Frenemies

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Frenemies Page 13

by Emma Hart


  I’d steal one when she wasn’t looking.

  I cracked open a beer and took a long drink, then ate. I’d never understood Friends despite the number of hours I’d been forced to watch it by Immy. It had just never been my kind of show, but now, I found myself snorting along when she laughed.

  Damn it.

  Now I was going to have to watch this on my own time—like I had any of that spare.

  “I can hear you laughing.” Immy licked her fingers and reached for a napkin. “I know you’re enjoying this.”

  “It’s shit,” I lied. “I still don’t understand the point of the show.”

  “Not everything has to have a point to it, Mason. Just because you like documentaries with a purpose doesn’t mean we all like our entertainment to be educational.”

  “True, but it means I’m great at quizzes.”

  “When do you quiz?”

  “Quiz shows on TV.”

  “Have you ever been on one?”

  “I don’t have the time to be on one, Imogen.”

  “Right. So you watch documentaries to expand your knowledge for the sole purpose of sitting on your sofa and feeling good about yourself when you’re smarter than the contestants on quiz shows?”

  “Don’t you watch dating shows for a similar reason?”

  “Yeah, no, a parade of tall, size two blondes who resemble supermodels chasing after a tall, dark, handsome as hell guy really makes me feel good about myself. Especially when I’m wearing stained sweats, a paint-covered shirt, and haven’t washed my hair in three days.”

  My lips twitched. “Maybe that was the wrong comparison to use.”

  “Ya think?”

  I held up my hands in defeat and closed the pizza box before reaching for napkins myself. “All right, it definitely was.”

  “Mm.” She wiped her mouth and put the pizza box on the table to pick up her wine.

  I reached over and grabbed the last garlic bread ball.

  Immy’s jaw dropped, and she glared at me. “Hey!”

  I shoved it in my mouth in response.

  “I can’t believe you ate the last one!”

  “I paid for it!” I said around a mouthful of the—so good—ball.

  She shook her head and scooted to the edge of the sofa. “The audacity. That was the crispiest one. I was saving it for last.”

  I swallowed it and grinned. “You’re right. They are good.”

  “I don’t have to put up with this. I’ve done my good deed for the day; amusing you is not going to be the second.” She scooped up the glass of wine and the bottle and got up.

  I watched as she passed me, amused. “Are you taking my wine glass home, then?”

  She paused, looked down, then met my eyes. Without blinking, she brought the glass to her lips and tipped it back, downing the entire thing in one go. She came back and put it on the coffee table, and with one swipe of the corner of her mouth, she said, “No.”

  “Imogen.”

  “Goodnight, Mason.”

  Her faux outrage was adorable. Or maybe it wasn’t fake—I didn’t know, but I did know she was being a little drama queen.

  I got up from the sofa and chased after her before she could make it to the front door. I darted around her, backing myself up against the door so she couldn’t get the handle.

  “I said goodnight, Mason.” She pouted at me.

  “You’re being ridiculous.”

  “You ate my food. That’s a cardinal sin where I’m from.”

  “You’re from the house next door.”

  “Oh, shut up and let me go home.”

  “Nope.” I folded my arms across my chest. “You’re looking for an excuse to leave because you can’t admit that you enjoy hanging out with me.”

  She cleared her throat. “I can barely stand your company, thank you very much.”

  “You know, it’s amazing you ate so much, considering.”

  “Considering what?”

  “Considering how full of shit you are.”

  Her mouth formed a perfect little ‘o.’ “Excuse me?”

  “Do I really have to explain more?”

  “I am not full of shit!”

  “If you really hated me, you wouldn’t bring your grandma’s baking. You wouldn’t have helped me in my catastrophe with the burned popcorn and the rogue fire alarm, and you sure as hell wouldn’t have driven me across town to the emergency vet clinic and eaten dinner with me tonight.”

  She swallowed, making her throat bob. “I don’t like you, but that doesn’t mean I’m a bad person.”

  “Don’t like me, my arse. We’re not idiotic college kids anymore, Immy. You don’t have to lie about how you feel to make yourself feel better.”

  She crossed her arms, mirroring my position, without letting go of the neck of the wine bottle. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “All right, fine. If you want to be stubborn…”

  “I’m not being stubborn.”

  “I have a three-year-old. Trust me, you’re being stubborn. I could write a book on stubborn.”

  She sniffed. “I’d like to go, please.”

  “You can go.”

  She took a step forward.

  “Once you’ve put your inner bitch away and listened to me for sixty seconds.”

  Her mouth opened as if she was going to argue, but she took a deep breath and closed it again, then gave me the barest hint of a nod to continue.

  “You can be as stubborn as you want,” I said, moving toward her. “But you’re doing the same thing you did in college and putting up a wall. The problem is, I know you.”

  She glanced away.

  “If you hated spending time with me, you wouldn’t have eaten here tonight. You made that choice, Immy. You were the one who said seeing me again brought back some feelings; do you really think you’re the only one?”

  Her eyes widened the smallest amount, like the thought hadn’t actually occurred to her.

  “You’re not. It’s brought stuff back for me, too. It’s reminded me of things I’d forgotten in the craziness of my life in the last few years, and spending time with you is making me question a lot of things. Do I want to spend time with you because it’s comfortable and reminds me of an easier time? Do I fucking feel this way because, like you said, we never had closure? Or did I just never really get over you?”

  Her lips parted, but not in a way that said she was going to argue. It was more of an, “Oh, shit,” kind of way. Like she didn’t expect me to say that.

  If I was honest, I hadn’t expected it either.

  The longer I thought about it, the more I thought I really wasn’t over her. That I’d never gotten over her.

  That there was always something there, lingering deep down, something that would probably never go away.

  I met her gaze and held it for a long moment. Her blue eyes showed a mix of emotions that clouded their brightness, and after what felt like the longest time, I took a step to the side, clearing her path to the door.

  “Believe me when I say I know I have no right to ask anything of you, Immy. I just want to be friends—honestly. We’re both old enough to move on from our past.” I threw a hand in the direction of the door and took another step away from it. “Thank you for helping me tonight. Even though she’s probably going to be okay, I don’t know what I would have done if you didn’t get Dolly to the vet for me.”

  Immy swallowed again and moved toward the door. She grabbed the handle, then paused and looked over her shoulder. “I didn’t take her for you, Mason. I took her for Maya.”

  My heart jolted. “Why?”

  “Because I’m not in the business of breaking a three-year-old’s heart.” She ran her gaze over my shoulders and along the bottom of my face before she met my eyes. “And she’s exactly why it doesn’t matter if either of us have feelings, Mason. You shouldn’t bring someone into her life unless you know one hundred percent those feelings are based on something right now, not somethin
g that happened six years ago.”

  “You think I don’t know that? Here’s what you’re missing in that bit of logic: you are in her life.”

  “We’re neighbors, Mason!” She put the bottle of wine on the side table and faced me, throwing her arms out. “That’s it. Just neighbors. Nothing more, okay?”

  “All right, fine.” I held up my hands in defeat. “Just neighbors. If you really believe that, you’ll be able to walk out the door right now, content in the knowledge that you feel absolutely nothing for me beyond that.”

  She lifted her chin the tiniest amount.

  “Just neighbors. Just friends. Nothing more. If you can do that, then I’m glad one of us can.”

  Then, she did it.

  She turned around, ducking her head, and pulled the door open. She didn’t even stop to look at me or grab her wine bottle again.

  She walked right out, tugging the door shut with a thud behind her.

  She was gone.

  She’d actually gone.

  She’d walked out my fucking door, leaving me standing here like the idiot I felt I was.

  I turned and leaned against the wall, pressing my elbows against the cold, hard surface and burying my hands in my hair.

  Well, I’d royally fucked that up, hadn’t I?

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  What was I supposed to do now? Maybe we’d wake up tomorrow, and it would be like I hadn’t told her I had feelings for her. Maybe we’d catch each other’s eye across the driveway, nod, and get along with our days like normal neighbors did.

  But she’d never be a fucking normal neighbor, would she?

  She’d always be Imogen. The girl I once knew. The girl I once loved. The woman I could love now if everything would align.

  If she’d stop being so damn stubborn and admit she felt something, too. I didn’t care what she said. I knew she felt something because I’d seen it in her eyes.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

  I banged my fists against the wall and pushed off it. I never let my emotions run away with me like this, but I couldn’t put these into a box right now.

  I needed a hot shower or an entire bottle of whiskey in one shot. Either one would have the same effect, but the whiskey would probably do a better job of knocking me the hell out.

  Blowing out a long breath, I rubbed a hand down my face and headed for the stairs.

  Unfortunately, while I had a bottle of Jack Daniels under the sink, I had an eight a.m. meeting so it wasn’t advisable to drink it all right now.

  A shower it was.

  Three knocks sounded at my door.

  I stopped and looked back at it like it’d banged on itself.

  Was that—no.

  There was no way.

  Immy was not at my door.

  Three more knocks.

  “Goddamn it, Mason!”

  Fuck me dead, that was her.

  I walked to the door and pulled it open.

  It was.

  It was Immy.

  She was standing on the doorstep, eyes wide and shining, lips slightly parted. “Um. I… I went home,” she finished lamely. “But I couldn’t… go through the door.”

  I said nothing.

  I just stared at her.

  “I, um. I don’t really know.” She cupped her throat with her hand and looked away again, focusing on something out of the way.

  “Imogen, are you coming in or what?”

  “What?” She jerked her gaze back to me like it hadn’t even crossed her mind.

  “It’s up to you. You can come in, or your grandma can watch me kiss the shit out of you on the doorstep.”

  Her eyes widened like a deer in headlights.

  Grandma it was.

  I stepped outside and cupped the back of her head with my hand. Lowering my head, I pressed my lips to hers and kissed her firmly, reveling in the softness of her lips against mine. She staggered back a little, but she recovered with a swift grab of my shirt, one that only served to bring her body even closer to mine.

  I circled her body with my free arm. I flicked my tongue against her lips, and she tilted her head back, opening her mouth so I could kiss her properly.

  God, it felt so fucking good to kiss her again. A rush of emotion and excitement that jolted right through my body, setting all my nerve endings alight.

  And my cock. Fuck. The blood rushed right to my dick, making it throb. A tiny rush of air escaped Imogen’s lips as it hardened as pressed against her.

  “Woohoo!”

  We broke apart like we’d been set on fire and both jerked our heads in the direction of her house.

  Jen was leaning out of the window, waving her handkerchief. “Woohoo! Get it!”

  “Oh, my God. Grandma!” Immy started toward her.

  I grabbed her and wrapped my arms around her. “She won’t be home tonight!” I yelled, dragging Immy into the house.

  “Mason!” Immy shrieked,

  Jen cackled and whooped, throwing her fist into the air like our own little cheerleader.

  It was fucking weird.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN – IMMY

  Kiss For A Cause

  “Mason!” I gasped. “You can’t say to my Grandma!”

  The asshole laughed. “Yeah, I can. Did you hear her laughing? She’s cheering us on!”

  “Yeah, that’s what I want to hear. My grandma is happy I could potentially get laid,” I said dryly.

  “There’s no potentially about it; you’re getting laid.”

  “So fucking romantic,” I muttered. “I didn’t even like you ten minutes ago.”

  “Yeah, well, buckle up, because I’m gonna be your favorite person in an hour.”

  “An hour? You’re generous.”

  “All right, twenty minutes. It’s been a while.”

  I smirked. “If you make it twenty minutes, I’ll be impressed.”

  “Challenge accepted.”

  He yanked me back toward him, sinking his fingers into my hair. The familiarity of his kiss was like a warm blanket as it wrapped around me, and my body sank against his. I responded to his hungry kiss with vigor of my own, one that had my fingers twining in the collar of his shirt.

  Everything inside me was telling me that I was crazy, that I’d lost my damn mind, but there wasn’t a part of me that wanted to pull away.

  Which was stupid, because I’d spent the last several days rejecting him in every way, shape, and form.

  Like I had five minutes ago.

  Look, I never claimed to think everything through.

  Mason pulled back and grabbed my hand, dragging me behind him. I almost tripped halfway up the stairs, but I righted myself before I landed on my ass.

  He swept me against him the second we stepped into his room. There was no fight in me as he kissed me deeply, running his hands over my upper body. Everything became a blur as we moved toward the bed and lowered ourselves onto it.

  We both removed our shirts and tossed them to the floor. Mason leaned over me, pushing me to lie back, and covered my body with his. He slipped his legs between mine and slid his hands up my forearms, intertwining his fingers through mine, and pinning my hands to the bed.

  He kissed me deeply, flicking his tongue against mine. He nibbled at my lower lip, sending shivers through my body as his hard cock pressed against my core. My legs ached to wrap around him, but before I could, he pulled back, dragging his lips down my neck in a hot pattern of open-mouthed kisses that sent goosebumps over my skin.

  He reached my waistband and tucked his fingers into it, pulling my jeans over my hips and ass, then down over my legs until they were completely free.

  A jolt of nerves ran through me, making my entire body tense. It’d been so long since he’d seen me like this, but he smiled like he knew and dropped his own jeans.

  Any doubts I had about this moment shot out of the window the second I saw the outline of his cock fighting to break free from his boxers.

  He ran his hands up my legs from my ankles to the
very tops of my thighs. His thumbs brushed along the hem of my thong, precariously close to my clitoris. I shivered at the faint touch, and he was smiling as he kissed me.

  It didn’t last long.

  His kiss quickly became hungrier, deeper, needier. I responded in kind, and so did my body. Heat swept through me as my desire for Mason took hold, and I wrapped my legs around his waist. My fingers slipped through his hair and ran over his broad shoulders, and I savored every second we touched.

  But it was too much. It’d been too long since this had happened with him.

  At this moment, with Mason all but naked on top of me, kissing me like his life depended on it, six years felt like an entire lifetime.

  I reached down his taut body and grabbed the waistband of his boxers, making it clear what I wanted.

  I wanted him naked.

  And I wanted him naked now.

  “Take your damn clothes off,” I muttered against his lips.

  “For someone who didn’t like me ten minutes ago, you’re awfully bossy right now.”

  “Yeah, well, I like you right now, so shut up and do it.”

  He laughed, pulling away from me. Scooting down the bed, he got to his feet and pulled down his underwear. He kicked them to the side and stalked around the bed to the nightstand where he pulled out a box of condoms.

  I watched as he extracted one from the box and ripped the foil open, removing the condom from its packaging. He rolled it over his cock as he walked around the edge of the bed, and he kept his eyes on me the whole time.

  I felt dangerously exposed, but all the intimacy of the eye contact did was turn me on even more. I squirmed under his gaze. He leaned forward and kissed me, then withdrew his lips as quickly as he’d planted them on me so he could pull off my thong.

  He tossed them aside and looked down. Instinctively, I moved to close my legs, but he grabbed my knees and parted them before I could clamp them shut.

  Mason’s hands moved up the inside of my thighs with ease, toward my exposed wetness. Unbothered by the shiver that wracked my body, he touched his thumb in the area of my clit and slowly explored until he found it. My gasp gave the game away, and he used my reaction to his advantage.

 

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