumbling on the road.
“Nope.”
“You’re right, this is my parents’.” Due to the weather conditions, I had to borrow my parents’ truck for the weekend. One bad thing about a sleek sports car, they’re shit in bad weather. “But why do you peg me as a two-seater car owner?” This is my attempt at small talk with Red during this long-ass drive. I’m well aware of all the stereotypes. I’m sure you’ve read or heard them as well. You know, the bullshit about guys with flashy sports cars are overcompensating for other, uh, shortcomings in their lives. “And don’t say, owning a sporty vehicle of choice is really just a rolling phallic symbol that screams, ‘Please, please notice me!’”
She lets out a low laugh. “We both know you’re not lacking.”
I stay quiet. Whatever I say will not be received well. We’re two hours into our drive to New Hampshire. For the most part, the drive has been decent.
Except, everything tells me we’re approaching dangerous territory.
“Speaking of not lacking.” She shifts her body and leans towards me. Her greedy fingers are already on my thigh heading straight for my crotch.
I take one of my hands from the steering wheel, catch hers and place it back on her lap.
“Wow, talk about a rejection.”
In case you’re wondering, my dick is still sulking. Last night, I jacked off thinking about Cori—that had made the bastard happy. “Sorry about that,” I say sincerely, because I’ve realized that I’ve hurt her. Call me an asshole all you want, but I don’t enjoy hurting anyone.
“Is it because of her?”
“Her?” I ask, hands clenched tight around the wheel.
“Your friend, Coriander.”
Regardless of what I want, Cori’s place in my life is a hybrid of bestie, ex, and one-night stand. “I just want to ski.” My melancholy mood continues to hang over me like a black cloud, raining my personal sorrow down on me wherever I go. Taking my eyes off the road for a brief moment, I glance over at Red. Her head is turning toward the road.
Another woman I’ve hurt.
My heart constricts as realization punches me in the gut.
I’m using her for my own selfish need to get through the weekend. This isn’t about sex. That was never my intent, even before Cori and I had sex. But taking her with me is bringing an innocent party into my chaos.
When did I become such a self-centered asshole?
I should have come forward and canceled with Red.
Nothing good is going to come from two days under the same roof with a woman whose name I don’t even know and the woman I love.
“Oh, him? We’re just friends.”
A LITTLE OVER FOUR HOURS later, I park the truck in front of the cabin, next to Lucas’ SUV. Red is on her cell in a conversation with one of her colleagues about work. I signal to her that I’ll get our bags, then swing the door open.
An icy blast of late February air slaps my face. My boots sink in the soft powdery snow as I trudge over to the trunk. This is the type of snow we skiers thrive for. Typically, I am filled with excitement, a rush to conquer the mountains. However, today, my body is overwhelmed with a cold, prickly, burning sensation. I am a puddle of nerves about this visit. In a few seconds, Cori and I will come face-to-face again after a week of barely talking to each other.
A part of me is saying, fuck it, get back in the truck, turn that shit around, and go home. In this weather, driving back isn’t an option. Ignoring the pinch in my gut, I shake my head, disallowing my second thoughts to get the better of me. I sling Red’s overnight bag over my shoulder and open her door. “Ready?”
She raises a finger. “Just need a few minutes to finish this call.”
I nod. “Okay. Let me bring the bags in. Take your time.”
“Be there in five.”
Bags in hand, I head to the cabin. As the door stands towering above me, I gleam over the naked, winter trees, twisting and turning. My stomach twirls and twines with them. I let out a shaky breath, closing my weary eyes for a couple of seconds.
White
knuckles grip the doorknob, the cold metal sending a shiver up my already quivering arm. Deep breaths. Almost mindlessly, I turn the handle, opening the door to the fate that awaits.
I pause at the doorway, letting my eyes roam the room before anyone notices we’ve arrived. At least this way, my mind has a few more minutes longer to prepare.
Kate and Lucas are sitting on the floor by the fireplace, engrossed in a game with his daughter, Emma. Cam is lounging on the sofa, flipping the channels of the television, before settling on a college basketball game.
No sign of Cori.
She’s here. I know that, because she drove with Kate. Then a possibility I never entertained entered my thoughts. Brandon. What if she came here with Brandon?
I swallow the bitter tang from my mouth. Yes, that’s pretty ballsy and completely selfish of me to worry about coming face-to-face with Brandon when I have Red with me. Even though there’s zero possibility of sleeping with her, I still brought her along.
So yeah, I get it. I’m a douche.
Don’t worry, I’m sick of myself, sick of who I am as well.
My mind is still reeling with all sorts of inane possibilities, when I catch the legs of Cori’s jeans rushing down the stairs. She stops and meets my gaze, her eyes sparkling with delight. Before I can say anything, she’s in my arms, greeting me with a hug that can melt the snow outside.
Warmth radiates through my body.
“I’ve missed you.” Her words are soft vibrations of verbal melody. Her warm breath caresses my neck. Goosebumps bloom along my skin. My heart ricochets, bouncing off the walls of my rib cage.
“Ditto, Moonchild.”
The bags fall on the floor by my feet. I let my eyes close for a moment as I wrap my arms around her soft curves, clinging to her as if she’s my lifeline, letting her seep through my bones.
She feels so good in my arms.
And then it happens.
My short-lived moment of happiness slips out of my hands like an eel.
Cori’s body grows tense.
A bad feeling slithers up the back of my neck. I hold on to her, wishing time would freeze.
Gently, but with firmness, her palms press against the sleeve of my puffer jacket. Corded muscles of my biceps bunch as she pulls out of my arms. Her gaze slips to Red standing next to me. And all I can do is watch Cori’s rigid posture as the shine dims from her eyes.
“Cori, this is . . .” my voice trails because I don’t even know the name of this woman standing beside me. A stab of self-loathing tears off little chunks of my heart and soul.
“Hi,” Cori interrupts me, her attention on Red. “I’m Coriander.”
I realize what she’s doing. She knows I don’t know my companion’s name.
Way to go, Dean! Give the man the Douche of the Year Award.
“Meredith.” The two women shake hands.
Meredith. I store her name away in my mental file.
“You’re as beautiful as I’ve imagined,” Meredith adds.
“Thank you.” A faint, genuine smile appears on Cori’s lips. I wait for her to glance my way, but she doesn’t look at me.
A wave of nausea rises and falls in my stomach. But I don’t have time to react, because Cam is on his feet. He drops the remote on the sofa, arches a brow in my direction, silently letting me know I’m a complete dick.
Duly noted.
“Just gonna stand there, or coming in?” he asks, voice dry.
Lucas and Kate slowly rise to their feet, along with Emma. Their gazes swivel from Meredith to me. Lucas’ expression is blank. For a brief moment, I catch my sister’s eyes widen in surprise, before replacing it with a polite smile.
“Uncle Dean!” The hushed atmosphere is punctured by Emma’s enthusiastic greeting.
I manage a short laugh, crouch down to my knees and open my arms for her hug. “Hey. Good to see you. Did you get taller?” I ask once she’s out of my arms, and I’m back on my feet.
“Daddy said I grew an inch.” I hear the pride in Emma’s voice.
“Stop growing. I’m not ready to deal with you as a tween yet.” Even though my attention is on Emma, I am aware of Cori’s every move. From the pasted-on smile, to the way she scrapes a hand through her hair.
Emma laughs. “What’s a tween?”
“Well, that’s the stage before becoming a teenager,” Red says next to me.
Shit, I’ve completely forgotten about her.
“Oh, thank you.” Emma smiles then turns her brilliant green eyes on me. “Are you a friend of Uncle Dean?” she asks innocently.
“Yes, sort of,” Red answers with a warm smile. “And you are?”
“Emma. My dad—” She looks over her shoulder at Lucas, who is now standing behind her, along with Kate. “—and Uncle Dean are best friends.”
I take off my black puffer jacket and hang it on the hook by the door, then my gaze zones in on Cori. Last time we saw each other was almost a week ago, and I can’t take my eyes off her.
I slowly appraise her disheveled appearance—the faded jeans containing a few paint spots from her days in the studio, the mismatched socks I gave her as a stocking stuffer for Christmas, the beige, oversized sweater that buries her slim frame, her unruly mess of dark hair that my fingers are aching to be burrowed in.
“Well, nice to meet you, Emma.” Meredith’s voice snaps me out of my stupor. “I love your name.”
Lucas, Kate, and Cam introduce themselves. Afterward, Cam returns his attention to the basketball game.
“Thank you.” Emma whips her head of dark hair in Cori’s direction. “I thought you were Uncle Dean’s girlfriend.”
A dead, cold silence hovers over the room. Everything seems to go in slow motion, spinning like a top as everyone gazes at me, their blurred bodies creating waves on my vision.
“No, honey,” Cori’s voice slices through the silence. “Dean and I aren’t boyfriend and girlfriend.”
“Oh.” Emma tilts her head to look at Cori. “Then what are you guys?”
“Oh, we’re just friends,” Cori answers.
Her words, though somewhat truthful, are too indifferent. They seep into me, turning my emotions jagged, my insides tight.
“Hey.” Lucas glances at his watch then lowers his gaze at Emma. “Why don’t we have a tea party in the kitchen and give Uncle Dean and Meredith some time to settle?”
“Oh, yes!” Emma’s upturned face is beaming. Her attention now fully on her tea party with her father.
Kate laughs. “Can I come?”
Emma slips one tiny hand in Kate’s. “Of course.” She hesitates for a moment and looks at her dad. “Is that okay, Dad? I mean it’s usually just the two of us, but I think Kate will have fun.”
Lucas chuckles. “Of course. Let’s go.” They head for the kitchen, stop. “Come on, Cam.” Lucas says over his shoulder. “Come drink imaginary tea with us.”
Cam groans. “I thought we were heading out for real drinks.”
“In a minute,” Lucas says, voice firm. “Let’s go.”
Cam clicks the television off, then disappears, along with everyone else, leaving me alone with Cori and Meredith.
“Um.” Cori is the first to speak. “I’m going to join them.” She turns on her heels, stops, and fixes her eyes on Meredith. “Welcome, Meredith.” Briefly she glances in my direction. “We’re heading out for dinner. Joining us?”
This is where I should claim fatigue, fake a headache or another malady, rather than put the three of us through any more hell. Instead I hear myself answer, “Yeah, give us ten minutes.”
“A broken friendship can be a comma, or a full stop.”
THE BEER BOTTLE DANGLES BETWEEN my fingers. I’m sandwiched between Red . . . Meredith, and my sister. I sit in silence, taking in the scene. The local restaurant is fairly dark, but in a cozy, homey sort of way. The conversation around the table changes from one subject to another, quick as the movement of some wild animal.
Everyone is having a good time,
even Meredith. The tension from earlier seems to have melted away. Yet, I feel painfully out of place, like a pepperoni that had mistakenly made its way onto a vegetarian pizza.
“Do you still have friends in California?” Meredith asks Cam, after he finishes a story about his former life back in San Francisco.
“A few.” Cam answers. “One of my good friends still lives there.”
“Reagan.” Lucas drapes one arm over the back of Kate’s chair, who is holding a sleeping Emma. “Your college sweetheart.”
“For the, oh I don’t know, millionth time, we’re friends,” Cam says good-naturedly. Nothing ruffles Cam’s feathers; the guy is always cool as a cucumber. Must be the surfing lifestyle he embodies so well.
Reagan’s role in Cam’s life is an on-going debate between my two friends. Lucas thinks Cam secretly wants her. Cam disagrees. Once in a while, I join in the torture for the kick of watching Cam squirm. Truthfully, I do think the dude has it bad for his friend, but what does it matter? They are thousands of miles away. And based on the last update, she’s in a serious relationship with an actor. One of those that’s not quite an A list, but well on his way.
“She’s hot as sin,” Lucas continues, pushing our friend’s buttons. “I have a trip to San Francisco in a few weeks. Why don’t you give me her info? I’ll take her out to dinner.”
“Have you forgotten she’s in a relationship?”
Lucas shrugs. “No, but I can make her forget.”
Kate elbows Lucas. Cam flips him the bird.
Satisfied, Lucas laughs then says, “Men and women can’t be friends.”
“We’re friends,” Kate points out.
“You’re also one of my best friends’ sister. That makes you completely untouchable.”
“Actually, I agree with you, Lucas,” Meredith adds, “attraction eventually gets the better of any straight male and female friends.”