What Are Friends For?: A Friends to Lovers Romance

by Sarah Sutton

  I pulled away, disentangling his lips from mine with a wet smack. My head felt clear, not clouded and foggy as it had been the first time with Elijah, and my heart beat steadily. No matter what I’d been trying to convince myself regarding Jeremy, there was nothing between us that I could coax out. I couldn’t force what we didn’t have.

  “Jeremy,” I whispered, closing my eyes to avoid seeing the expression on his face.

  “You don’t have to say it. Your face says it all.” I heard him sigh across from me, and then readjust in his seat. “So Elijah was right. You don’t like me.”

  Now I blinked my eyes open, surprised at what emotion his face belied. It wasn’t pain or sadness, but something akin to confusion, like my response was totally unfamiliar to him. “I do like you, Jeremy. Or…I did. I don’t know.”

  “You flirted with me at the party,” he said almost accusingly, frowning at the snow on the shoulder of the road. “Even before the party. What happened between then and now? Is this because of Elijah?”

  In an instant, I couldn’t breathe. “What?”

  “Did he say something that changed your mind? I don’t understand, Remi.”

  “It wasn’t anything Elijah said. I’m sorry,” I said again, resisting the urge to wipe my lips. “I just—”

  “Don’t like me like that,” he finished, sitting back into his seat. “Figures.”

  We sat in silence for a moment, and I tried so hard not to feel irritated. This was all my fault. I was messing up literally everything in my life. What was going on?

  “I’m sorry,” I repeated. “You can just take me home.”

  “All right,” he said on a sigh, putting his car back into drive. “It’s fine, Remi. You can’t help what you feel. Or don’t feel, apparently.”

  I stared out the window, hating the icky feeling in my stomach, the icky feeling on my lips. Elijah’s kiss was no comparison; if I thought about it hard enough, I could almost still taste it.

  I had opened my mouth to respond when the sound of snow spinning cut me off, and then the back end of Jeremy’s car fishtailed as he tried to veer back onto the road. He’d pulled too close to the edge of the ditch, and with all the snow shoveled to shoulder, it sucked the rear end of his car in.

  My forehead struck the window sharply as the car rocked off the side of the road, the windshield full of white.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The ditch wasn’t big, maybe three feet lower than the road, but deep enough that Jeremy couldn’t reverse out of it. He said something—maybe he swore, or maybe he was talking to me—as I tried to get my bearings, my vision spotty. The spicy scent of my perfume didn’t help orient me, seeming to scratch at my nose.

  Thankfully, he hadn’t crashed hard enough to deploy the airbags. I could hear him say something like “ice patch” and “snowdrift,” and I pressed my fingers into my eyes, surprised by the wave of nausea that cramped my stomach.

  “Can you call him?” Jeremy was saying, but his voice sounded far away.

  I leaned my head back against the seat, letting out a slow breath. “Call who?”

  “Elijah. He’s got a truck. He can pull us out and I won’t have to call my dad. Ugh, he’s going to kill me. It’ll be okay, baby, it’ll be okay.” Jeremy caressed his hand down the edge of the dashboard, voice pitching several notes as he spoke to his car. Then he glanced at me. “Can you call him, Remi?”

  I blinked at him, trying to remember why I felt inclined to say no. “I—I don’t have my cell.”

  “I think I’ve got his number,” he said after pulling out his own phone, scrolling through the contacts and clicking on one.

  I closed my eyes, feeling worse at the thought of him talking to Elijah. Would Elijah even pick up? I hadn’t spoken to him at all at school today, and I would be surprised if—“Elijah, hey! My man.”

  I kept my head against the seat, trying not to listen closely to their conversation, trying not to hang on every word. “Yeah, I know it’s Friday night. Sorry to interrupt couple time. Yeah, I get it. It’s just…I hit a patch of ice and slid off the road, and I was wondering if you would come pull me out.” There was a pause, and Jeremy glanced over at me. “Well, I’m on—what road are we on?”

  “Duntley Highway.”

  “Remi says we’re on Duntley. I was taking her to her dad’s house.” A loud static sound came from his cell phone. “Of course she’s fine. And so am I, thanks for asking. It was more of a dip than a ditch. Okay. Yeah, okay. Bye.”

  “Is he coming?” I asked, wiggling my legs from where they were squished between my bags.

  Jeremy nodded. “He’s on his way. He was at Savannah’s. Probably have to put their clothes on first.”

  I swallowed hard to force the thought from my mind.

  The car had slipped sideways into the divot, with my side slanting close to the ground. Since we hadn’t crashed that hard, the car still functioned, still pumped out heat, keeping us from shivering. But my teeth were chattering, and I didn’t realize until headlights swept over the snow that it was nerves.

  Jeremy climbed out of the sedan and found his footing in the deep snow, going out to greet Elijah. I could see him in the side mirror, though he looked crooked. Could see when Elijah’s boots touched the ground. Could see him ignore Jeremy completely, stride straight up the side of the car, and—

  The passenger’s door popped open, catching on the bottom of the ground and digging into the snow. Elijah bent down in front of the doorway to look at me, eyes meeting mine. They were lit from somewhere deep inside, the pupils large and swallowing the irises. Something was etched into the lines of his face, into his forehead, around his mouth.

  “Are you okay?” he asked in a low whisper, scanning every inch of my face as to discern the truth himself. He pressed his fingertips to my temple, a gentle kiss of skin against skin. His fingers were cold, and I shivered. “Are you hurt?”

  “I hit my head on the window,” I said, grabbing ahold of his fingers and drawing them away. “But I’m okay.”

  “You hit your head?” Concern crossed his gaze as the wind tugged at his hair. “Remi, you already had a concussion, you—”

  “I’m fine,” I said firmly, breathing slow. “I just want to go home.”

  To go home, to get out of Jeremy’s car, to never have to think about this night again.

  Elijah watched me, held our hands together, as the moment charged even further. I pulled back to look at his fingers, skin tanned, rough from sculpting.

  Suddenly, Elijah wrapped his arms around me, drawing me close, hugging me so tight that I could hardly breathe. I let his scent and body heat wrap around me, envelop me, disorient me. Let it wash away the touch and the smell and the taste of Jeremy. I melted into it. The way everything in me seemed to angle toward him, my heart, my mind. Like I was drawn to him. This was incomparable to the kiss moments ago, and we were only hugging. And this hug—I could practically feel the barrier between us begin to fade away, all the pressure on my chest that had been weighing me down begin to lift. I nearly choked on the feeling, clutching him as if my life depended on it.

  “I almost didn’t pick up Jeremy’s call,” he said as he hugged me, voice low. “I’m so glad I did.”

  “He said you were with Savannah.”

  He drew in a short breath, the hug turning stiff for a moment. “We were just hanging out.”

  A humorless laugh escaped me, swallowed by the fabric of his shirt, because I couldn’t stop myself from being swamped with jealousy. I knew I needed to let go, to pull back. But I loved the feel of his body against mine, his scent mingling with mine, his heat warming me.

  Despite my thoughts and the tightness of my grip, Elijah easily leaned away and I met his gaze. A handful more lashes on the right than on the left. In their depths held relief, warmth, and something else I couldn’t quite figure out. “I owe you an apology.”

  “Yeah, no kidding,” I said. “Your apology better be more detailed than that. Better than takeo
ut Thai. I got detention for it. And grounded.”

  His lips twitched. “I deserve that, and every other scolding you’ve got. But why don’t you yell at me from my truck?”

  “Good idea.”

  Elijah grabbed both my bags, lifting them from the car and looping his arms through the straps. He offered a hand down to me.

  As I got to my feet, my boot slipped on a clump of snow, and I fell against Elijah’s chest. His hand tightened on mine to give me balance. But we were close. So close. Close enough for me to see that freckle on his brow bone, to see the slight curve to his nose. Close enough to stand on my tiptoes and meet his lips with my own.

  Man, I wanted to do nothing more than just that. Miraculously, I held back.

  Elijah jerked his head back as if he could read my mind—and maybe he could. He was my best friend, after all. The one who knew me inside and out. Maybe he knew exactly what I was thinking. But there was something so wide to his eyes, so pale to his cheeks, that I frowned. “What’s wrong?” I asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

  He didn’t answer at first, and the expression on his face didn’t change. It was a look I couldn’t recognize; I’d never seen him look so shocked out of this skin. As if he woke up from a dream, still wondering if he was trapped in its grip. “Nothing,” he whispered eventually, voice hoarse. He shook his head a little, flicking the golden hair out of place from behind his ears. “Nothing.”

  We rounded the back of the car and made it up onto the road, where Jeremy stood huddled in his jacket.

  “Where’s your hookup?” Jeremy asked Elijah from the edge of his truck. “You can pull me out, right?”

  “I would, but Remi said she hit her head,” Elijah said, ghosting his hand over my shoulder. “We really should run her to the ER to make sure she’s okay.”

  “She did? Wait, can’t you pull me out first?”

  I thought about how I hit the window, wondering if it’d been as loud of a sound as it seemed. “Haven’t you heard of second impact syndrome?” Elijah demanded, glancing my way. “Her brain could swell, and she could die. We really should’ve called an ambulance—”

  “No!” Jeremy said quickly, glancing at his car. “No, no ambulance, no police. Jeez, my dad would kill me if he knew I crashed this car.”

  “You’re worried about your car?” The tone of Elijah’s voice lowered, darkened, and he took a step toward Jeremy. “Are you kidding me?”

  “Chill, Eli, she’s fine.”

  “It’s Elijah,” I corrected him for what felt like the billionth time, wondering why it never got through to him. “And he’s right, Elijah, I am fine.”

  But he wasn’t convinced, and the tension in his shoulders didn’t loosen. “I should leave you here. Your car’s running, and you’ve got heat. Since you’re so worried about your car, you should keep it company.”

  I reached out and grabbed one of Elijah’s hands, which was fisted at his side. I pried his fingers apart.

  “It was an accident, Elijah,” Jeremy said. “We parked for a minute, and the car just slid off the road when I tried to go again.”

  “You parked?” Elijah’s expression got murderous as he dropped one of my bags against the cool, hard ground. “What’d you go and park for, Jeremy? What were you expecting to happen?”

  Jeremy’s eyes narrowed. “What does it matter what I expected? Why do you care?”

  Was this seriously happening right now? “Because I’m her best friend, idiot, and she’s not some girl you go off and park with.”

  It was seriously happening right now. Fantastic. “You know, you sound like her dad right now. Or a jealous boyfriend.”

  “Both of you, cut it out,” I told them sternly, jerking Elijah’s hand. “It was just a kiss. Go get the car strap and I’ll put my bags in the back.” With my free hand, I swiped up the duffle from the ground, hauling it over my shoulder. “I’m sorry again, Jeremy.”

  It was a pathetic apology, but he graciously accepted it with silence. At least he didn’t try to jot down my insurance information, make me pay for his dented car.

  Looking at him now, standing off to the side of the road, I wondered what life would’ve been like with him. If I had kissed Jeremy that night in the closet. If it were Jeremy I’d dreamed about, and not Elijah.

  I popped the back door of the truck, shoving my bag in. Elijah’s voice came right above my ear. “You kissed him?”

  My eyes slipped shut for a second, and I braced myself on the edge of the truck, turning to face him. The emotion on his face was limited, the only clear indication of his frustration the spark in his eyes. “Yes, I kissed him,” I said, propping a hand on my hip. “That’s all that happened, though, so chill. You don’t have to intimidate him because you’re my best friend. You can take your big-brother pants off.”

  A muscle twitched in Elijah’s jaw, and I fought the urge to reach out, to trail my fingertips along his skin. I wanted to tease him, say “well, don’t actually take your pants off, of course,” but the words wouldn’t come. Looking at him made me realize what was missing with Jeremy. The sun was missing from the sky earlier, but now it stood before me, with wheat-colored hair, eyes as brown as chocolate, lips as soft as a cloud. Before me, tempting me, something I could never have. And without him, everything would just be cloudy and gray.

  “I did kiss Jeremy,” I said, voice barely audible, but the words wouldn’t stay trapped within me. They were exhaled into the air almost as if of their own accord. “I kissed him, and I…I thought of you. I mean, I thought about how you were right. I—I don’t like him.”

  I would’ve expected Elijah to chuckle, say “I told you so,” but he didn’t. When he spoke, his voice sounded strange. “I’m glad.”

  “Glad?”

  Elijah reached out and smoothed his fingers over my hair, curling several strands behind my ear. I forced myself not to shiver, not from his touch and not from the intensity of his gaze. I wanted him to just tell me what he was thinking, to tell me all his secrets, but he didn’t. His other hand curved behind me, causing my heart to beat faster, his body inching closer and closer. His scent invaded my senses, swirling my mind.

  “You’re too good for him,” Elijah said finally, softly, barely audible. And he leaned one more inch forward, his arm brushing my hip. He was a magnet, pulling me to him. And I held my breath, waiting for—

  Him to grab the tow strap on the seat, dragging it out from behind me, his hand falling from my cheek. “Hop in. We’ll pull him out and then we can go,” he said, before turning away, leaving my furious heart tremoring in protest.

  Later on that night, Dad and I sat in a curtained space at the St. Joseph’s Medical Center, listening to a song attempting to filter its way out of the crappy speakers. The entire place smelled too clean, like bleach and antiseptic, and that alone would’ve given me a headache if I didn’t already have one.

  I’d promised Elijah that as soon as I made it up to Dad’s apartment, I’d tell him about what had happened. Dad had immediately grabbed his keys. This was the last thing I wanted to do right now—honestly, going back to his apartment and just sleeping was so, so tempting. Yeah, making sure my head wasn’t cracked like an egg probably was important, but I just wanted to be by myself.

  I’d seriously better not be concussed again—my annoyance would go through the roof.

  Dad patted my knee. “The results will be back soon. How do you feel?”

  “The headache’s still there,” I told him, trying not to squint against the bright lights. “I’m sorry that I interrupted Harmony’s bedtime routine.”

  “Clarabelle can handle it. This is more important.”

  I closed my eyes and dug my fingers into the hospital bed underneath me, feeling the paper crumple from my touch. “You got out of coddling last weekend, but it looks like you’ll have to coddle me anyway, huh?”

  “Don’t act so sad about it. I make a mean chicken noodle soup. Although, it is your mother’s recipe, so that’s probably ch
eating.”

  Dad wasn’t a prier like Mom. He didn’t ask a thousand questions, didn’t give forehead kisses, didn’t overuse hugs. He enjoyed the quiet and personal space as much as I did, enjoying being left with his thoughts. Although right now it was a little tough for me. Being alone with my raging thoughts almost hurt.

  The curtain slid to the side as the doctor came back with his clipboard, positioned just enough to obscure his nametag. I couldn’t remember his name—something with a K?—and hoped he wouldn’t ask. “Well, Remi, from the tests we’ve run, it doesn’t look like it was a second concussion.”

  “But she’s got a headache,” Dad piped up, pulling on his parental jacket. “Is that normal?”

  “She was in an accident. Even though it was minor, the shock of that event will cause a flood of stress adrenaline, which runs out. Headaches and fatigue are normal. You did good coming here, though. It’s always better to double-check when it comes to head injuries.”

  I felt my shoulders droop a little bit. Not in disappointment, but in annoyance. This had been a waste of time.

  “Anything we can do for her pain?”

  “Acetaminophen should help curb that headache, but no aspirin.” The doctor smiled at me. “And you might want to invest in a helmet.”

  Ha-ha. Doctor No-Name was a part-time comedian.

  Dad signed the discharge papers and wrapped his arm around me as we made our way back to the car, as if afraid to let me walk on my own. He must’ve read the expression on my face. “I’ve learned that you and winter don’t mix well, Remikins.”

  “Yeah, no kidding.” I guess everyone had been right when they called me clumsy.

  “Did you have anything you wanted to do tomorrow? We could go get lunch at that restaurant you like up here. The one with the mind-melting pot pies?”

  The idea alone made my mouth water. “I have a school project I need to work on, but that sounds great.”