Comfort Zone (Awkward Love Book 4)

by Missy Johnson

  “No, I’ve got nothing against her. She’s the one who hates me,” Becca corrects.

  “And let me guess, you have no idea why?”

  “It’s true. When he first told me about this amazing girl he was seeing, I thought awesome, we’re totally going to be friends. But right from our first meeting, she made it clear she hated me.”

  “It’s funny,” I muse. “I’ve met her a handful of times and she seems like an easygoing, laid-back kind of girl.”

  “That’s not the side I see,” she shakes her head. “I don’t know what to do. There’s only so many times I can try and be friends with her.”

  “Maybe she’s threatened with how close you are to Jake?” I suggest.

  Becca frowns. “You think she’s jealous of me?”

  I shrug. “It’s not that farfetched.”

  I look up as Jake wanders back in looking exhausted. He glowers at Becca.

  “Thanks for that.”

  She shrugs. “Call it payback for 2005.”

  “Hold up, what was 2005?” I ask.

  Jake grins. “I convinced Becca that S&M stood for sweet and meaningful.”

  “You conveniently left out the part where you told me that while I was setting up my online chat profile,” Becca retorts. “Announcing that you’re fifteen, female and looking for someone to have S&M conversations with?” She shudders. “Well, let’s just say I had a lot of unwanted chat requests.”

  I laugh and shake my head. These two have such a strong friendship I’m beginning to see why Brooke is the way she is toward Becca.

  “Sorry, but I’m on his side.” I grin. “I can’t believe you were gullible enough to believe that.”

  “I’m pretty sure it’s your turn now, right?” Jake raises his eyebrows. Even though his comment is directed at Becca, I groan internally.

  Why do I feel like this is going to involve me?

  “Fine.” Becca shrugs. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  His eyes fall on me and his smile widens. I knew this was coming.

  “Make out with Liam.”

  Becca looks confused, and then she laughs. And then she stops laughing.

  “Wait, your serious?” she scoffs. “Make out? What am I, ten?”

  “Making out at ten?” Jake chortles. “That explains a lot, actually.”

  “Shut up,” Becca growls. “No. I can’t do that. I won’t. He’s my professor. Surely that’s against the law or something?”

  “Nope. Only if you’re not legal, and there’s no way you pass as underage,” Jake cracks.

  “Gee, thanks,” Becca mutters.

  She stands up and glares at me like this is my fault. Somehow, with the one step she has to take to get to me, she loses her balance and falls straight onto my lap.

  “You’re keen,” I say, putting my arm around her to steady her. She shrugs me off and straightens herself up. “Exactly how much have you had to drink?”

  I’m only half joking. The last thing I want to do is take advantage of her, but if I’m honest with myself, I was hoping something like this would happen.

  “Relax, I’m far from intoxicated,” she assures me.

  “Then it must have been my charm that had you stumbling at my feet.”

  She narrows her eyes at me and balances and swings her legs around so she’s straddling me. My heart pounds as she cradles my face and stares into my eyes, while we both pretend that what’s happening inside my pants isn’t happening. Well, I’m pretending at least. She’s not bothering to hide her amusement at all.

  “Someone’s excited,” she murmurs, her eyes glistening.

  She gently slides herself back and forth over my erection, her eyes not leaving mine as she works me like a fucking jack-in-the-box. I grip hold of the arm of the chair, too nervous to do anything other than sit there.

  I should stop this. I should be the adult here and not let this go any further than, than…

  Hold up, what was I talking about?

  She inches her lips closer to mine, the desire sparking between us, until she presses her mouth against mine. Her lips, soft and gentle are different to what I was expecting. Her tongue wraps around mine as I taste her sweetness. I reach up and touch her cheek, my mouth tingling as our mouths touch. I sigh, the sound of Jake and his friends cheering feels like it’s a million miles away, like we’re the only two people in the room.

  Eventually she pulls away, but her gaze still lingers on mine. I turn my attention to Garry, who the game has moved on to, ignoring the heat of her stare. The last thing I need is for her to know how much I enjoyed that kiss.

  Or how much I want to do it again.

  Chapter Six

  Becca

  I groan and attempt to lift my head off the pillow, but like everything today, it’s just too hard. I make it about an inch before collapsing back down into the softness of my bed. Rolling over, I crack open my eyes and look around.

  Good God, that hurts.

  Daylight pierces through my eyes, nearly blinding me. I moan as it penetrates my skull, leaving my head feeling like it’s being cracked open with a jackhammer. When the thumping starts up again, I realize it’s not just in my head.

  Who the fuck would visit me this early and where in God’s name are my parents?

  After five more minutes of knocking, I give up and roll out of my bed. I pull myself to my feet and stumble out of my room, using every ounce of my strength not to vomit. The room spins as I fumble my way to the front door. I yank it open when I eventually find it and fall straight into a strong pair of arms. I look up, relieved to see it’s my friend Laura, holding me, and not the solar panel guy who’d stopped by yesterday.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Laura giggles, as I nestle against her chest. She guides me back inside and closes the door. “Are you trying to breastfeed off me? Because I can assure you they’re well and truly dry.”

  “No, you idiot, I’m trying to numb the pain and your bosom is comforting,” I mumble.

  The words stick in my throat like cotton candy. God, even talking hurts. I let her lead me over to the couch and sit down, resting my head back against the cushions.

  “Well, that explains why you missed our lunch date.”

  “Oh shit.” I groan. “It was Jake’s bachelor party last night. I think I drank too much.”

  “I figured,” Laura says. “That’s why I’m here. To make sure you were still alive.”

  “Barely,” I mutter, rubbing my face.

  Laura and Jake have met a few times, but I wouldn’t call them friends. He did invite her last night, but finding a sitter is always a challenge for Laura, as is getting time off work.

  “Sit down and I’ll make you coffee.” She grins at me before disappearing into the kitchen. “I take it you had fun, then?” she calls out.

  “Fun,” I mumble as I faceplant into the couch. I roll over and stare at the ceiling, a frown on my face. “Actually, I can’t remember whether fun was had or not.”

  The drive to the club with Mom flashes through my head.

  Shit, Dad was in the hospital.

  I stand up, waiting the few seconds for the dizziness to subside before I disappear into my room in search of my phone. When I don’t find it in the bed, or on my nightstand, I give up and go back out to Laura.

  “So, tell me about your night?”

  “I would, if I could actually remember any of it,” I grumble. “Hey, can I borrow your phone?”

  “Sure,” she says, handing it to me. “Where’s yours?”

  I shrug and punch in Mom’s number, then lift the phone to my ear.

  “I don’t know, but I need to see how my dad is.”

  “Your dad?” she repeats, her eyes widening. “What happened?”

  “Laura?” Mom’s voice cuts in before I can respond to Laura. “Have you seen Becca?”

  “This is Becca,” I reply, yawning.

  “Finally,” Mom gasps. “I’ve been trying get a hold of you for hours. Where the hell
have you been?”

  “I’m at home.” I frown. “Where are you? How’s Dad?”

  “Oh he’s fine. We’re still at the hospital because they were concerned about a blood clot. It’s you we’ve been worrying about.”

  “Me?” I laugh nervously. “Why would you be worried about me?”

  “Maybe you should check your Facebook and then ask me that,” she sighs. “This is probably my fault. I never had the talk with you about the harm that sexy photos can do. Sure, they’re great for sparking up a dying marriage. I can vouch for that—”

  “I’m twenty-seven, not fifteen,” I reply. “I don’t need a lecture on sexting.”

  “Fine, then maybe a lesson in social media, because you clearly need to learn a thing or two about selfies,” Mom snaps. “Look I have to go. The physio is here for your father. Just call me back later, okay?”

  “Sure,” I mumble.

  I end the call and click on Laura’s Facebook page. What the hell is she talking about? Selfies? I never take selfies. I’m the queen of avoiding the camera whenever it’s pointed at me. I click on my profile and—

  Fuck.

  I avoid the camera, except for last night, apparently.

  “Oh shit.”

  “What’s wrong?” Laura asks. She dances impatiently around me, trying to see what I’m looking at. “Becca, I’m going to kill you if—”

  She stops when I turn the phone around, so she can see. Her eyes widen as she bursts out laughing at the sight of me sitting in my professor’s lap, flashing a whole lot of cheek, with my lips glued to his.

  Beneath it, I’d written;

  How to guarantee yourself a pass: show your professor how to work a pussy…

  “Oh, Becs, you didn’t. See?” Laura lets out a gleeful laugh. “This is why I need to check my Facebook more.”

  “I’m guessing you don’t mean so that you could hunt me down and warn me about this.”

  I log out of her account and into mine, so I can quickly delete the offending photo and double check there aren’t any more. I can’t believe this. I don’t even remember kissing him. God, I don’t remember much at all.

  What if this is the least of my worries?

  What if someone sees this and I get kicked out of my course, or something? I’ve all but admitted that I was kissing him to pass the class. I’ve cast doubt over all my results with this one little photo. I walk back over to the couch and throw myself down, covering my face with a cushion.

  Fuck today.

  “How did this happen? And what was your professor doing at that club?” Laura shakes her head. “Do I even want to know the answer to that?”

  “He’s Jake’s cousin,” I explain.

  “Jake’s cousin is your professor?” she squeals. “And you kissed him?”

  “Apparently kissing him wasn’t enough. I had to make sure the whole world knew about it, too. This is bad,” I groan, cradling my head in my hands.

  “Sure, it’s embarrassing, but is it really that big a deal?” she asks. “I mean, it’s not like your twelve and he’s taking advantage of you. You’re twenty-seven. He’d be hard pressed to find a student older than you. You’re not exactly young and innocent—”

  “Are you trying to improve the situation, or make it worse?” I fire back.

  “You know what I mean,” she says, rolling her eyes.

  “I do, but it’s not the fact that I kissed him that I’m freaking out about,” I mumble.

  “Then what is it?”

  “It’s that I don’t remember anything after that kiss, Loz. I’m worried about what else I might have done.”

  “Oh…”

  “Right.”

  “Some of the shit you’ve got up to over the years…”

  “And that was sober Becca,” I add. I rub my head and try to think, but everything is just too hazy. “Imagine the trouble drunk Becca would get herself into.”

  “How much did you have to drink, exactly?” Laura asks. She shakes her head. “I can’t even imagine you drunk. I don’t think I can even remember the last time you drank more than a couple of wines. Are you sure your drink wasn’t spiked?”

  “Yes. No. I don’t know.”

  She laughs and shakes her head.

  “Okay, so when’s your next class?”

  “Tomorrow,” I say.

  I feel sick just at the thought of facing him. How am I going to approach this? If I remembered what happened, then I could deal with it rationally, but having no memory at all?

  “Here is what you’re going to do,” Laura says. “You’re going to walk in there and act completely normal. Well, as normal as you usually are,” she jokes. “Walk in there, act like nothing happened and see what he does. I’m sure you’re worrying over nothing,” she adds.

  I nod slowly. She’s right. If I’m confident that nothing happened, then maybe I can bluff my way through this. God knows I’ve bluffed my way through bigger messes than this.

  #

  After Laura leaves, I head to the bathroom to take a shower and find my phone on the floor of the toilet. I pick it up and examine the few missed calls from Mom, and a text from Jake. I click on the text.

  Jake: Can’t call. Lost phone privileges for a week thx to you. How are you feeling?

  I grin and text him back.

  Me: Doesn’t phone privileges include texts?

  I’m surprised when he replies right away. I wonder if the lost privileges are universal or just Becca related?

  Jake: Probably, but she can’t get to me when I’m on the toilet.

  Me: I really didn’t need to know that.

  Jake: Then you shouldn’t have asked. So…big night, huh? Don’t beat yourself up too much. Everyone will forget about it soon.

  I stare at the message.

  Me: What the hell does that mean? The photo?

  I wait a few minutes, and when I don’t get a reply, I try calling. I cringe when Brooke answers.

  “Hey Brooke,” I say, doing my best to sound friendly. “Is Jake there?”

  “Sorry, Rebecca, he’s…indisposed. Maybe try next week?”

  She hangs up on me before I can respond.

  Sighing, I give up and park my ass on the couch. There are many things I should be doing to make the most of my Sunday afternoon, but the most I’m willing to commit to is an afternoon binge watching Game of Thrones on Netflix.

  Somewhere between seasons three and four, I remember I was supposed to phone Mom back. I press dial and put it on speaker, then rest it against my chest.

  “So. Did you see it?” she asks.

  “If you’re referring to the image on Facebook, then yes. I saw it.”

  “I hope you took it down,” she says. “Canoodling with a professor? I’m disappointed in you, Becca.”

  “I’m disappointed in you using the word canoodling,” I mutter.

  “Not amused, Rebecca. I hope that’s all you did. I asked Jake whether you had sex with that man, but he wasn’t much help.”

  “Because he was probably more inebriated than I was,” I say, shocked that she would ask him that. “Look, I’m paying for drinking too much already, okay? I don’t need you making things worse. Was this the only reason I had to call you back, to be harassed?”

  “Treat me with some respect, Rebecca. The last time I checked, you’re still living under my roof,” Mom snaps.

  I close my eyes and exhale slowly. “I’m sorry. I’m just angry at myself. How’s Dad?” I ask.

  “He’s okay,” she says, her voice softer. “They want to keep him in another night, just to keep an eye on him.” She pauses. “Before I forget, are you still reading the poem for the ceremony?” She pauses. “I hope you are.”

  “The ceremony to celebrate your sex achievements, you mean?” I refrain from saying anything more, because I know it will only make things worse. “Yes, so long as I can choose a different poem. I’m sorry, but reading a poem about where Dad plants his seed suddenly has meanings that I never want to think a
bout.”

  “Fine. Pick another poem.” Mom snaps. “But you should know that passage is a classic verse about love and longevity. I’d also appreciate you not announcing to everyone that it’s a ‘sex ceremony,” she adds. “I’m beginning to really regret telling you.”

  “Funny, because I regret hearing it,” I say. I groan, feeling bad about being so negative about everything. “Look, I’m not going to tell anyone,” I assure her. I don’t add that’s because the thought of anyone else knowing about it makes me cringe. “I better go,” I add when Khaleesi appears on the screen. “I’m in the middle of a very important study session.”

  “Really? I thought you found other ways to get passes in your classes—”

  “Goodbye, Mother.”

  #

  The next morning, I stand in front of my closet and frown. I should’ve spent my Sunday doing laundry, instead of watching four seasons of Game of Thrones, but it’s too late to do anything about that now. It did give me some horrifically weird and downright dirty dreams involving Liam and Jon Snow.

  I pull out a shirt, then toss it in the no pile, which is about ten times the size of the maybe pile. The yes pile in non-existent. I laugh and park my ass on the floor. I have no idea what the hell I’m doing. I’m not usually one of those girls who spends hours fussing over her appearance, but the idea of facing Liam today is really making me nervous. I could have made a total dick of myself on Saturday—which isn’t that unlike every other day. I guess the difference here is that I don’t remember it.

  Releasing a sigh, I get to my feet and snatch a purple shirt out of the maybe pile, along with a pair of skinny jeans that I’d already worn twice. I pull the jeans up over my curves and throw on the shirt, then study my reflection in the mirror. I could pretend to be sick and not go in at all.

  No, that won’t work. I have a test in the afternoon.

  Besides, skipping his class won’t solve anything, it’s just going to delay the inevitable.

  I scoop my hair up into a messy bun and secure it with some clips, then I put on some mascara and lip gloss. I guess I don’t look too bad.

  #

  Walk through those doors, make eye contact with him and sit down.

  That’s all I have to do. I nod, determined that I’ve got this. If I act like I’m in control, then I am in control. Taking a deep breath, I clench my hands into fists and then relax them.