Friend (With Benefits) Zone

by Laura Brown

  Len: The bar is closed.

  Me: I got that. What’s up?

  Len: Closed. Finished. Done.

  The words took time to fully sink into my veins, weighing me down like lead. My job, my livelihood, gone.

  No. I wouldn’t give up that quickly.

  Me: I can run it.

  I bit my lip as my pulse beat against my neck. He had to know I’d do a better job than he would.

  Len: No.

  Me: What do you have to lose? Give me a few days and then decide.

  Len: No.

  I gripped my phone, frustrated vibrations building in my chest. Responding was pointless. He wouldn’t budge.

  I tossed my phone on the passenger seat and banged my head on the steering wheel. For years I had searched for another job, unable to find one. It wouldn’t be any different now that I was out of work.

  I cranked the engine but didn’t shift gears out of Park. I had no place else to go. Home. But now that Dev and I had finally worked things out, I wouldn’t be able to contribute to the rent.

  I refused to have him take care of me. I wasn’t his problem. I was my own problem. There had to be another way. Maybe it was time to put this bar dream behind me. Clearly the universe was against me.

  One thing remained certain: nothing good ever happened to Jasmine Helmsman.

  I drove around aimlessly for a while, not ready to share this latest shit storm with anyone. Dev’s words from the other day came to mind, about other housing options that didn’t involve him. It physically hurt to contemplate them, but I was no one’s burden.

  An hour later I ended up back at the Walkers’ apartment building. I parked but didn’t get out of the car. Not yet. With any luck, Dev wouldn’t be planning on visiting me at work. Although if he did, he’d save me any explanations.

  I leaned back against the headrest. This sucked. Life sucked. Whenever something good came my way, something else got ripped away. I should have known better. Dev and I were friends. This relationship, this happy-couple shit that could morph into more, that wasn’t who I was. My life showed me time and time again that happiness wasn’t for me. And the harder I tried to hold onto it, the worse the situation became.

  And my moping was making me sick. I needed to be strong and independent. But the only way out of the current arrangement would break my boyfriend’s heart.

  And mine, but this was my life. I became immune years ago.

  My jumbled thoughts and emotions no longer made sense. And I was tired, so very, very tired. Maybe he wouldn’t be home and I could curl up in his bed and will the world away.

  Of course, his car parked not too far away killed that idea. Time to face him.

  I didn’t move.

  I could drive around instead, maybe find a bar in need of help for the night, prove myself. But that was stupid, no one wanted a deaf cocktail waitress or bartender. And if they did, they wouldn’t want me walking in off the street.

  Still, I pulled out my phone, checked a few job listings. Two had potential, but one wanted phone calls only. The other had an email address, and I sent them a message.

  It didn’t feel right. Nothing felt right.

  Time to wave the white flag. I clicked on my text folder and found Dev’s thread.

  Me: Change in plans. Another bar in my life has closed down.

  Dev: You’re shitting me?

  Me: Would I joke about this?

  Dev: Where are you?

  I looked up at the building. I could see Blake’s window from this angle, not Dev’s.

  Me: Parking lot.

  My fingers hovered over the keys, wanting to tell him to leave me alone and let me handle this on my own. Instead I sent the text.

  I didn’t know which parking lot he thought I was in, but he found me five minutes later, his eyes so full of worry that I had the urge to crawl into him. But that was someone else’s story, not mine.

  “Come upstairs,” he signed from two cars away.

  “Why?” I couldn’t stay in the car forever, but the minute I left, everything would become more real.

  “So I can hold you.”

  Amid all the desire to flee and not be his burden, a hug sounded good. Damn good. By the time I collected my stuff and reached for my door, he was there, opening it from the other side. I stood, the cold air wrapping around me seconds before Dev did.

  I buried into his shoulder, clutching his shirt. I was weak for him. Tough girl Jas was MIA.

  In that moment, I didn’t care.

  He pulled back and brushed at my dry cheeks. “Come upstairs, it’s cold.”

  That’s when I noticed he didn’t even have a jacket on. He wore short sleeves in thirty-degree weather and couldn’t have known I was here and not still at the bar.

  That did something funny to my insides. Not that I expected much different from Dev, but not even bothering with a jacket to get to me . . .

  No, I couldn’t go there. We were two separate people, end of story. Our yin-yang tattoos be damned.

  In his apartment, he instructed me to sit on the couch, then went to the kitchen, opening cabinets and the refrigerator, before snatching something off the counter. “Want?” He held out the chocolate chip macaroons that I had completely forgotten about.

  I held out my hands. “Gimme.”

  He tossed the package, and I had the first macaroon in my mouth before the cushion shifted from his weight. The coconut taste mixed in with chocolate, reminding me of my youth, of those happy Passover gatherings when everyone was still alive.

  I handed the package to Dev, and he took a bite. “Not bad.”

  I leaned back against the couch, hugging the macaroons to my chest. Unable to shake the feeling my entire life was in quicksand.

  Dev finished another macaroon and wiped his hands on his pants. “You want to have some fun or figure out a new game plan?”

  Wallow. I wanted to wallow. I shrugged and stuffed my mouth with a macaroon.

  “You’re not getting any crazy ideas, right? You’re staying. No question.”

  I nodded, hoping he wouldn’t see the false emotion behind it. Truth was, I had no direction or plans. All I knew was that I needed to fight this latest battle on my own. As long as I remained responsible for only myself, I’d somehow find a way out.

  Of course, I hadn’t anticipated the hurt that thought would create while looking at him. I wanted to memorize him, from the shaggy hair, to the thick eyebrows, to those long eyelashes that made his blue eyes pop, to the tiny dip in his cheek that had come from a wrestling match with his brother.

  I wasn’t ready to lose this new bond between us. I needed a moment out of the quicksand, where nothing else mattered. No money or jobs or life. Just me and my yang.

  I put the macaroons down and straddled him, sliding my body up next to his. He sucked in a breath, and I kissed him. His lips and tongue created that soothing excitement exclusive to him. And all my emotion boiled up and tumbled out, from my mouth to his, my heart to his.

  His hands tightened around my waist as I fought against the emotional overload. At this moment, he was the quicksand, and I feared I’d never come out on top. I attempted to extricate myself from him, but his hands slipped under my shirt, brushed against my bare skin, and I was lost in him.

  He gave what he took. Somehow in his lips and his hand sliding up to cup my breast, warmth not related to sex consumed me. I felt loved, accepted. I felt how much he wanted me.

  But it had nothing to do with his hard length I rubbed against. This wasn’t us having fun for the sake of having fun. This was us being close, connected, giving to each other.

  I pulled back. Too much, and my body hated my movement. Dev grinned, that naughty grin that made me want to push his face into my chest, or lower. “Good idea. Blake could come home.” Then he swooped me into his arms and carried me into his room.

  He carried me. That had never happened before. I kissed him before my eyes could tear up.

  Something my father had tol
d me resurfaced. “Love means taking care of another person. Not because they need it but because you want to.” Dev always took care of me. Even though that was him to the core, with me it was always about want, never need.

  He laid me on his bed, covering my body with his. There was far too much emotion in every look, every touch. I couldn’t leave if I wanted to since Dev had my heart.

  This was sweet lovemaking. I needed hard sex. I needed us to be downstairs in the laundry room again, banging on top of a machine. Anything to prevent this fall.

  I flipped Dev over. None of my turmoil was on his face. “You want control?” Then he folded his hands behind his head.

  I didn’t know if I could look at him. Maybe I needed a different position, one in which I wouldn’t be able to look at him and wouldn’t see how much he cared. But him beneath me, handing over all control, had both my heart and libido enraptured.

  His shirt hit the floor. Followed by his pants. I wasted no time, desperate to get out of my head for five fucking minutes. I needed the passion, the all-consuming heat. I needed my brain powered down so I could feel without consequence. He was hard, gloriously so, and I couldn’t help myself; I wrapped my lips around him, let his smooth skin slip back and forth between my lips.

  His chest rose and fell with frequent breaths, eyes shut tight. This man could do things to me with hardly a glance. And as much as I loved tasting him, I needed mindless, and I needed it now.

  I released him and practically tore my bar clothes off, then grabbed the condom. I licked my lips as he rolled the latex down his length, already envisioning how it would feel when he plunged into me. The moment he finished, I straddled him, anticipation rattling my calm. Eyes locked, I slid down, taking him all in.

  Instead of looking away, I watched him as I began to move. The pleasure on his face, the grip of his hands on my hips, it was everything I could ever want. Dev wasn’t a man out for his own pleasure alone. Every touch, every kiss, meant something. He could twitch, and I’d somehow climb higher.

  His face held all the emotions that battled inside me. But unlike me, he let it show. He wore his passion and heart and gave it all to me. The control I had spiraled, my thoughts spiraled, until it was only us, and nothing else in the world mattered. We were in that blissful place where reality didn’t matter, because Dev was in me. He shifted up, took a breast into his mouth. I could only feel, all my nerves pooled to those two spots where we connected. When his tongue brushed me, everything burst in a fistful of confetti, my orgasm shaking me to my core as I pumped through, prolonging every last drop of enjoyment.

  He joined me. I came back to reality plastered to him, his breath teasing my hair. I closed my eyes, breathed him in. I wanted to keep him. Like this, with me, forever.

  I just had no idea how.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Devon

  I STAYED AWAKE long after Jas fell asleep. Reminiscent of those nights in the past when my hormones had made it difficult to sleep so close to her. Now worry kept me awake. Worry about how this new turn of events would affect her.

  Worry about how it would affect us.

  Jas wouldn’t lean on me. She wouldn’t let me care for her. And the reality of being unemployed for a while was huge. Which meant she really needed to get over it and let us work through this together.

  But she wouldn’t.

  I had a fine line to walk in order to keep her here. Not that she had many other options. If we were a true couple, we’d get through this together. It didn’t matter that we were just starting to date; we’d been an us for over a decade.

  Thoughts battled, but no answers came before I fell asleep. In the morning I moved on autopilot—which included making myself a matzo sandwich I was growing damn sick of—got ready for the day, went to class, then work.

  I couldn’t tell you what I worked on or even if I did it right. Everything was as bland as the matzo Jas had me eating. I did what I had to do until I could return to Jas and figure out a way to help her.

  Dad interrupted me at one point, tapping the table and causing the numbers under my nose to jumble together. “You OK?” he signed once I looked up from the numerical mess.

  I looked at him, head spinning in too many directions, back and forth between Jas’s problems and mine. Part of me wanted to share, to lay it all out on the table. Dad had excellent problem-solving skills, if the issues weren’t too close to home. Unfortunately for me, my issue was home. I gave a fleeting thought to him having some magical answer to her employment issues, when I knew he wouldn’t. And who was I to bring up my own job-related woes when Jas’s dream might be dead in the water? How could I push forward when she was stuck?

  Another idea added to the chaos: if I sucked it up and stayed here, I could help her with her dream. The stability and income of working for Dad would generate a surplus, one that could be used to help Jas open her bar. I’d be miserable, but seeing her smile would be worth it. She deserved her happiness far more than I did, since being with her gave me part of mine.

  “I’m fine,” I eventually signed.

  Dad studied me, not buying my signs. The truth was, I kept a lot from him; I had to. “We need more information from Charlie. He doesn’t do well with phone calls. Feel up to visiting?”

  It got me out of here. “Sure.” I stood and grabbed the papers Dad held out. Only he didn’t let go. He eyed my wrist, the same way he’d been doing for a few days now. That far-too-familiar look of parental disapproval. A reminder of how much this wasn’t a match for me. A flash of guilt crawled into my veins, and I hesitated. If not for this job, I’d have no means of helping Jas. But it didn’t change my dreams, dreams which Jas supported.

  I let go of the papers. “I don’t want this job.” My hands moved small, and the minute I finished I wanted to take it back.

  “Because of a tattoo?” Dad nearly laughed.

  “Because I’m a social worker.”

  “That’s why I have you visit Charlie.” He dropped the papers on the desk, then turned and left, as if I had let him know I didn’t like broccoli, not his job. Whenever I brought up anything related to social work, Dad changed the subject. He didn’t want to acknowledge that my wants differed from his. And I was growing damn tired of letting him call the shots.

  I moved to go after him, but a door slammed down the hall, and I bet it was his. I had half a mind to walk out and not come back. But then both Jas and I would be out of work, and I didn’t want to burden Blake with the both of us.

  So I collected the papers and headed to my car. At least visiting Charlie was work I enjoyed, even if it was for the wrong reasons.

  I cranked the radio as loud as it would go, the vibrations and heavy bass soothing as they jumped along my skin and tickled my ears. I wanted fresh air on my face, but the damn noise was loud enough as it was for hearing people. At least the radio did the trick, calming me down so that I wouldn’t bring any shit into Charlie’s home. I shook off the rest of my aggression on the walkway to his home and rang the bell.

  This time, when he opened the door, he smiled. “Good to see you again,” he signed.

  I held up the packet of papers. “Don’t tell me that before you find out why I’m here.”

  Still, Charlie smiled, and I followed him to his kitchen table once again. In all my anger, I hadn’t taken one look at the papers and realized I was not prepared at all for the visit. I opened up the folder and started sorting through, noting he had a lot more investments than I anticipated.

  Charlie tapped the table. “Tattoo?” he asked, white eyebrows raised high as he pointed to my wrist.

  Shit. “Yes, I got it recently.”

  I didn’t know what to expect, not with the way everyone was on my case for a little ink. Charlie proved once again to not be what I anticipated. He nodded and grinned, then pushed up his sleeve to the eagle on his upper arm.

  It was a beautiful black job, a little faded from time, but it still looked damn good. “Nice.”

  “I
thought you were a straightlaced kid.”

  I laughed at that. “Not really.”

  Charlie settled back in his chair. “Good. I don’t like the uptight ones. Life’s too precious to be uptight.”

  Probably why my girlfriend wanted to own a bar rather than work a nine-to-five job. “You want to tell that to my father?”

  Charlie shook his head. “Not at all. Part of growing up is fighting your own battles.”

  I froze at that, thought of Jas. Only difference was she’d been fighting her own battles for years now. “Sometimes it’s nice to have help.”

  “Yes, but when it’s important to you, only you can make it right.”

  I pointed to the papers in between us, but Charlie brushed me off. “You want to solve your IRS issue?” I asked.

  “You don’t want to do this job.”

  Shit. I was screwed if I was that obvious. “Want and real life are two different things.”

  “I’ve been there. Some days you play the game to get ahead. Other days you realize the game sucks and you need to be happy.”

  “Which one did you do at twenty-two?”

  Charlie laughed. “At twenty-two I was awful. I didn’t know what I wanted, had too much anger at the world. Later, around thirty, I figured it out. You don’t seem that clueless.”

  I wasn’t—at least I hoped I wasn’t.

  “The more you ignore your wants, the worse it becomes. I know that now.” He rubbed his hands together. “What do you have for me?”

  A healthy dose of respect. If all my accounting clients were like this guy, I’d be happy. But I knew that wouldn’t be the case. And there was still all that paperwork shit. Together we dug in, found the missing pieces. I got everything I needed, then stayed and chatted awhile longer.

  When I collected the papers and got ready to go, Charlie surprised me again. “Who has the other half? Boy? Girl?”

  I nearly laughed. “Girl. My best friend.”

  Charlie’s eyebrows rose high. “Friend only?”

  “No.”

  “She special?”

  How had we gotten here? “Very.”

  Charlie nodded, long and slow. I hadn’t known him long, but I suspected another little token of wisdom would follow. “Her happiness comes first. There’s plenty of time in life to make something of yourself. But if you lose her, the success might not be worth it.”