by Snow, Jenika
Fluff
Jenika Snow
Contents
Synopsis
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Epilogue One
Epilogue Two
Epilogue Three
About the Author
We’d known each other all our lives.
And I loved her that whole time.
Daphne.
She was all curves wrapped in a bubbly personality that no other woman could match.
And I’d saved myself for her… my first kiss, my first everything.
But I waited to make her mine for far too long.
When a job had me leaving her, I knew I’d come back. There’s no way I was letting her get away.
The years passed, but my love for her only grew. And when I’m finally back home, back to her, I knew I was done waiting, done pretending boundaries couldn’t crossed in our friendship.
But was it too late?
I didn’t care if it was, because the truth was, I wouldn’t stop trying to make Daphne mine. All I had to have was the courage to tell her the truth about how she made me feel.
Everything else, anything else that got in the way, was just fluff.
FLUFF
By Jenika Snow
www.JenikaSnow.com
[email protected]
Copyright © March 2020 by Jenika Snow
First E-book Publication: March 2020
Photographer: Regina Wamba
Cover model: Elisabeth Abby & Steven Christiansen
Photo provided by: Regina Wamba
Cover Designer: Regina Wamba
Editor: Kayla Robichaux
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: The unauthorized reproduction, transmission, or distribution of any part of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
This literary work is fiction. Any name, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental. Please respect the author and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials that would violate the author’s rights.
Chapter One
Daphne
“You could always enter one of those wet T-shirt contests.”
I looked over at Patricia with wide eyes, knowing shock was on my face. “Are you fucking serious? A wet T-shirt contest?” I snorted after I spoke, the sarcasm in my voice thick. Her lips twitched in amusement.
Although I knew she’d been joking, for a split second, right before common sense kicked in, I thought maybe she had been serious.
“Can you imagine me up on stage or in one of those little white tank tops, my tits flopping all over the place as they sprayed me with a hose?” I chuckled and shook my head, picturing that very thing. It wouldn’t be sexy, because I could picture my hands in front of me as I tried to stop the spray from the hose, my eyes squeezed shut tightly, my face pinched in the way people’s faces got. “No, thank you.” I brought a glass of champagne to my mouth and took a long drink. God, I loved the bubbles in champagne. They made me feel all tingly.
“Fair enough. But girl, if you entered a wet T-shirt contest, you’d win. Hands down. Your chest is like… perfect.” She scoffed. “Ugh, I hate you sometimes.”
I rolled my eyes at Patricia’s comment but couldn’t help but smile. I’d known Patricia since college. She’d been a sociology major in a study group with me. Although our majors were so different, mine being culinary, we’d had a few of the same prerequisites.
“Maybe I should get breast implants?” She glanced down at her chest and got a serious expression in her face.
“You’re beautiful just the way you are.”
She groaned and brought her champagne glass to her mouth. “I wish I had your self-confidence.”
I smiled. I was proud of my self-confidence and body positivity. For far too long, I let other people dictate how I felt, how I perceived myself. I was the “chubby little girl down the street” when I was younger. That had been the first time I noticed others perceived me as different. In high school, I was always the friend with the pretty face who just needed to lose some weight. And in college, I had a little bit more freedom, so to speak. People were a little bit more grown up, adult thinking. They didn’t blatantly gawk or stare. They were quiet about their comments.
I’d used all of those life experiences to realize that it didn’t matter what anyone else thought. I was who I was, and I loved myself for it. Those thoughts led me to think about Alfie. My best friend since I was five years old. He never looked at me like I was something less, like I someone who needed to change. And even though time and distance separated us here and there throughout the years, with us going to different colleges, him working out of state, and just life in general pulling us in different directions, he always had my back. We always stayed close.
I considered him my soul mate.
But he’d moved back to Rosendale for good just last month. And despite all these years, the ups and downs we each faced in our lives, we were just as close as we ever were.
As Patricia started speaking with someone, a random guy passing by to compliment her on the color of her blouse, which was just a lame way of hitting on her, I searched the room for Alfie. I saw him over in the corner speaking with one of my father’s friends. The event we were at was supposed to be “intimate,” but these types of events were never just intimate. There were friends of friends here, handfuls of people scattered throughout the room. And a quiet, small birthday party ended up being a soirée that was exhausting.
I stared at Alfie, feeling my heart race a little bit. God, would I ever have the courage to tell him how I felt? No, probably not. I’d kept my feelings for him a secret for so long they were just part of me now, something I lived with. It was something I dealt with. The very real fear of admitting how I felt—that my feelings for him had grown from friendship, to affection and a crush, to being in love—scared me. I didn’t want to lose him, didn’t want to make things awkward. And the fact that he never said anything to me, that he had feelings too, that he shared any kind of intimate feelings toward me, had me keeping my mouth shut for so long.
Too long.
But it was safer that way. For me. For us.
He glanced over at me as if he could feel my gaze on him. His short, dirty-blond hair was swept to the side, and I could make out the muscles in his chest and arms even through his button-down shirt and blazer.
My body heated.
I smiled, hoping he couldn’t see how I was no doubt blushing, that the distance that separated us was enough to not embarrass me even more.
He had that boy-next-door charm to him, those good looks that made all the girls notice him. And I’d never seen him with a girlfriend, no significant others, not even so much as him telling me he had a crush on anyone. And we talked about everything. But never that. And my heart thanked him silently.
“Why don’t you just ask your parents for help?”
I turned my attention back to Patricia and cleared my throat, shaking my head in the process. “I’m not even going to go there. You know I don’t like asking other people for help, especially when it includes so much money.” I finished off my champagne and set it on the tray of a passing waiter. He stopped so I could take a full one, and I gave him a grateful smile.
&
nbsp; Although I had no doubt my parents would loan me the money, I needed to create my own company. I wanted a little coffee and pastry shop that also doubled as a library. I wanted to do this on my own. I wanted to be successful in my own right, building something up from the ground, working hard and not taking any handouts.
Although I was sure there were concepts of what I wanted to do in my shop around the world, in our little town, there was nothing close to it. What we had was the country club and generations of old money.
I loved reading, had been an avid bookworm my entire life. At one point, I wanted to be a librarian just so I could be surrounded by books, but as I got older, I wanted to own my own business, be able to set up little hidden nooks, hide away from everyone with a cup of coffee, a fresh baked pastry, and a thick book.
God, that sounded glorious, and I wanted to make that my reality. Surely there were others who were just like me? At least I hoped, so my dream didn’t go down the drain.
But until I found the means to make that my reality, it looked like working my nine-to-five as a receptionist would have to do.
I looked back at Alfie and felt my heart skip a beat as I saw he stared at me. He smiled, just the corner of his mouth lifting up, and I felt my entire body heat. It was as if him moving back to town accelerated my feelings, bringing them right back to the surface, so there was no trying to deny them. They refused to be buried any longer, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep them a secret for long.
But God… the fear of losing him for my own selfish needs scared the hell out of me. But we only lived once, right? If I didn’t tell him how I felt, I’d never know if things could progress.
That was the only thing that mattered.
Chapter Two
Alfie
Maybe one day I’d be able to tell Daphne how I felt, that for the better part of my life, since I’d known her, since I realized what it was to care about somebody, I’d been in love with her.
Unconditionally.
Irrevocably.
Consumingly.
It had happened in this one moment, years ago, as I’d stared at her right before I had to leave town, that reality set in. I understood that no one would compare to her. No one. Ever. But to actually have the balls to tell Daphne I loved her, that she was my future? I bad been too much of a coward. And today was not that day to grow a set of balls.
Frank was going on about mergers and acquisitions at his company, but my mind was elsewhere. My thoughts were on Daphne. Always on her.
I still remembered the day I looked at her and knew I loved her, that the feelings I had for her this whole time were something so much more. It was after I’d gotten sent to another state for my job, and although it was temporary, in that moment, it felt like a lifetime.
And it had been so painful to leave her. It had been like someone ripped out my heart and held it in their hand, showing me what I didn’t have any more as they squeezed it until there was nothing left.
I hadn’t wanted to leave her, hadn’t wanted to do anything but pull her in close and tell her what she meant to me. And as I looked at her standing in front of me, as the words played in my head, pounded through my heart, I wanted nothing more than to tell her right then and there what she meant to me.
But it didn’t seem right telling her something so deep and profound and then leaving, so I kept it close to me, never uttering those words, keeping that secret deep within me until the right moment. And there would be a right moment. Because even if I hadn’t realized what I felt for her had morphed into friendship, then attraction, and now bone deep love, I’d always seen Daphne as mine, even if she didn’t know that.
I watched her move around the room, speak with others, bringing smiles to their faces.
Her personality was addictive. Her smile contagious. She was so beautiful. Her sandy blonde hair was in loose waves around her shoulders. My fingers itched to touch them, to bring them to my nose and smell those strands. I bet they were sweet, just like she was.
She wore this baby-pink-colored skirt, the material form-fitted to her curves. Her cardigan showed off her full chest, the little buttons on the front these tiny faux pearls.
God, her body was incredible, curvy, womanly, one I’d envisioned spread out on my bed far too many times to be appropriate. I tried to adjust my shirt so it covered my dick, my cock starting to harden.
I downed the rest of my champagne, hoping the alcohol would dull my arousal. But I knew there was no cure for what I felt for Daphne.
There never had been.
There never would be.
Chapter Three
Daphne
I was daydreaming, daydreaming about all the things I wanted, all the things I could possibly have if I had a little bit of courage.
I chewed on the end of my pen as I stared out the window at work, watching as a few cars moved back and forth down Main Street. There was a hardware store across the street, my heart kicking up a little bit when I saw Alfie’s truck pull up to the curb.
I sat up a little bit straighter, my entire body instantly heating. I felt like a little schoolgirl, my crush within my reach but forever out of bounds.
Not a crush.
This was real, and I was hopelessly in love.
“You look like you’re dying of thirst and he’s the only glass of ice-cold water around.”
I snapped my gaze over to Patricia and cleared my throat, looking down at my desk and pretending like I hadn’t been caught staring at Alfie. I felt my cheeks heat uncomfortably.
I had no doubt my face was red as hell. The fact that she’d seen me ogling Alfie didn’t embarrass me so much as the fact that she’d read me so easily. How many times had she seen me doing this same thing?
If she had noticed how much I wanted him, I wondered if Alfie could tell as well.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I mumbled out quickly and started working on invoices.
She chuckled softly, and I looked up to see her lift a perfectly manicured brow. “Really? How long have I been working with you?”
I shrugged and mumbled, “A couple years.”
She wore a little smirk on her face. “And in those years, how many times have you talked about Sir Hots A Lot?”
It was my turn to lift a brow. “Sir Hots A Lot?”
Patricia shrugged but wore a grin. “That’s what I dubbed him a while back.” She held up her arms, palms toward me as if she were in surrender. “But don’t worry, I have my hands full with Trevor.” She got this dreamy look in her eyes, and her cheeks turned pink. I sure as hell didn’t want to know what she was thinking about. “And believe me, he’s all man.” She wagged her brows at me and then exhaled contently. “But how long are you going to stare at him from afar?”
I glanced out the window, but I didn’t see Alfie, presumably because he went inside. “I don’t,” I lied.
“You’re a horrible liar.”
I know.
I shrugged but felt my heart race, knowing she was right. I still stared out the window at Main Street. “Probably for the rest of my life,” I muttered softly, answering her question I tried to lie about.
She scoffed and I looked over at her. “What do you have to lose?”
I thought about her question.
A lot.
Everything.
“How about my friendship for starters?” She didn’t say anything but was the one to glance out the window now.
“I can’t speak for anyone but myself, but if something was eating me alive, if the only way to make myself feel better was to be honest, even if that truth might sever what I had, I’d do it.” She looked back at me and there was a sincere, genuine expression on her face. “I would do it, because slowly it would wither me away, Daphne. Slowly, it’ll ruin what you have.” She gave me a sad smile. “Those feelings will get in the way, wedge between the two of you until it’s awkward and uncomfortable.”
I stared at her, hearing this thickness in her voice; at least
she knew what she was talking about. I felt that. She’d experienced it. I cleared my throat and tried to act like I had my shit together. The truth was, it was getting a lot harder to be around Alfie with how I felt. It was getting so hard that I was finding myself becoming awkward in his presence, stuttering over my words, being clumsy in front of him, nervous. I wasn’t acting like myself. I was letting my emotions, how I felt for him, get in the way of our friendship. And I knew ultimately it would be the downfall of what we had built throughout our lives.
I stared out the window again and saw Alfie stepping out of the hardware store. He had a couple plastic bags in each hand, rounded the back of the pick-up, and put them in the bed before climbing in the driver seat. For a moment, he just sat there, his windows rolled up, far too tinted for me to see him.
“Trust me, Daphne,” Patricia said softly, and I swallowed roughly.
I knew she was right. And so I stood, smoothed my hands down my skirt, and looked at her. “I’ll be right back.”
She grinned, shooing me away with her hands. I didn’t bother telling her I wasn’t about to go over there now and confess to him I’d been in love with him for years. But having the courage to maybe ask him to dinner was a start.
I walked outside, waiting until a car passed before I made my way across the street. Main Street had gotten so busy over the last couple years. The town was flourishing, with tourists increasing, which also led to traffic.
Before I even made it to Alfie’s truck, he rolled down his window, a strange look on his face. I could see him swallow, his throat working from the act.