Rules of Friendship: Friends-to-Lovers Standalone Romance Novel Page 4

  I brush my teeth in the kitchen sink, hurrying to get ready before Dawson exits the bathroom. I am not dense. I understand guys take care of themselves and often. Girls do it too like I do with BOB. I just never imagined walking in on him or hearing him enjoy it as if I were witnessing a personal show. Every time I think of it, I’ll remember the moans and get heated up all over again.

  I am about to exit the apartment when Dawson rounds the corner with a towel secured around his waist that does nothing but highlight his big bulge below. Don’t look down at the towel, Reese. So I look down, again, of course. Damn my traitorous eyes.

  “All covered up this time,” Dawson says in an arrogant tone, and I immediately glare at him. Mostly because he’d caught me looking, but also because I am not one of his hookups so that tone doesn’t do a thing for me.

  “You could be standing there completely naked, and it would have no effect on me.” Liar. I’m a damn liar. I wave him off as I lift my bag and hook it over my shoulder. Picking up my keys from the high table, I open the door and start to step out when I hear him call out to me. “Is that so?”

  It all happens so fast. I look back, Dawson drops the towel, and my gaze shifts immediately downward to what I now know is a big and beautiful, groomed cock. Instantly, I trip over my own feet and stumble out the door. Thankfully, I catch the weight of my body before face planting into the wall opposite our door.

  “No effect, huh, Reese?” Dawson asks from behind me, and I internally argue with myself over my reaction. “Never had a girl practically fall to the floor before, though I have had them—” I spin around to face him and am thankful he at least takes the time to cover himself back up.

  “I’m not one of your sleazy hookups, Dawson.” I take a step toward him. “So don’t act like I am.”

  Silently, we stare at one another while his words linger in my mind. The words can be misconstrued. Of course, the hopeful side of me wants to think it is because he values me. Because I mean more than the women of his past. But the rational side knows that it is because we’re just friends. We’ll always be just friends.

  I burst through the door, feeling like the weight of the last few weeks is suddenly lifted. I’ve studied for hours upon hours. I’ve freaked myself out more than a dozen times over worry. But now, it is all over. At least until the next exam anyway.

  Kevin lounges on our couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table. “Hey, pretty girl,” he says, looking back at me with a smile. “Been a while since I’ve seen ya.”

  “Hey.” I offer him a wave.

  Kevin is a decent guy, a little too flirty at times, but harmless. He looks back toward the television at whatever sports broadcast that is playing and listens to the highlights of the game. I hear the refrigerator door close and drop my bag near the table to give Dawson the happy news.

  Practically skipping across the dining area with excitement, I round the corner into our small kitchen and come to an abrupt stop. Dawson stands with his back to me, but I can see the girl he is facing. Her hands are around his waist, toying with the end of his shirt. They aren’t doing anything more than staring at one another, but it is obvious they are close enough that either something was about to happen, or I’d just missed the show.

  I start to turn around and rush off toward my room when I see him move. “Reese?” He sounds surprised to see me. “I uh . . .” he stammers, looking back at the girl who is also observing me. Her lips are reddened, swollen and a sure sign that I barely missed the make-out session that took place. My stomach tightens with unease, jealousy actually, and I do my best to hide the way it makes me feel inside.

  I’ve never had a problem seeing him with other girls. Until now.

  “This is Lisa,” Dawson says, and I force a smile.

  “Nice to meet you.” I offer her that greeting, but contemplate lunging for her and dragging her by her hair toward the nearest exit. I can’t help but picture myself tossing her ass over the railing of our balcony or going for the less murderous option and kicking her out our front door.

  “I’ll talk to ya later.” I spin around, taking two steps, only for him to stop me again.

  “How’d the exam go?” I freeze, my back to him. “Did you ace it?”

  “It was good.” I look back and focus on her instead of him. She is pretty, a little too flashy, but still pretty. I have no right to hate her. I don’t even know her, but instantly want her gone. What is my problem? My fantasies are messing with my reality. “We’ll talk about it later.”

  I should have known he wouldn’t listen because he walks toward me and pauses at my side. “She’s just a friend.” It’s not like he needs to explain to me why he has a girl here.

  “I’m just a friend.” I widen my eyes and fake a laugh. Something weird passes between us, an uncomfortable silence. It makes my heart race, and I am not quite sure yet how I feel about the shift.

  When he reaches out and touches my hand, he gives it a gentle squeeze. “You’re not just a friend.” Excitement sparks within me. “You’re my best friend.” And the excitement sizzles. “I wanna know about your test.”

  “It was good. I passed.” I need the shelter of my room at this moment. I don’t know how to handle the things running around in my mind, or the tightening in my chest.

  He tilts his head just slightly as he looks over my face with careful analyzation. “Celebrate tonight?” I nod. Then Dawson leans in closer like he is going to kiss my forehead just as he has done so many times before. But before his lips can touch me, I move further away. Again, a look of confusion covers his face; he seems hurt maybe.

  “You just had your mouth on he.” I instantly regret my response. “I don’t know where her lips have been.” I arch a brow, attempting to recover the moment and ease the tension. “Remember that fungus you got down below?” He grins, shaking his head when I point toward his crotch. “I think it’s spreading.”

  “Real funny, smartass.” Then before I have a chance to prepare, he grabs my head and plants a wet sloppy kiss on my forehead. In turn, I shiver involuntarily in disgust. I can tell that he thinks I faked my reaction. Dawson has no clue that my shiver was not disgust but desire. I’m so screwed.

  Dawson

  Everything is messed up, at least it is for me. For the last few days, ever since Lisa was over, I’ve felt off. Reese and I are ‘off.’ Things seem odd between us. She tries to pull off the ‘everything is the same’ act, but I can feel the difference. She’s been spending more time in her bedroom and less time lounging around in the living room or even the reading room I made for her after we moved in. She loves that room. It is more of an extension off of our living room. It has the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the pool that is in the center of our apartment complex. It is entirely too small to be an actual bedroom, which is why I lined the back wall with shelves and bought the two oversized lounging chairs with the spider lamp. It is just enough for the reading room space, making it feel cozy, or so she said when I first showed it to her.

  Every night when I come home, I’ve grown accustomed to seeing her wandering around, acting natural and unfazed. But now she is distant, nervous maybe. It is fucking with my head. I am confused beyond clarity because the most prominent part of me wants to tell her that I want her and that I am tired of pretending I didn’t. I want to be more than friends. Then another part of me thinks taking our friendship to the next level it would only make things worse.

  “We can . . .” I look up over the back of the couch at the sound of her voice as she walks through the dining room toward our kitchen. She holds her phone to her ear, completely ignoring me. “Or we can go to the new club that just opened.”

  Now she has my full attention.

  “Did he say he wants to meet me?” My stomach lurches, and I lean in a little closer, wanting to hear every word. “Twenty-seven,” another pause, “I know how old I am, Heather, but he’s older. The idea that he’s already gone through a divorce doesn’t make me want to rush off and
fall in love with him.”

  What the fuck?

  “You are so crass,” Reese adds, sounding less than amused. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. He’s looking for an easy lay, and I’m not that girl.”

  Damn fucking straight she wasn’t, isn’t and wouldn’t be if I had anything to say about it.

  “That’s what you keep telling me,” she adds as I try to control my rapid heartbeat because the blood rushing to my head is making it difficult to concentrate, much less hear. “But I’m not sure I can be the kind of girl that sleeps around and feels okay with it. I don’t think I’m programmed that way.”

  Relief hits me, but the desperate need to have a little talk with Heather about pushing Reese is pounding in my mind.

  “I’d rather just stick to dinner and drinks.” Reese exits the kitchen and places a small dish on the table before walking back out of sight. “If I’m being forced to go on a blind date, it’s not gonna be in some dark club with lots of alcohol. If it’s just you and me, fine, but if he’s coming, then I’m taking the safe route. And I’m meeting you all there so I have my car if the need to escape should arise.”

  When she comes back into the dining room, she places a large glass of chocolate milk on the table, and I slouch down just enough to hide behind the back cushion of the couch. Of course, she is wearing a pair of those short booty shorts, and sitting in the chair with one leg tucked up. Oh, and from my current position, her parted legs are like a target for my eyes. A bullseye.

  “Seven works better for me because I still need a shower and I have no idea what to wear.” Nervous energy rushes through me like a tidal wave. Without thinking, I get up from the couch and round the end. She looks up abruptly, and her eyes widen in surprise. “Okay,” Reese says, but her eyes are now on me as I walk toward the table. “I’ll be there by seven.” I grab the chair next to her and pull it out, sitting down.

  When she lowers her phone to the table, I snatch the container of cookies, and she reaches out to try to stop me, missing entirely. “Those are mine,” she argues, eyes narrowing at me as I take her milk too. “Seriously?”

  I nod, lifting the chocolate cookie to my mouth as I take a huge bite. It doesn’t go unnoticed the way her eyes shift toward my mouth and then her lips slightly part. So just for my ego after the conversation I heard, I lick my lips and watch as she licks her own in response. That’s fucking hot.

  With a huff, she stands up and walks back into the kitchen. I, of course, watch her ass sashay in front of me, feeling like I’ve won. It isn’t just in my head; I know that now. Things are different, and not just for me but her too.

  When she comes back to the table, she has another cup of milk that she holds firmly in her hand. “Give me a cookie.” She holds out her hand. “Stop being so stingy, Dawson.”

  “But I love your cookies, Reese.” Yes, I’m a pervert, thinking about an entirely different kind of sweetness in my mind. “So sweet and soft,” I add, at least I imagine her taste to be.

  I wonder for a minute if she has caught on. If she does, she doesn’t falter.

  “That’s fine, but like I said, you could share.”

  “I don’t like to share,” I state. “I’m very stingy.”

  I take another bite of the cookie, still holding onto the container, refusing to give in. I don’t know why I have the urge to piss Reese off. It is hypocritical, really, that I am pissed about her going out, but I brought a girl back here only a few days ago. Granted Lisa and I did nothing but share a few heated kisses, but she was still in the apartment Reese and I share.

  “Are we still talking about cookies, Dawson?”

  Reese surprises me with her question, and I’m unsure how to respond. The fear of changing things between us even more lingers in my mind. The idea that my choices, whether to act on impulse and building desire for Reese or take the easy road and do nothing are deciding factors that could both be terrifying in different ways.

  “I am.” I chicken out completely. “What are you talking about?”

  “The fact that you’re a brat and won’t give me back my sugary goodness.”

  Three hours. That’s how long I sit in the living room, my mind fucking with my heart and my body ready to pounce on Reese, my roommate and best friend. I hear her shower and close my eyes, imagining her washing her body, the water cascading over her like a beautiful statue. I then picture her stepping out, drying off each arm, dragging the towel over her breasts, her nipples hardening from the coolness of the air. Nearby, I sit on the couch, shorts tenting, my erection at full attention, so hard that it’s starting to hurt, when she exits the bathroom and walks directly to her room, not even glancing in my direction.

  I can hear her moving around in her room as my legs vibrate, my patience running thin.

  I continue to flip through the channels on the television, not because I am searching for something to watch, but because I want the actual time to light up in the right upper corner of the TV. The closer it gets to seven, the more irritable I become.

  The sound of heels clicking along the tiled floor make my pulse race.

  “Leaving?” I ask, slowly turning on the couch to face her almost swallowing my tongue. I’ve seen Reese dressed up. I’ve seen her look amazing. Beautiful even. But tonight, she is standing before me, so stunning that I can’t help but ache.

  “I’m going out to dinner with Heather.” She looks down at herself as she runs her hand over the side of her form-fitted dress. It hits mid-thigh, and the heels she wears only made her legs seem like they go on forever. “She’s managed to get me trapped into a double date.”

  I only nod, because if I speak, I know I’ll mess up everything.

  “Be on standby,” she says with a laugh, and I look up from my focus on her body to meet her gaze. “I may need to put in a rescue call or text if this guy turns out to be anything like your girls from the bar that night.”

  “If he’s even half as bad as those girls, you won’t need to ask me to rescue you. He’ll be the one that needs rescuing.” I notice instantly the way her throat bobs when she swallows hard. “Promise me one thing?”

  “What?”

  “If he doesn’t respect you, then you call me.” I don’t want her to go. My body hums with the desire to get up and go to her. I try to pull her close and tell her to stay right here with me, but I know I shouldn’t.

  “I’m not dumb enough to spend time with a guy who doesn’t.” I know this already. Reese has never been the kind of girl who needs the attention of a man. I guess that’s why it makes it so easy to ignore the feelings I think I’ve had for years. There isn’t anyone out there competing for her attention or at least not someone of importance to her. But like I said before, something has shifted. I fear what the change means for her, but I can’t get myself to ask.

  “You’re not going out tonight?”

  “Gotta be in at five a.m. tomorrow.” I turn back to look at the television in desperate need of a distraction. “I’ll probably go to bed early.” I won’t be able to fall asleep until I know she is back here, alone and in bed safe and sound.

  “Good night then.” I want to look at her again, but I know if I did, it would be the final step from us being just friends to being more or maybe even less.

  “Night, Reese.” I try to hide the way my hand fists the controller tighter.

  The sound of her heels against the floor, followed by the click of the door as she closes it behind her, is like a punch to my stomach.

  Reese

  “She slept with your uncle?” I ask this, I think for the third time in the last five minutes, still reeling from the information.

  “Yep.” How this man could be smiling after his wife of two years slept with his uncle was beyond me. “Now they’re planning their wedding.” I already know my eyes must look like they’re bugging out of my head. “Imagine the awkwardness at any future family affairs.”

  “That is insane,” I say this slowly, shaking my head in disbelief.
“I don’t know how on earth you were able to keep your cool enough to pack a bag and walk out, while they were both still there. I think I would have gone crazy with anger.”

  “It was hard,” Lance admits, “but as I moved around our apartment, I just kept thinking that they weren’t worth it. That they deserved each other, and that I deserved more.”

  I am glad I came tonight. After my interaction with Dawson, I was left feeling unsettled and maybe even confused. I left the house feeling nervous, thinking I was walking into the date from hell, but I was wrong. Lance is a decent guy. He works in the music industry, more on the back side of things. Music promotion, tours and all that go along with getting a band known and loved. It was fascinating really to hear some of the stories he shared. It was also a job that was demanding and required long hours, which he said may have led to his ex-wife straying. To me, it still isn’t a good enough excuse. Cheating is something that isn’t tolerable. You are either with one person—all in—or you weren’t. It is that simple.

  “Well, if you ever need to throw it in her face that you’ve moved on without any lingering thoughts, I’d be happy to help you rub her loss in her face.” I try to be kind because even though he acts as if it still doesn’t bother him, I know it has too. Then I think how my words sound. I try to figure out how I can retract them to make it seem much more friendly and a lot less provocative.

  “You Reese, are a definite upgrade,” Lance says in a low husky tone, and I understand that it is too late to try.

  “Thank you,” I reply, feeling an awkwardness that I know I was responsible for creating.

  Heather and I spend the next couple of hours laughing and enjoying the craziness between Lance and Jacob, Heather’s current guy. They’ve been friends for years. Between the two of them, they have had hours upon hours of entertainment to share.