Friend (With Benefits) Zone

by Laura Brown

  “Where are you going to live?”

  Should have known that would be her response. Yeah, she had a studio, but I could crash on her couch as long as her neighbors didn’t report me to the association. Not like she’d ever offered.

  “Don’t know. But I won’t be able to help you until I’m on my feet.”

  She clicked off the television. “You owe me.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t owe you anything.” I didn’t know why I continued to see her. I guess out of some long-buried family connection, in a perverse hope that one day, she’d wake up and I’d have a parent back. Said hope dwindled by the day, and now only a few threads remained.

  I didn’t look at her, so I didn’t know her response. A box of black trash bags sat on her counter; the cardboard hadn’t even been cracked since I bought it. I filled one with all her takeout and other shit, eyes away from her.

  Story of my life.

  My eyes traveled to the menorah Mom had set up on a low shelf and never taken down after the holiday ended. She never lit it. Never celebrated the miracle of lights. And yet the menorah remained, a lingering connection to our religion. As if she still wanted a miracle herself, but didn’t know how to get one.

  I shook those thoughts aside and collected the trash. I glanced back at her once, from the door. Not sure why. I didn’t really expect any response. She had resumed watching her show and didn’t turn my way. I didn’t stomp, or wave, or flash a light. I simply took her trash with me.

  One option crossed off the list. One left.

  I tossed her trash in the large container outside, then pulled my coat tighter around myself for warmth. Dev’s tee shirt and my trench did nothing to shield me from the crisp spring air.

  I wiggled my phone out of my back pocket after I climbed into my car.

  Me: I’ve got work tonight.

  The words were right there, I’ll come back after, but I couldn’t type them. The offer was there for me, but acknowledging it? That took balls.

  Dev: Come here first. You are staying, right?

  And there it was, ready for the taking. No choice but to accept.

  Me: I can help with the rent, or food, or something.

  Dev: Stop. You stay. End of story. Please.

  Please. Did Dev really type that?

  Me: Are you begging?

  Dev: You’ll know if I’m down on my knees. Cut the shit. You’ve got a place. And I’ve got a surprise for you.

  Me: If it’s a puppy you need your head checked.

  Dev: Where are you?

  Me: On my way to work where it’s at least warm.

  Dev: Come here.

  Me: What did you do?

  Dev: Come here and find out.

  I wanted to be stubborn, but curiosity got the best of me. I started my beat-up old Civic and headed back to Dev’s place. The heat didn’t exactly work, but at least the sun warmed up my car a few degrees.

  My phone lit up from its spot in my cup holder.

  Dev: You coming?

  Me: Can’t text and drive.

  Dev: Then stop checking your phone!

  I braked at a red light.

  Me: Stop texting me and I will.

  At his apartment, I hurried through the wind and up the stairs, found his front door open a crack, and let myself in. I felt him standing nearby, but my eyes were trained on the coffee table, where my box sat in all its loud pink camouflage glory.

  My heart stuttered. His baby blues shone with a good dosage of pride, but I had no desire to pick on him. “You got my box?”

  A grin lit up his face. “I got everything I could find, but I knew this was the most important item.”

  A weight lifted off my shoulders, and I flung myself at him.

  Dev’s arms came around me, holding me tight. I buried my face in his shoulder, taking from him whatever he gave. He was my family, more so than those I shared blood with.

  I pulled back before I did something foolish, like cry, and collected the box. One peek inside the lid, and I knew it held everything it needed to.

  “Thank you,” I signed small, impossible to express the full gratitude I felt.

  “Don’t thank me yet. I had to touch all your underwear.”

  It should have been a joke. I know he meant it that way, but his expression shifted. Instead of a teasing glint to his eyes, something darker simmered just below the surface—a darkness part of me really wanted to explore.

  Why was this any different from sleeping beside him in his bed? I tried to come up with a joke, to right the weirdness now between us. But I liked the heat in his gaze, the way he looked at me. I wanted to pretend it could be more than our usual friendship for just one moment before I went back to believing it could never be.

  I STOOD UNDER the shower stream at Dev’s place, hair completely soaked and cleaned and conditioned for the first time in months. By the time I finished, my fingers were pruney, but I felt clean and refreshed.

  I wiped steam from the mirror, detangled and gelled my hair. In Dev’s room, I changed into fresh clothes, even if they did have a few wrinkles. A section of Dev’s closet had been cleared for me, and two drawers were empty and open. I didn’t have much, and he knew it, considering he’d packed for me. What did he think I was going to fill the space with? At least if this didn’t work out, I could easily pack up.

  One room I did take up space in was the bathroom. The Walker brothers had this long counter they kept empty, but now it held my crap. It took work to transform into a bar girl, but it was a part of my day I looked forward to. A chance to put on the flirty-girl persona.

  I leaned over the bathroom counter, applying a thick coating of eyeliner—a technique Mom had taught me, side by side in front of the mirror, me copying her movements, before depression latched its cold, hard teeth on her. The image of her, hair blonder, skin less pale, came to mind as if a ghost in the mirror. Along with that long-forgotten emotion of familial acceptance. One of my few happy memories with her after Dad died—applying makeup. I shook the image clear; moments like that had been fleeting, but powerful.

  Just as I held the mascara wand to my lashes, the light flashed and I nearly stabbed myself in the eye. I turned to the open door, where Dev propped his shoulder against the jamb. “What the hell? I nearly took my eye out!”

  He studied my face. “You’re fine.” Then his gaze traveled down my black tank top and biker shorts to the pink nail polish on my bare toes. “Really fine.”

  This was our banter. A line like that deserved a shoulder punch from me or a turn back to the mirror. He hung out at the bar all the time; there was nothing new about the situation.

  I went back to applying mascara. Dev didn’t move.

  Nothing had changed. I tossed my mascara on the counter and reached for my lipstick.

  Something had changed.

  My hands shook, and it took twice as long as usual for me to paint my lips. Staying with Dev was a bad idea. I’d figure out something else. I replaced the lipstick and faced him, ready to tell him thanks but no thanks. Only his eyes held a glint I wasn’t used to seeing.

  “I’ll sleep on the couch.” It would be too weird to sleep next to him. Not when I wasn’t thinking of him as a platonic friend. Not when I was far too aware of the muscles I knew were under his shirt.

  Dev straightened, and I tilted my head up to keep him in view. He hesitated. He felt it too. “Or I can, no big deal.”

  Very big deal. The first time I stayed over was the night Dad died and Mom was stuck at the hospital in a hysterical dehydrated fit. The Walkers had set me up in their spare room, but I sneaked into Dev’s bed. Even at ten years old, there was no one who held me quite like he did.

  “Right, no big deal.”

  He stood there another minute before shaking his head and leaving me alone. Tomorrow I needed to come up with a new life plan, one that got me out of murky waters with my best friend.

  Chapter Six

  Devon

  THE NEED TO help Jas co
nsumed me. The undeniable urge to do something, anything more for her. To wave a damn fairy wand and fix all her problems, bring her father back, prevent her mother’s depression, and keep money from ever being an issue.

  I had to think, find some unturned rock that held all the magical answers to fixing her life. The itch was there, telling me an answer existed inches from my grasp, waiting for me to shift just enough to find it.

  While I searched for the rock, another idea sprang to mind. It was small, but the smallest of gestures had been known to create the biggest results. I pulled out my phone and sent a group text to our mutual friends, Pete and Nikki.

  Me: Bar. Tonight. Jas evicted.

  Pete: What the hell?

  Nikki: How’s Jas?

  Me: What do you think?

  Nikki: She need a place, or do you “have her”?

  Me: What does that mean?

  Pete: Let them live together, maybe they’ll figure it out.

  I placed my head on the back of the couch. No one was going there. Especially not Pete. If he revealed my secret, I’d reveal his.

  Me: Drop it.

  Nikki texted a winking emoji. Helpful.

  I didn’t leave to join Jas at the bar, not right away, and I hadn’t the foggiest idea why. I’d never hesitated before. Never needed to.

  I did now. Maybe I’d been in love with her for so long I’d forgotten how to mask it. I had to do better—that line was not to be crossed. Ever. Jas was my family, not someone I screwed around with. I needed her in my life, and she needed me. Being friends kept us as we were meant to be.

  The dive bar where she worked consisted of a run-down building next to other run-down buildings. I parked in the lot abutted by a tree, its roots creating some interesting parking spaces. The wind tunneled between the buildings, blowing against my aids and creating loud microphone noises. I hurried into the warm yet dreary bar and searched for Jasmine. She stood at a table where a bunch of college guys sat. Jas handled communication via a whiteboard she kept attached to her hip, and one guy wrote on her. Part of her appeal, I thought—the up-close kind of contact.

  It made my blood boil as usual and eradicated any chill from outside.

  The guy had his head too close to her breasts, his hand nearly on her ass as he wrote, and there was nothing I wanted to do more than punch the hell out of him. Especially when his hand snaked around to grab her ass. Before I could move, Jas backed out of his reach, collected her board, and wagged a finger in front of his face like a schoolteacher reprimanding a student. It got his hands off her, but I knew he’d be jerking off to her image later.

  Jas shifted, catching me at the door. A smile brightened her face as she nodded toward the bar. I’d hung out here since before I could legally drink. This bar was the don’t make us ask for your ID kind of place, the reason why Jas had worked here since she was seventeen.

  A few older guys sat at one side of the bar, and I settled at the other end, sitting on a round stool with a cracked red leather cover. Jas came over and handed her board to her bartender/boss, Len, then grabbed a beer for me without asking. She popped the cap and placed it in front of me. “Don’t trust me to come back to your place?” she signed.

  I brought the beer to my lips. “You’ve had a shit day. I thought you could use some friends.”

  Her eyes narrowed, then darted over my shoulder. I didn’t have to turn. I knew reinforcements had arrived.

  Nikki sidled up next to me, with Pete on the other side of her. “That apartment was crap, and you know it,” she signed.

  Jas let out a breath. “It was cheap.”

  Pete leaned forward, the tattoos on his tanned arms flexing as he moved. “So’s Devon.”

  I reached behind Nikki and whacked Pete on the back of his head.

  “True.” Jas’s brown eyes held a tease but lingered on mine for too long. The air between us grew thick with a new kind of tension, the kind of tension that made breathing an option and my pants too tight. I wasn’t mistaking this shift. I held her gaze, searching for answers, refusing to check her slender neck for signs her pulse was as crazy as mine was.

  Jas broke eye contact and collected Nikki and Pete’s drink order. She avoided looking at me as she checked on Len, who had finished her orders. She gathered her full tray and swayed away from us, balancing all those drinks on slender arms that were a hell of a lot stronger than they appeared.

  Nikki crossed her arms and leaned back, dark eyes flitting back and forth between Jas and me before staring me down. “See?” she signed, before recrossing her arms.

  “See what?” I all but dared her. If any talk about us existed behind our backs, no one dared mention it to Jas and me. We had shot down any romantic notions for years, our standard responses accepted far and wide. There was no reason to change things now. None at all, even if I’d been better at hiding my feelings back in school.

  Nikki turned to Pete. “We should tell them.”

  Pete shook his head. “No. Their problem, not ours.”

  “You want them to keep playing this game?”

  “Sure, it’s fun.”

  Someone bumped my shoulder, and I turned to Jas leaning against me, her empty tray dangling at her side. “They picking on us again?”

  “Of course.”

  Our usual banter. Same conversation, different night. Except for the way her shoulder continued to touch mine. I tried to remember if this was normal or not. All I knew was that it didn’t feel normal. Not anymore.

  Nikki spun around to face us. “You two are yin and yang.”

  I arched an eyebrow.

  Pete popped a nut in his mouth. “Truth. You should get it tattooed.”

  Jas shook her head beside me, her blond curls swishing into my periphery.

  “That’s an idea,” Nikki signed. “You two together are complete, you balance each other the way no one else will. Why not show it off with a little ink?”

  Jas shifted next to me. “Your point?”

  Nikki fought an upturn to her lips. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

  Jas took off, returning a minute later and banging Nikki and Pete’s drinks on the counter, liquid splashing. “Play nice, or go home.”

  I didn’t catch Nikki’s response but I did see the flush to Jas’s cheeks before she moved away.

  “Be nice,” I signed to Nikki.

  She held her hands up. “I’m nice. I swear.” She pushed my shoulder. “Open your eyes.”

  “No.” I turned away from her. It was the most confirmation I’d ever given. And I didn’t dare give more.

  THE MINUTE NIKKI and Pete left, Jas picked up a rag and started wiping down tables. Tables that didn’t need to be cleaned. Not at this hour, with only a few stragglers remaining. Her message was clear: she didn’t want to talk.

  I waved her down and had to include a few foot stomps before she looked my way. “I’ll see you at home?”

  Her shoulders stiffened, and I braced myself, but she nodded before turning back to the spotless tables.

  I headed home, all the while wondering if she needed a little space. I could sleep on the couch, give her my room. Or would she interpret it as me treating her with kid gloves? Didn’t matter, being too close to her was bound to get my signals crossed. I couldn’t keep her in the same box she’d been in for over a decade. Not when the thought of her made me hard.

  I needed to get my head on straight, and some time with the punching bag in the basement usually did the trick. Didn’t explain why I stood staring at the couch as if it was a goddamn crystal ball or some shit. I hadn’t moved when the door behind me opened. Blake entered, goofy smile on his face, razor burn on his neck, and—“You skipped a button.”

  He looked down at his shirt, one side higher than the other. “You don’t care.”

  I shook my head. I didn’t. Blake worked hard; he deserved to play hard. “How’s Shawn?”

  At the mention of his boyfriend’s name, his smile widened. My days with Blake as a roommate were definitely
numbered.

  Blake looked around. “Where’s Jasmine?”

  “Work. She’ll be home soon.”

  Blake’s smile fell. “And you were waiting for me?”

  I scratched the back of my neck. “Debating if I should stay on the couch.”

  “You haven’t stayed there before.”

  I hadn’t had my bottled-up desire this close to the surface. “I can’t do that to her.”

  Blake’s eyebrows scrunched together. “Do what? Sleep with her?”

  I shifted my stance. Those words no longer had a platonic connotation.

  Blake laughed, the sound connecting with my hearing aids until I flicked one off. “Want some advice?”

  “No.” Only I still didn’t move.

  “Stop fighting yourself. Allow whatever needs to happen, to happen.”

  “And when it fails?”

  Blake ran a hand through his hair. “And when it doesn’t fail?”

  “Neither one of us are good at commitment.”

  “Except that you’ve been friends since elementary school. Maybe you both are really good at it.”

  With that, he turned and headed down the hall.

  I left the living area and entered my room, determined to make things a nonissue. Any more acknowledgment of this shit would just mess things up further.

  I got ready for bed and busied myself by playing on my phone when Jas showed up. And all I could think about was the way the light hit her cheek and how I wanted to trace the path with my hand.

  She waved and grabbed the tee shirt I had given her yesterday before slipping off to the bathroom. I tried to convince myself everything was fine; if Jas didn’t want to acknowledge the couch offer, then I wouldn’t either. Except the thought of my clothes against her bare skin sent all my blood rushing south.

  Well, at least that was still the same. Not quite to this extreme, but yeah. The downside of having a smoking-hot best friend.

  Jas returned and dumped her bar clothes in a corner. My tee shirt grazed her knees. I couldn’t help but wonder which of her underwear she wore underneath, if any at all. “So, are you the yin or am I?” Her lips curved as she signed.

  I had to blink a few times to get my head back on track and off what she looked like under the shirt. “Your skin is darker than mine.” I nearly punched myself. Way to let go of thoughts of her bare skin, Dev.