Never Just Friends (Spotlight New Adult Book 2)

by Esguerra, Mina V.

  “He’s bad at sex?”

  She laughed. “I have reason to think he’s very good at it.”

  “Look, I was fine with this when it was me. But the next guy might not be so...accommodating. It’s very clear that you want to be with someone else. It does wear on the confidence after a while.”

  Lindsay sighed, long and from the depths of her. “Did it feel like that to you? Because you’re...you’re good. I didn’t wish you were someone else.”

  “Thanks. I guess I knew that, but thanks for saying it.”

  “Does she know about me?”

  He looked down when he smiled. “She does not. I would appreciate if she doesn’t find out how your timelines overlapped.”

  “Of course,” Lindsay said. “I’m happy for you, Victor.”

  Happy for him, but she just lost her main reason for holding out.

  Chapter 8

  This trip to New York was part of a war, a personal one, that he was waging on several fronts. Lindsay’s decision he couldn’t control. He had come on strong with that, and hopefully convinced her, but all he could do on that was wait.

  The other thing could be addressed by reading. So he did.

  He didn’t intend his first day in the city to be spent in a bookstore, and then actually reading for hours at a tea shop. (One of the perks of being in Manhattan: recognized enough to not get kicked out, not enough to be bothered the entire afternoon.) He’d read the latest Caine Foundation paper on forests and ecosystem service payments at the airport; he was catching up on everything else, anything he could get his hands on.

  Maybe the tea shop people thought they were being nice to someone about to take a monster final exam. His new book purchases were piled up like a wall on his small table for one, and when he was done with a particular paperback’s chapter, he would be on his iPad, scanning the next report on PDF. They let him use the bathroom without making him pack up. They refilled his giant porcelain cup too, and put a fresh pat of butter beside his half-eaten scone. That was nice of them.

  He noticed little things like that now. Not that he didn’t appreciate them before, because he did, and was known on set for being the least jackassy about these things. A smile and a thank you, he handed those out like candy. It was easy.

  So, Caine Foundation Annual Report. He pored over the summary, then skipped to their portfolio of projects. Air pollution, fresh water, electric transport. A small reforestation project, at risk of non-renewal. Jake checked the abstract, took note of the project page. There were several grants ending soon, nearly half of those listed on the table.

  He was getting pumped just reading all of this again. Like starting up a conversation with an old friend. He had always been into this, but also felt that he needed to be eased into it. Jake had done unexpectedly well when he was majoring in bio. Some of the professors were excited (that anyone was interested at all in forestry research) and put him in a program that demanded too much. The chance meeting with a casting agent, the two auditions that he went on to avoid classes, and then accepting the offer—moving to Canada even, to avoid submitting a project and taking finals. On his last year.

  That was classic running away.

  He remembered when it dawned on him that he had lost her. But Lindsay never went away. She didn’t pack up and escape in that drastic way that he did. Even when he wasn’t in the same city, she was around. Always. But he had gone about this Lindsay business all wrong, and it took too long for him to figure it out.

  At first, because he was an idiot, he thought that buying her a drink and bragging to her that he was STD-free was going to be a turn-on for her. Surely if she had been repulsed by what he said she would have walked out of there, right? But what happened was worse: she stayed.

  Stayed, but kept him at a distance.

  He didn’t realize it though, that first time they hung out at Drake’s, that month when they first met. He thought he was on track. They had a great morning run the following day. He took her on his regular route around the neighborhood, twice. Lindsay didn’t run often, but she was in great shape. (He could have guessed from how her legs looked in those pants.)

  “You okay?” he said, when they got back to the front of her house.

  “Yes, of course. Did you think I was going to collapse?” she snarked back, out of breath, the slight layer of sweat on her face actually making her skin glow.

  She was beautiful. It was like he had seen what she could look like, after making love to her.

  Making love. He inwardly laughed at his own brain. He thought that same sentence, swapping the term with “boning,” “screwing,” “fucking” and they all seemed inappropriate.

  Because they were friends? You don’t think about boning friends.

  “You’ve passed my test, is all,” he said. “Maybe you can be my Amazing Race partner. Do you know the show?”

  She nodded enthusiastically. “Do you drive stick?”

  “Yes. Can you solve puzzles?”

  “I don’t do heights though, or tattoos.”

  “We can work with that.”

  That thing went on for a few weeks, and it was fun, never mind that they were never ever going to really be on the show anyway. (The heights aversion would have crippled them as a team, to be honest.)

  Then he asked her out to a movie, one that featured zombies, and they talked all night on her front porch about how to fortify their neighborhood against the apocalypse.

  “I’ll need to teach you to drive stick,” Jake found himself saying. He never spoke to a girl that way, never made future plans like that. The hypothetical situation, and the absurdity of it, made it safe somehow. It was probably his first taste of acting, fooling himself.

  “But you know how,” she said. “Won’t our survival be improved if we split tasks efficiently?”

  “What if I’m being chased and you have to get the car and swing by to get me?”

  She smiled at him then. “It depends. What are you holding?”

  “Do I have to be holding anything? You’re just going to save me, Lindsay.”

  She shook her head. “I know why I’ll learn to drive stick. Because I might have to take the car, Jake. If you’re infected, you get left behind. Like everyone else.”

  ***

  She sent him a message after eight: Where are you?

  Jake: Downtown. Cutest hipster tea shop in the world. You?

  Lindsay: When are you going back to your hotel?

  He paused. Now, if you’re meeting me there.

  Lindsay: Come on over then. Don’t get too excited.

  The speed with which he packed up all his new books and settled his bill with the nice young woman might be misconstrued as excitement.

  Because this was early. Dates didn’t start yet at this time, even on work nights. She had what looked like just enough time to meet Victor, dump him, and walk several blocks over to Waldorf Astoria.

  He had been taken aback that she was still seeing the guy. Jake was aware that it might have become more than that, but dismissed the possibility of him being an actual rival, an equal. Except for that one time when she first told him about Victor, she never mentioned him at all. He brought it up a few times, sneaking it into small talk about the weather and how she was, and she’d always said “fine.” Not exactly indicative of a passionate, life-changing affair.

  Still, two years though. Sex without feelings. Lindsay had a fuck buddy, for fuck’s sake. For a second, jealous rage burned through him. It could have been him, all this time, giving her what she wanted. How often did she want it? Did Lindsay call Victor, or did he call her? Or was it a regular thing, like Fuck Buddy Fridays? Shit.

  But Jake didn’t want just that, did he?

  Also, what were you planning to do? Take weekend trips to NY? Fly her over whenever you got horny? Stick to the plan, Jacob.

  He managed to get a cab to take him midtown, but traffic was building up. So he sat there stewing; jealous, hopeful, then jealous again.


  Jake had never met Victor, even though he was in New York when he first found out about him. Filming on the first season of Rage Eternal had just ended, in August. Lindsay had moved to New York a few months earlier, and he decided to fly over to see her.

  “You don’t have to,” she had said then, graciously, probably not remembering that money was no longer a problem for him, and he had travel perks anyway. “You’re still spending Christmas over at Cordelia’s right?”

  “But it’s August and I’m all clear,” he said. He took that STD test twice a year, April and August, and got into the habit of celebrating his results with Lindsay. “I need to celebrate. Take me where we can happy hour.”

  “You better be all clear,” was her response. “Or you should deeply question your choice of girlfriend.”

  It was his first time in New York City then, so there was a lot to do. She took him to the Met and Central Park. He explored much of the rest on foot. They had their semi-annual All-Clear Happy Hour (August edition) at a wine bar on the roof of a building along Fifth Avenue. She told him about Victor. By then she knew that he had been exclusively seeing his co-star, Jessica.

  It was coming back to him, how that conversation took his insides, shook them, and left them in the wrong places. He was, instantly, envious of this guy, and disappointed for himself. The five months of constantly acting for his job helped; he was certain that none of it showed in his face, instead it hopefully conveyed his jolly congratulations. There was also, immediately after the jealousy, intense relief. He only got to tell Lindsay that Jessica was his girlfriend on the phone (and he did it as soon as he realized that some website might announce it first). In the back of his mind he had been worried that he was the reason she hadn’t been in a relationship the entire time they were friends, so far. She denied it, but he didn’t want to feel that he had been stringing her along.

  And he was in love with Jessica, back then. He thought so.

  Don’t rewrite your own history, Jacob.

  Chapter 9

  She’d been in his room with him before. This wasn’t the first time. But circumstances were different, and he had regressed back to high school, or earlier, when his need showed up as a tremor in his limbs. Embarrassing then. Now? Jake wanted her to know this.

  Lindsay had been waiting nearly an hour at the lobby, and when he showed up, apologetic, hungry, she simply helped him with half the books he was carrying and said they should go back to his room.

  “They got you the executive suite?” she observed.

  “Yeah,” Jake said, dropping his things on one of the red seats meant for guests. His hotel room had its own area for entertaining, but he didn’t want them to stay in that part of the suite for long. “How was work today?”

  Lindsay shot him a look. Her hands went to her hips, and her nose scrunched up in that way she did when she was irritated. “All about you. You agreed to sit in on our donor meetings?”

  “It was part of the contract.”

  “It didn’t have to be. You could have gotten away with smiling and waving. Now you have to learn all of this and expose yourself to questions from people who are very particular about how their money is spent.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Jake.” She paced around the room and ended up underneath the door frame that led to the bed. He had left the double doors open. Lindsay paused and turned around. “You took a job in Canada so you can avoid finals.”

  “Excuse me. I started a career. That’s been successful so far.”

  She tipped her shoulder and was leaning on the door frame now, arms folded. “You’re sure you want to do this?”

  “Yes. The answer to everything is yes.”

  The sarcasm that was making her smile stiff let up a bit. “Yes to what?”

  “Yes,” Jake said, “yes, I’m willing to risk humiliating myself and work as hard as you want me to, so I don’t embarrass you and your colleagues.” He took a step toward her. “Yes I know I don’t have the best track record for staying long enough to see something all the way through. I’m working on it.” The next step brought him a breath away from her. “Yes I’m sure I am in love with you and you have no idea what I was bargaining with the universe on the cab ride over, hoping you were here to tell me that you’re no longer seeing Victor.”

  Lindsay arms unfolded, gently. “I’m no longer seeing Victor.”

  He pumped his fist at the sky. “The universe loves me. Is it because of me?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “What did you ask the universe?”

  “That you’ll say yes to me now, because you’ve always loved me, and this is the best time for both of us, because we’re not young and stupid. Or that would be me, not being as young or stupid. So what’s the verdict?”

  “You’re not worried?”

  “About what?”

  Her hand reached out and touched his shirt, then pressed on, curving around his rib cage. It made him draw a jagged breath, and then a brief moment of pain as he got even harder.

  “You and me together, it could be the worst thing.”

  “You don’t think I can please you?”

  Her lip turned up into a smirk. “I know what pleases me, so I can give you some tips. It’s not that. It’s everything else.”

  He knew this; he thought about it constantly. “Lindsay. You know we can’t keep doing this thing. Sleeping with other people and then retreating to each other, three times a year. I live for April, August, and Christmas, do you know that?”

  She licked her lips. “You missed last August, Christmas, and April, and I didn’t get an explanation.”

  “This is your explanation. I can make a mistake, can’t I? And I’m here now making up for it. I lived for those times with you, even when I was with other people.”

  “I understand.” She sank a bit, when she sighed, and inched closer to him. He hoped he was reading her right.

  “You know we can’t be with other people and save each other during the apocalypse, Lindsay. There won’t be enough room in the bunker.”

  She laughed softly. “Where is that bunker going to be again? New York or Vancouver?”

  He’d brought her back to that zone, but he didn’t want to leave himself there. “So what do you say, Lindsay?”

  “It’s just three weeks, right?”

  “You can think of it as a temporary thing all you want, but I’m in this for as long as you’ll have me.”

  He didn’t know if that would work. It was different, with Lindsay, because he’d let her know too much about how his personal life worked. She knew when he was with somebody, could stack them up together, find patterns, preferences, compare histories. It was unnerving to try and make himself be seen as one way by someone who had seen not just who he was, but every kind of person he was, with every other person.

  She tugged at his waist and pulled him toward her, and he claimed her mouth before she thought of more reasons to doubt him.

  Chapter 10

  So maybe there’s something to this, not casual sex.

  Or he’s that great of an actor.

  He couldn’t have been acting though. She’d seen him unguarded. It felt like one of those times. Lindsay didn’t think of him as an actor anyway, never mind if the rest of the world did.

  She had never seen his show. Too bad, because the lushly photographed series about two mysterious immortals, solving crime in different time periods per ten-episode season, was something she would have liked to watch. But between wrapping season one and its airing, she found out that he had started exclusively seeing his co-star Jessica Fontana. Beautiful, thin, flawless Jessica Fontana. When the show premiered, she kept finding reasons not to watch it, and then never did. It was on cable, and they weren’t shy about nudity. He had more than one love scene with his co-star, and she didn’t feel like seeing him in that context, for the first time, with someone else.

  Mine, she thought, as she kissed him. It was irrational. She was having feelings about this, w
hen she had told herself that she didn’t need to. My Jake.

  It was his fault; he was so damn into it. He groaned into her mouth like he was restraining himself, when he was already robbing her breath and pushing her into the wall. She felt him hard against her belly, and she gave him an appreciative stroke.

  “We need to be on the bed,” he said. It sounded like he was begging.

  She reached up to undo the buttons on the back of her dress; it would be easier to do standing up. Shrugging her shoulders one way and then the other made the dress fall. After kicking her pumps off, all that was left was her, and the red lacy bra and panties that she’d decided to wear, thinking she’d be in bed with someone else.

  Lindsay hoped that wouldn’t bother him.

  It looked like it did for a moment, when he caught her eye, and then he went for the clasp to get the thing off her as soon as possible.

  “Beautiful,” he whispered into her neck, her breasts in his hands already. For what seemed like a long time he stood like that, holding her there, his breath a caress against her shoulders. She thought he’d be...rougher. She didn’t know why. This reverence was disorienting.

  She went for the buttons on his shirt. It smelled floral and fruity, also spicy like cinnamon, from sitting for hours in the cutest hipster tea shop in the world. She’d been checking out the spines of the books she’d helped him carry; he’d been reading. Everything.

  Something was up with him. Would he eventually tell her what?

  Then his shirt was off, and he was beautifully sculpted muscle. His waist was trim, his stomach harder than it looked when they were jogging together around the neighborhood. She knew that when his season started filming, in April every year, the first month was all working out. Physical training. Stunt preparations.

  “Does it hurt?” she asked, her hand on his shoulder.

  “Not anymore,” he said, and she didn’t understand that. She meant the working out, pushing his body so much to make it marble-like perfection. Maybe she should have said something clear, instead of blurt out half a thought. But then he had lifted her up, brought her down to the soft, cool bed, and pulled her panties by the waistband down her legs.