Friend (With Benefits) Zone

by Laura Brown

I grabbed the bag and stopped her before she hurt herself. Before I could sign anything, she wrapped her arms around me, her lips devouring my mouth.

  My hands curled into her hips as I took the kiss deeper, darker. So much had happened since our last kiss, and it hadn’t been that long. She could be upstairs, locking me out of my room. Instead she was here, rubbing her body against mine, driving me out of my goddamn mind.

  I broke the kiss. “Let’s go upstairs.”

  She glanced behind her at the closed door, then back at me with her eyebrows twitching. Her lips grazed my chin and neck before I pulled back.

  “Upstairs.”

  She reached into the front of her tube top and pulled out a condom.

  I checked the door. It was locked. “You sure you’re thinking clearly?”

  “No!” She flung her hands out. “I’m not thinking clearly. Everything in my life is upside down. I have no home. I’m dating my best friend. Now, make me feel good.”

  I kissed her. Short and sweet, but she ratcheted up the volume, pulling me under into a drug-induced haze in mere seconds. I backed her up to the washer or dryer, I wasn’t really sure which. She scooted back, and that short skirt did nothing to hide that I was a dead man the moment she’d walked into the room; she wasn’t wearing underwear.

  “You trying to kill me?”

  She squirmed, her skirt shifting up higher, and I nearly missed her signs. “Maybe.” She placed the condom beside her and folded her top down, exposing two perfect breasts.

  I took in all of her. Her skirt and top both bunched around her waist. The erotic visual of her, like this, on the washer. Legs spread and body arched in complete invitation. I was going to die a very happy man. I claimed her mouth with my own as one hand caressed her nipple. Her hands went to my pants, and two seconds later they were around my ankles, and her hand was on me.

  Control shattered. I would have slowed down, but then my hand trailed up her inner thigh to find her wet and ready. My fingers slid around and pushed easily inside, her muscles contracting against me. A high-pitched moan hit my ears as she pressed into my hand, and for one moment, I had her. I gave, and she received. Then she took the reins and ripped open the condom with a little hum that made me even harder before sliding the condom down my throbbing erection, one slow inch at a time that had me ready to burst.

  I shifted her forward and pushed inside in one hard thrust. Too fast. I focused on her face, ready to apologize, but her eyes were closed, her mouth half open, and every inch of her screamed pleasure.

  When I didn’t move, she popped open an eye, sent me one devil of a smile, and squirmed against me. “Fast?” I asked.

  “And hard.” She hooked her ankle against my lower back.

  I gave in. Fast and hard thrusts that she met with her own, fueling a euphoria like no other. I wouldn’t last long, but she already trembled in my arms and clenched around my dick. I wanted to feel her without that latex barrier.

  One day. If I was a lucky man.

  For now, I brushed my tongue against hers, rubbed a nipple, helped prolong her enjoyment as much as possible, until I lost it. I stood there in her arms, spent and mostly naked in the laundry room.

  I picked my head up to find Jas wearing a large grin. “I needed that.”

  I kissed her before pulling out. “Good.” I disposed of the condom in the trash, hating that I needed to bring shit back up. “We need to talk about things.”

  She nodded. “Not tonight. I’ve hit my limit for the day.” She hopped down and fixed her skirt and top.

  “Tomorrow,” I agreed. Words threatened to break free, words she deserved to see. But until things were settled between us, I didn’t dare.

  I DIDN’T WAKE Jas in the morning, so we didn’t talk. Which was fine, I didn’t want to start the day with that shit and then have to go our separate ways. I went to class, then to my volunteer job. Jas and housing weighed heavily on my mind, to the point where I snagged Katherine when I found her alone.

  “Can I ask you a question?” I asked.

  “Of course.”

  “Remember my friend with the eviction notice? She lost her housing and can’t afford much. What do you suggest she do?”

  She frowned. “That was fast. Doesn’t sound right.”

  “It’s not.”

  “I have a homeless client coming in fifteen minutes. Why don’t you observe?”

  “You sure?” Since my internship, I’d sat in on a random appointment here and there, but mostly I helped with paperwork and other stuff.

  She nodded. “What happened to your friend?”

  “They changed her locks.”

  “They can’t do that.”

  “She didn’t have a contract.”

  “Doesn’t matter. She can fight them if she wants to. You could refer her to the pro bono lawyer place we use, see if they’ll help.”

  My instinct did not want to go this route. But was that what Jas would want, or me?

  Katherine’s gaze shifted to my wrist. “That’s cool. Is that part of a yin yang?”

  I breathed a little easier. She wasn’t upset. “Yes.” I held out my wrist, and she examined it.

  “New?”

  “Yes.”

  “I heard they hurt.”

  I finger-spelled yes for emphasis.

  “You know, I have a client who wants one. I could use your advice.”

  Pete was the expert, not me, but I could always ask him what I didn’t know.

  We chatted for a few minutes before her appointment joined us. I took mental notes as Katherine went over his options. Shelter—no way was Jas going there. Craigslist—that hadn’t done her any good in the past. And subsidized housing—waiting list, would take time.

  Mostly I studied how Katherine interacted. No blame, just facts and options. Deep in my gut, I felt myself sitting in her seat, dealing with my own clients in a similar gentle manner. This was the right path for me, and I knew I could do it.

  One way or another, I had to talk to Dad.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Jasmine

  THE PROBLEM WITH difficult conversations was that they were easier to push off and harder to have hanging over your head. I woke up with a weight on my shoulders, one I had hoped the sex would eradicate.

  It hadn’t. Not even the second time, slow, in Dev’s bed.

  I needed a plan, a goal, some way to figure my shit out. And yes, Dev wanted to have this conversation with me to help me. I needed to know what I wanted first.

  But that was unknown. I’d been living day to day with saving money the only goal. And in that vein, saving money worked best if I lived with Dev.

  As much as living with him felt good, I didn’t want to live with him because I had to. I wanted to do it because I wanted to. Big difference.

  Which was foolish. Why was it any different now that sex was involved? We should be closer than ever, not having to deal with all these new issues.

  Tonight. We’d talk tonight. And between now and then, I needed to know what Jasmine Helmsman would do, Dev or no Dev.

  I dressed in warm layers—one a sweatshirt of Dev’s—and pulled on my trench. I needed some time to think and had a place I went to when life pushed me to my limits. The thirty-minute drive to the south shore alone gave me a little breathing room, as there was nothing but the road to deal with. I turned off the highway, down a residential street lined with trees, until I arrived at a large green area: the Jewish cemetery where my father’s body lived. The place was huge, lots of lush green mounts with trees dispersed. If I went left, I’d find most of Mom’s side of the family. If I went right, I’d find Dad and his. I assumed Mom would eventually be buried on this side, but I didn’t know what her plans were.

  With any luck, I wouldn’t find out soon.

  I followed the winding roads until I arrived at the large stone that reminded me of a nose. I parked along the side and walked down the grass. The headstones were part of the ground, nothing sticking up. If it wasn’t
for the markers, I’d never know where I was.

  I passed my grandparents and turned at the tree, then headed to the shady spot where Dad lay. In the center the name Helmsman appeared in large letters, flanked on either side by Jewish stars. It listed Dad’s details, including the words Loving husband, father, son.

  I sat in front of him, brushing some scraps of grass off his plaque. “Hi.” I felt silly signing to nothing, but I did it anyways. “Mom’s in the hospital. She fell and broke her hip, but she’ll be OK.”

  I fixed my trench when a breeze fluttered the ends. “I lost my apartment, but Devon let me stay with him.” I smiled in spite of myself. “We’re dating now, so it’s complicated. And I need to find a new place or commit to being with him.”

  I looked up at the clear sky, shaking my head at myself. “I don’t know what to do. I want a bar, but saving money and living seem to contradict each other. And I know I’m young, but there’s been so much hurt and pain, and I want to settle down and be happy for a change. Is that really too much to ask? For a little happiness and stability in this awful life?”

  With my hands out wide, tears streaked my cheeks. I really hated that I was suddenly crying at everything after crying at nothing for years. “The only stability I have is Devon, and now that’s changed.”

  I looked at my wrist. Stability remained. Different, complicated, but there for the taking. I couldn’t imagine life without him. When I was alone, he made me not alone.

  “I should just live with him, shouldn’t I? I mean, that’s what you do when you love someone: you want to be with them. And when they’re gone, it hurts like a bitch.”

  Mom loved Dad. I refused to turn into her if I ever lost Dev, but the thought of losing him permanently made giving up on everything seem warranted.

  “What do you think? Should I stay on my own or move in with Devon?”

  The trees rustled, but no answer came. No answer would. I’d done this before, sat here, asked Dad a question, hoping for some divine intervention to change my life. The answer wasn’t going to come from him; it had to start with me.

  And yet, being alone was overrated. I’d done that since I moved out of Mom’s apartment at eighteen. And I hadn’t enjoyed being “home” until this past week with Dev.

  “Yes, I think I will live with him. He makes me happy.” I glanced at my wrist. “Oh, and we got matching tattoos. Mom flipped. You probably would too.”

  With the breeze still rustling, though not as cool as before, I stood and brushed grass off my coat. “Thanks for the coat. It’s awful at keeping me warm though. Didn’t you freeze while wearing it?”

  I stared down at him, a man I’d still have to look up to see if he lived. “I love you. I miss you. And one day, I will run a bar in a way that will make you proud.”

  I wrestled my phone from my back pocket, ready to text Dev and have this talk once and for all. Only there was a text waiting for me from Len. Another one telling me not to come into work tonight.

  I understood the last time. And yeah, I had filled in for him the night before, but the bar was dead, it was a breeze. I wanted to question him, but he’d been so moody lately, he’d fire my ass.

  I switched to my text thread with Dev.

  Me: I’m off tonight. Plenty of time to talk.

  Dev: I’ve got work, then I’m all yours.

  Me: And if talk bad?

  Dev: We’ll figure it out. I’m not losing my yin.

  My heart warmed even as the breeze cooled me. I wanted these types of conversations. Discussion about dinner and when we’d be home and who paid the electricity bill. It wouldn’t be easy, but life rarely was.

  THANKS TO TRAFFIC, Dev arrived home before I did. His homework was spread out before him on the table. He looked up, those light eyes striking against disheveled shaggy hair. For an awkward moment, we stared at each other. I didn’t think either one of us even breathed. Before the tension mounted, I inhaled deeply. It broke the spell. I removed my coat and joined him at the table. Earlier I’d had all the answers, but now I hesitated. I had never hesitated with Dev before.

  He held up a finger and took control. “Before we start, I learned about different housing options at my volunteer job today. Options that may help you.”

  Options. I figured out what I wanted, regardless of finances, and he gives me options. When I needed the man, he gave me the social worker. The straightness of his spine, the serious expression—he was in work mode. I didn’t want work mode, I wanted him and his emotions.

  “Your old landlord is in the wrong for changing your locks. You can fight them, maybe even get money from the situation.”

  On what planet would they owe me money? As tempting as this was, I doubted it would pan out.

  “One, there are shelters, and shelters can give homeless certificates, but I don’t like this option for you, so don’t even think about it.”

  I rolled my eyes. So Dev’s work mode blurred when it related to me.

  “Two, subsidized housing. There are applications you can fill out, and your rent will be based on your income. Three, section eight for reduced rent, but I’m not sure this is any better than Craigslist, and that hasn’t been good to you.”

  “Half of what you’re telling me you don’t want me to take.” Social workers weren’t supposed to be this personal. If I pointed it out, maybe he’d stop treating me like a client.

  “I don’t want you to take any of these. I’m letting you know what’s available for you.”

  “Why?”

  Dev rubbed his neck. His expression lost its serious edge, and his shoulders slouched back to normal. “How else am I supposed to help?”

  Help. It always boiled down to help with him. “I don’t know. You want me to stay with you, then you give me other options that involve me living elsewhere. How about you telling me what you want for a change?”

  His chest was heaving as if he’d run a marathon. “What I want? I want you living with me. I thought I made that clear.”

  “Why?”

  “Why?” He repeated. “Because I . . . ” His hands, balled into fists, came close to crossing into the sign for love before they fell to his sides.

  He froze. I froze. The unfinished sign hung between us, scary and wonderful and threatening to heal or destroy us. This was what I had wanted, even if he’d almost given me a boatload more than I’d expected. This wasn’t the social worker talking; this was Dev, the man.

  “Stop overthinking,” Dev signed. “I know you caught that.”

  “Caught what?” I didn’t give him a chance to respond; I just steamrolled forward. “We don’t need to talk. I’ll stay. There. Conversation finished.”

  “Are we ignoring that last slip?” I tried to overlook the sudden sadness in his eyes, but it was too damn hard not to.

  “Yes. You don’t commit.”

  “You ever ask why?”

  No, he couldn’t go there. I couldn’t handle seeing any more of him exposed. I poked him in the chest. “Don’t you dare pin your past failed relationships on me.”

  He shoved both hands into his hair, leaving the ends sticking out. “I’m not. That was my problem, because I was too much of a wimp to say anything to you. But if you don’t feel the same . . . ” His hands trailed off, and he shook his head. Then he leveled me with a piercing blue-eyed gaze. “No. I know you. We wouldn’t be dating if you didn’t feel something. Maybe I’m too early—”

  “Of course you’re too early. We just started dating. There isn’t enough time—”

  “And fifteen years of friendship means nothing?”

  I tried to corral my breathing, but it was pointless at a time like this.

  “What do you want? If there were no limits, no restrictions. What would Jasmine Helmsman want?”

  Him. We were going around in circles when we both wanted the same thing. “This is scary.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” The sincerity of his words was written across his face and in his body language as he held
his hands out to the side. I felt so much for this man, it ached.

  “Do I drive you crazy?”

  A small smile played at his lips. “All the time.”

  “Good. That makes two of us.”

  He crossed the room to me, tapped my forehead. “What’s going on in here? You’re keeping yourself hidden.”

  “I want to live with you. If you want—”

  He collected my hands in his. “The offer is there, always there.”

  “I don’t want a handout.”

  “I know. I think I can work out a deal.” He leaned in and kissed my neck.

  I grasped his hair and pulled his head up. “My part of the rent does not relate to sex.”

  He laughed. “Just whatever you paid at your last place. Blake and I have this covered. We’ll figure things out when we move.”

  Move. Together. On purpose. A twinge traveled up my spine, and Dev rubbed my shoulder. “Don’t worry about that yet. Blake still has to make it official with Shawn.”

  I relaxed. “We’re in a real relationship, aren’t we?”

  He kissed my forehead. “We’ve always been real.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Jasmine

  THE SETTING SUN dotted the sky in purples and oranges as I made my way to the bar. I figured either the sight depicted a beautiful masterpiece or warned of an impending storm.

  I parked my car in the empty lot, another slow night surely in my future. The wind chilled my bare legs as I hurried to the door, ready to get into the warm environment.

  My fingers wrapped around the handle and pulled, my shoulder jerking when it didn’t budge. I tried again. Nothing. A far-too-familiar déjà vu settled into my stomach as I cupped my hands and looked through the dirty side window.

  The inside was dark. I made out a table, with the chairs turned upside down from closing. One thing was clear: no one was here.

  Huddled into myself for warmth, I fumbled in my pocket for my phone and set up a text message for Len.

  Me: I’m at work. You’re not. What’s up?

  Waiting was pointless, so I hurried back to my car. At least the wind no longer added to the cold factor. My phone vibrated.