Friend (With Benefits) Zone

by Laura Brown

  I finished the water. I could always take the pill later. I still had time. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours yet. No use freaking myself out over a tiny little pill.

  I closed my eyes. I had no clue if I was doing the right thing or not. Take the pill. I got up and collected my phone from its charger instead. Later. I’d worry about it later.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Devon

  TWO P.M. THAT’S how long it took to get a text from Jas.

  Jas: Staying at Mom’s. Cleaning up for her return.

  Bullshit. Connie had months before she’d be well enough to return home.

  I pushed my cell away and returned to my work, doing my best not to stare at words from . . . who was she to me anymore? My ex? My former best friend? Just Jasmine?

  None of those labels felt right. The whole situation sucked. The only thing good about the damned day was knowing I no longer had to work here after graduation.

  My phone vibrated again, and I lunged for it like an addict. Only it wasn’t from Jas.

  Pete: If you two are done fighting, we can all hang out again tonight, but Jas isn’t allowed to mix any alcohol.

  I tapped my phone, figuring out the best way to respond.

  Me: We’re done. Text her if you want to hang.

  Pete: What do you mean: done?

  Me: What do you think I mean? She’s staying at her mom’s place.

  Pete: Shit. I thought you two were indestructible.

  Me too.

  Me: Make sure you know what you’re getting into with Nikki.

  Pete: Wow, she ran you over if you’re warning me.

  I tossed my phone back on the desk and gave serious contemplation to fucking it all and getting the hell out of there. Blake stopped in before I had a chance to move.

  “You need to spend a healthy amount of time with that punching bag.”

  Best idea of the day.

  Blake pulled two sodas from the fridge and handed one to me. “Any update on Jas?”

  I showed him the text.

  He pressed his lips together. “You two do a lot of damage. You going to fix things?”

  “I can’t.”

  Blake leaned over my desk. “Don’t turn this into your job, where you push it off until the last possible minute. If you do that with her, you’ll lose her for good.”

  I shook my head and was saved by Dad entering. “You get through to him?” he asked Blake of me.

  “Not yet. He needs to grow some balls.”

  Fucking family.

  Dad joined Blake in leaning over me. I should have stood up to show them I was taller. “Women don’t wait. They move on, and their anger grows.”

  I pushed my chair back, needing some space. “What she wants and I want are different. I found out her future doesn’t involve me in any role other than friend.” Like the label, it didn’t feel right. But the answer lay in her hands.

  Both men straightened. Blake signed first. “I suspect she’s lying to herself.”

  “This is who she molded herself into. It’s up to her if she wants to change.”

  Dad eyed my wrist. “What are you going to do about the tattoo?”

  “Keep it.”

  A wry smile crossed Dad’s face. “When a man loves a woman, he does whatever it takes to keep her.”

  “If I try, she’ll run the other way.” And it grated, this powerless feeling. This knowledge that even though I knew her better than anyone else, nothing I could do would fix things.

  “So maybe you need a different tactic.” Dad patted my shoulder and turned to the door. I gave Blake a meaningful look. He shook his head.

  “When a man loves a man, he needs to get over himself and move out.”

  Blake rubbed his neck, then stomped and called for Dad in a loud voice. Dad and I had similar hearing levels, Mom had none, and Blake had no hearing loss at all.

  Dad faced us, eyebrows raised, looking back and forth to figure out which one of us called for him.

  “I’m planning on moving in with Shawn,” Blake signed.

  “The guy we recently met?”

  “My boyfriend, yes.”

  Dad nodded and pointed at me. “You going to be able to afford your own place?”

  “I’ll figure something out.”

  Dad studied Blake. “You’re serious about him?”

  Blake squared his shoulders. “Yes.”

  Dad looked between the two of us, silence engulfing the room. “Don’t mess things up like Devon.”

  “Thanks,” I signed, though neither of them paid me any attention.

  Dad left, and Blake collapsed into the chair next to me. “See, that wasn’t that bad,” I signed.

  Blake smiled. “I suspect you softened him up.”

  “Right, whatever you want to believe.”

  “Need help figuring out how to win Jasmine back?”

  Not yet. I needed to make sure it was right for her. “We’ll see.”

  I ARRIVED HOME to an empty apartment. No chance to see Jas getting ready for her old job. No chance to find her waiting for me. My heavy heart weighed me down, fought against the growing desire to fix this. That’s what I did. I fixed things. But this issue between us had no fixing.

  I went to my room to change into workout clothes and froze at the sight of my closet: half empty. None of Jas’s clothes were hanging up. I checked around, finding her other knickknacks and things gone. She had ripped herself right out of my life.

  Then I noticed the box in the bottom of my closet, the one that held her father’s belongings. A glimmer of hope ignited. Her box would have been safe at her mother’s apartment, but she’d left it here, with me.

  She’d be back.

  Chapter Forty

  Devon

  ONE WEEK HAD passed. Seven long days. Seven longer nights. No more communication from Jas. I left the ball in her court, waiting on her. I feared I’d be waiting for too damn long.

  For now, I nursed a beer with Blake, a rare night with the both of us home alone.

  “Why haven’t you gone after her?” Blake asked.

  I fiddled with the label of my drink. “She needs time.” When I looked up, I found Blake staring me down.

  “You can’t be serious.”

  My spine straightened. “Of course I’m serious.”

  He laughed, the sound grating against my ears. “Same story. Different woman.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Blake pushed his beer aside. “You’ve always dated like you were trying out a bag of chips, and if you didn’t like it, you were happy to toss it aside and forget about it.”

  “You implying I’m forgetting about Jasmine?”

  “I’m implying that it looks that way. You still can’t keep a girlfriend for longer than two weeks.”

  “Jas is different.”

  Blake held out his hands to the empty apartment. “Looks the same.”

  I rubbed my neck. This wasn’t my intention. But if I tried anything else, she’d have my head. And not the good one either.

  Blake’s signs interrupted my thoughts. “Why don’t you commit?”

  I clenched my fists before releasing them. “You know why.”

  “Sign it.”

  I took in a deep breath and contemplated ramming my fist into my brother’s face. “I wasn’t going to commit to someone when my heart belonged to Jas.”

  “And still, you’ve lost her real quick.”

  “Because life got in the way.”

  “I’m going to offer you some advice that you haven’t needed until now: relationships take work. I know she’s scared, and life’s thrown her some tough shit. More than that, she knows you, knows your track record. Prove to her she’s not just another bag of chips.” He left his beer on the table, patted my shoulder like I was ten, and left me alone.

  It wasn’t true. I hadn’t let Jas go because her time was up. I’d let her go because . . . because she needed it. And those thoughts barely held water in my head. Was th
ere some truth to Blake’s signs? No, of course not. No one mattered to me the way Jas did.

  I pulled out my phone, tapped the screen until Jas’s dormant text thread popped up. Then I chugged down the rest of my beer. It took several tries to get some words out that weren’t pathetic.

  Me: I want to know if you’re OK. I miss you. The friend. The girlfriend. Us.

  Me: Just tell me you’re OK.

  I set my phone on the table and finished off Blake’s beer. I stared at the screen until my vision blurred. She wasn’t going to answer me.

  Then, when I was about to give up, my phone vibrated and flashed to life.

  Jas: I’m OK.

  Come home. Meet me. We’ll work something out.

  Jas: Miss you too.

  Me: So come over.

  Jas: Not yet.

  Me: I wanted you to be the one to break my longevity record.

  Jas: Don’t you remember? We’ve been secretly dating each other for years. I think I’ve got this one in the bag.

  I smiled even as another tiny piece tore off my heart.

  Me: The record was made for you.

  Jas: I have to go. You OK?

  I tapped the phone with my thumb, wrestling with needy-ass words.

  Me: I’m fine.

  I pushed my phone to the center of the table, where it lit up but didn’t flash, didn’t change. A minute passed, and the screen turned black. The record would always belong to her. I could only hope we’d work things out and make it even longer.

  TWO DAYS LATER, my patience wore thin. I’d had a shitty day, starting with a test I was sure I bombed. I followed that up with a trip to Support Services, where I intercepted an altercation before it turned into a fistfight. Then I headed to Dad’s office at his request and spent two hours working on another computer problem.

  I needed a beer or Jas to whip up one of her drunk-in-one-gulp concoctions. Only there was no bar to go to, no Jas to serve me.

  I settled for the beer in my fridge. Things grew hazy around my fourth or fifth beer—I wasn’t sure of the exact count, only that I had texted Pete and he banged his way into the apartment.

  “You look like shit,” he signed while taking in the mess of beer bottles on the table. I had tried to shape them into a word, but I didn’t have enough yet.

  “Thanks,” I answered, only I signed it with my middle finger instead of an open palm.

  Pete shook his head and straddled a chair. “You ready to crawl?”

  I shook my head and the room spun. “No. Do you know where she is?”

  “No. She locks down, you know this.”

  Defeat surged up, until I remembered that Pete didn’t know where Jas was staying, but I did. I fumbled for my phone, my fingers not following commands, and eventually got the thread up where she told me she was at her mom’s.

  I shoved the phone into Pete’s hands and stood to get my coat. The floor vibrated.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

  I swayed and used the wall to keep upright. “We need to talk.”

  “We’re talking.”

  “No. Not you-and-me we, Jas-and-me—us—we.”

  “You are not talking to her drunk. Go to bed. I’m sitting by the door to keep you in.” He stood and crossed his arms.

  “I need to see her. Need to show her she’s not a bag of chips. Need to find out if she took the pill.” My thoughts scrambled together; the only clear thing was that I needed to see her. Now.

  “You are making no sense. If you go, you’re going to crawl.”

  I threw his jacket at him. “Fine. Let’s crawl.”

  My plan backfired when we got to Connie’s building and I realized I had no way in. Jas’s car was in the lot, so I knew she was there. But I didn’t know if she’d let me see her.

  I picked up a rock and walked along the side of the building, trying to remember which window belonged to Connie. Pete grabbed my shoulder and tossed the rock back on the ground.

  “No,” he signed in the limited streetlight, “you’ll break a window and wind up in jail.”

  I shrugged free and focused on the front door when it opened. I debated if I could run and grab the door before it latched in time, but then I saw who had exited the building. Someone with blond curls and straight posture. Jas. She carried a bag of trash, and I didn’t know whether to be grateful that she threw out trash in the middle of the night or angry that she threw out trash in the middle of the night.

  I stomped over to the trash receptacle as she threw the bag in. She caught my movement and turned in a blur of curls, one hand over her heart. Her face morphed, eyes narrowing, mouth thinning. It was then I knew I’d been wrong and should’ve listened to Pete.

  “What are you doing here?” she signed one-handed, the other propped on her hip.

  “I needed to see you.”

  She spread out her hands. “Well, now you have.” She made as if to turn, and I knew I had to sign something, fast, to keep her here.

  “Did you take the pill?”

  Her gaze fell to her shoe, which kicked at a few pebbles. “No. I told you, I’ll be fine. We don’t need it.” Her chin jutted up in a challenge. All I saw was the hurt beneath the façade.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. You aren’t a bag of chips. You’re Jasmine. The only bag of chips.”

  Her eyebrows lowered, and she studied me. “You’re drunk. Go home.” She looked around. “Wait, how did you get here?”

  I pointed behind me to where I presumed Pete was. I didn’t sign his name, but Jas waved to a spot over my shoulder. “Go home.”

  “No. Not until you let me take care of you. Please. I have to take care of you.”

  “No one takes care of me. And you know that. Our futures don’t match.”

  “Fuck the future! I don’t care about that. Work at a bar. Don’t have kids. It’s fine. We’ll make it work.”

  Her eyes watered. “It won’t work.” She took in a deep breath, and I noticed all she had on was a sweatshirt. Mine. “I need my box.”

  Hope evaporated. My one remaining tie to her. “What box?” I wasn’t giving it up.

  “Don’t be an asshole. You know what I’m talking about.”

  “I thought you took it. I haven’t seen it.”

  Her eyes grew wide, and I felt like a prick. I needed to let her know it was safe and she didn’t need to worry. I couldn’t bring my hands to move.

  We stayed that way, staring at each other, the past few weeks of dating fading away. Years of friendship fading along with it, leaving two virtual strangers. I never thought we’d be this way, even if we lost touch somewhere down the line. Our connection had been too strong for too long. She’d always be my yin.

  Now, I wasn’t so sure. Maybe in five years I’d meet her again and find her tattoo removed. Maybe I’d find her settled down, married, with kids that weren’t mine. Maybe I’d find her on her own, happy as could be.

  Maybe I wouldn’t find her at all.

  “I’m going inside.” She glanced over my shoulder. “Take him home and get him some water.” Then, without a glance, she walked back into the building and out of my life. Jas always ran, but for the first time, I watched. And did nothing.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Jasmine

  Nikki: Hello, new best friend reporting for duty, though I might go after your ex since you continue to ignore the world! Don’t make us choose sides.

  I CLOSED MY eyes against Nikki’s words. Direct sucker punch. And I deserved every bit of it, even if Dev being described as my ex felt plain wrong.

  Me: I know. I’m sorry. How’s Pete?

  Nikki: Good, except we’re scared. You and Dev were our idols, and you imploded.

  Me: You and Pete don’t have our baggage.

  Nikki: Sweetie, the baggage is all yours.

  I took a shaky breath and checked on my surroundings. The little beverage area at the rehab was nice enough to provide even guests with coffee.

  Nikki:
How are you? Honest.

  Me: Honest? Like shit.

  Nikki: Then get him back!

  I shook my head at my phone, as if we were on a video call and not text.

  Me: He wants a future I can’t give him.

  Drunk Dev be damned, I knew what he really wanted. And I knew better than to take his drunk ramblings as fact.

  Nikki: He wants you and whatever future you come with.

  Me: It’s better this way. Trust me.

  Nikki: Come over tonight and prove it.

  Not like I had any plans. And if I didn’t agree, I’d never make it out of the tiny beverage area.

  Me: Fine.

  Nikki: I’m worried about you.

  Join the club. I’d never felt quite so aimless before, as though there were two different versions of me but I no longer knew which one was real.

  I added creamer to my coffee and sugar to Mom’s, then made my way back to her room. I’d spent the last few days here with her—sure beat being alone in her apartment.

  Will, the nurse who knew some ASL, waved as I walked past. Since my hands were full, I gave him a nod, then slipped into Mom’s room. She gave me a look as I set the coffees down.

  “He likes you,” she signed.

  I turned, finding a clear view of the nurses’ station and Will bent over some paperwork. He was too short, too lean, and his hair wasn’t dark enough. “Not for me.”

  Mom picked up her cup and took a sip. “It’s hard when you give your heart over to one person.”

  I nearly spit my hot coffee all over her. “I still have my heart, thank you.”

  Mom shook her head, her eyes sad. “No, you don’t. I watched you give it away in elementary school.”

  I rubbed my temples. “Can we not discuss this?”

  “Today? Fine. Tomorrow’s a different story.”

  I rolled my neck, stretched my toes, and thought of the real problem. “I don’t want a family.”

  “Then you should have thought about that back in elementary school, when you made him part of yours.”

  “As a friend.”

  Mom laughed. “You two were always closer than friends. You want to fix your life? He’s the answer.”

  “I don’t need some guy to take care of me.” I flailed my hands wide, nearly knocking over my coffee.