Charming My Best Friend (Fated #2) (8 page)

I hung up the phone and stared at it.

Was he serious? What the hell had gotten into him?

Besides my tongue…

Thank god one of us was thinking straight. Chelsea must have
screwed him up in the head more than I realized. Or he was finally starting to
feel the effects of his repeated concussions. Regardless, he obviously needed
me to humor him, and as long as I kept him at a distance so his crazy ideas
didn’t go past joking, everything would be back to normal in no time.

Cause as much as he was a great kisser, I wanted my best friend
back. Not this horny clown.

And to think I was going to apologize for running out on him
like a freak! Just as well I did or he might’ve had to apologize for a whole
lot more than getting a bit handsy.

I laid the phone on the counter and shook my head just as the
door opened. I looked up in time to see Fiona stumbling in, looking a hot mess
with her shoes in her hand.

“Oh god don’t judge me,” she said, dropping her shoes on the
floor.

“I’m not.”

“Why are you making that face then?”

“Sorry, it’s not you.”

“What is it?”

“Nothing. How was your date?”

She walked over to the recliner and collapsed. “Which one?”

“Sorry?”

“Please bring me water oh my god.”

“Yeah, sure.” I grabbed a glass and filled it with tap water.
“What do you mean which one?”

“Well, first we went to a movie. Then we went to a club. Then we
went to a diner at, like, five am. Then we went to the beach for mimosas.”

“I see,” I said, handing her the glass of water. “So which was
your favorite?”

She tilted the glass up to her mouth and leaned her head back,
making big gulping noises. “I don’t know. It was a pretty beautiful sunrise.”

I slumped on the couch. “Who knew male nurses could party all
night?”

“I know, right?!”

“So you’re pretty much done for the day?”

“Sooo done,” she said. “Might even call in sick tomorrow if my
bestie can do my color client at eleven.”

I closed one eye and tried to remember what my schedule was
like. “That’s probably fine.”

“Thank god,” she said. “I’ve been hoping you’d say that since my
waffle feed earlier.”

I smiled. “I’m glad you had a good time.”

“Me, too.” Fiona closed her eyes for a second and sighed. “Oh
god, I hope I don’t get a second wind when I’m ready to pass out.”

“Surely you’re way past your second wind.”

She shrugged without opening her eyes. “You’re right. I’ve lost
count. So how was your night?”

I figured I’d just tell her cause she probably wouldn’t remember
anyway.

“Aiden broke up with Chelsea.”

Her head popped up and she looked at me through bloodshot eyes.
“Did you tell him-”

I shook my head. “No, I guess he figured it out himself. I’m not
sure how. He was pretty drunk when he called me.”

“So did you go meet up with him?”

I nodded.

“Why are you making that face?”

“He kissed me, Fiona.”

“Fuck off.”

“I did.”

“What?”

“I did fuck off. Right after.”

She leaned forward and hung her head. “Wait what? More water.
Then details.”

I rolled my eyes and grabbed her empty glass. She was mouthy
when she was drunk, but she always obliged me when I was in a similar state.

“Alright,” she said, reaching for her refill. “Tell me
everything.”

“So he called me from Firehouse and told me to-”

“Okay, I was lying. Please skip to the good parts. Time is of
the essence here.”

“Right. So we were back at his place and he cut himself making
nachos.”

“I’m not even going to ask.”

“I know. Anyway, I put a band aid on him, and a second later he
was kissing me.”

She squealed and clapped her hands together. “And I thought my
night was exciting!”

“It was exciting all right, perhaps more exciting than I wanted
it to be.”

“What are you talking about? Haven’t you been waiting for this
moment forever?”

“No.”

She cocked her head.

“I mean, sure, maybe there was a time back in the day when I
really wanted something to happen, but I’m over it.”

“Really?”

“And I definitely never meant for it to happen like this.”

“Isn’t the important thing that it happened? That he realized
what a babe you are?”

“He didn’t realize shit.” I put my feet up on the coffee table.
“He was just drunk and horny.”

She laughed. “You sound like you’re complaining. Drunk-horny
Aiden is my favorite.”

I rolled my eyes. “He was only trying to distract himself from
the fact that his model girlfriend was cheating on him.”

“I don’t think he’d use you like that.”

I shrugged. “But you also didn’t think someone could cut
themselves making nachos.”

Her whole face scrunched around her nose. “True.”

I sighed.

“So have you talked to him since?”

“Yeah, just before you got home.”

“Hence the face.”

I nodded.

“And was it weird?”

“I thought it might be,” I said. “But he just started hitting on
me and inviting me into his bed.”

Her eyes grew wide.

“I think he was still drunk.”

“Or you left him wanting more?”

“Yeah, that’s it. After his last few relationships with cover
girls, one little kiss from me converted him into liking broke, combat boot
wearing hairstylists.”

“Say what you want, but I was confused for weeks after I kissed
you that one time.”

I laughed. “That had nothing to do with me and everything to do
with your wine diet.”

“So what now?”

“I told him to get Tinder and not contact me until he had a date
with someone else.”

“Wow.”

“What?”

“I’m just surprised you aren’t more excited.”

“Why would I be excited?”

“Cause you’ve been crushing on this guy for donkey’s.”

“And every time I think something might happen, I end up feeling
like shit when he moves on to the next bright shiny object like a goddamn
goldfish.”

“But you’re the brightest, shiniest object around.”

“And you’re as shitfaced as you are full of shit.”

“I do feel pretty great right now.”

“The point is, we got a little carried away cause we were drunk,
but I have no reason to think it meant anything, and I’m not about to
jeopardize our friendship for something has no chance of lasting any longer
than your waffle feed probably did.”

“It was a bit of a blur alright,” Fiona said, letting her head
fall back.

My phone plinked on the table and I picked it up. “Speak of the
devil.”

“What did he say?”

I opened the text and cleared my throat. “He said, I just liked
a girl on Tinder. What do I say when she likes me back?” I read aloud as I
typed, “She might not like you back. Just keep swiping and don’t get your hopes
up.”

“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?” Fiona asked.

“Not at all. He must’ve literally just downloaded it. I’m
telling you, he’s excitable right now.”

My phone plinked a second later.

“Him again?” she asked.

“What did I tell you?” I asked, opening the message. “It says, I
have a really good feeling about this one. Just tell me what to say when she
likes me back.” I groaned.

Fiona smiled. “Why don’t you tell him to say he’s really rich and
handsome and horny?”

“I guess he could say that and get away with it,” I said,
feeling a weird twist in my gut.

“Or how about…” She squinted at the coffee table. “Just broke up
with my cheating ex and wondering if you wanna be my rebound?”

I shook my head. “Absolutely not.”

“What are you going to say then?”

“I don’t know.”

“Tell him that cheesy lines never work,” she said. “He should
keep it simple.”

“Like hi or something?”

“How about- hi, I’m good with my hands,” she said.

“We don’t know if that’s true.”

“Whose fault is that?” she asked, looking down her nose at me.

I forced the thought of his big hands out of my mind. “This is
so strange,” I said, staring at the phone. “I can always come up with something
to say. I don’t get why I’m having such a hard time giving him advice on this.”

Fiona planted her forearms down on the recliner like she was getting
ready to stand up. “Maybe that’s because you don’t want him to meet someone
else.”

I swallowed.

“Maybe you want to keep him all to yourself.”

“Don’t be stupid. That’s ridiculous.”

She rose to her feet and stared at me. “If you say so.”

The swiping was fun for a while.

It was kind of like walking through the red light district in
Amsterdam except it felt way less shady. Within five minutes, I could see why
people got addicted to it, but I couldn’t see that happening to me.

Maybe because I was too picky.

But I liked being able to see what mutual friends the girl and I
had in common. It made it easy to weed out anyone that was friends with
Chelsea. Before I started, I had this crazy idea that I would veto anyone who
looked like a model just to see if I could break that bad habit, but when I saw
how many girls didn’t look like models, I vetoed that rule instead.

Unfortunately, after two beers and just as many Simpson’s
episodes, I still hadn’t found what I was looking for.

And then there she was. A pretty brunette with a genuine smile
that spread all the way up to her eyes. I tapped the screen to look through her
pictures.

The first one was a selfie of her smiling next to a big
sunflower. The second was of her eating a piece of birthday cake with a pointy
party hat on. The third was of her coming down a slide wearing little shorts with
her hands in the air, and the last one was of her looking decidedly tipsy with
perfect little shamrocks painted on her cheeks.

And suddenly, I realized why I hadn’t gotten excited about any
of the other girls.

It was because she was the one I was looking for. And after
fifteen years of her being right in front of me, it was like I’d finally found
her.

But I didn’t know what the appropriate Tinder etiquette was for
coming across someone you knew. My gut reaction was that you should like them
because they were your friend. Yet there must’ve been people who took online
dating too seriously for that.

Plus, what if you liked someone to be polite and they got the
wrong idea? Or worse, what if you wanted them to get the wrong idea and they didn’t?

All I could do was hope that when I popped up on Lucy’s screen,
she would know I wasn’t being polite.

After all, I told her I wasn’t sorry that I’d kissed her. I’d
even gone so far as to invite her back into my bed which I meant with every
muscle in my body. So if she right swiped me back, I might just have a chance.

Besides, there was no way I could humor the idea of going out
with another girl when I was preoccupied with getting to the bottom of this Lucy
situation, or more specifically, getting into Lucy’s bottoms.

Granted, I didn’t know if she was attracted to me, but she’d
kissed me back without laughing, and that was something. At the very least, it gave
me enough confidence to tap the little heart and hope for the best.

Which she was.

And I was an idiot for not realizing it sooner.

At the same time, I was a little concerned about how excited I
was. I’d had many periods when I was single where I swapped women as often as
Lucy swapped hair colors. And in lots of those cases, I’d had no problem
walking away once my curiosity had been satisfied.

But I didn’t want to walk away from Lucy. Even if we slept
together and the chemistry wasn’t there, I still hoped we could be friends. Yet
part of me felt like that was naïve.

Was it worth risking our friendship to find out if we could have
more?

I didn’t know. Lucy obviously didn’t think so. But she only had
one head.

And I had two.

And two heads were supposed to be better than one.

Plus, there was a stubborn, stupid school boy inside me that was
hell bent on getting my best friend to admit I was a great kisser and more. And
why shouldn’t I go for it? Making Lucy smile had been my favorite thing to do since
I’d gotten my first pair of Velcro shoes.

In fact, I remember the first time I saw her like it was
yesterday.

My Mom took my sister and me to the park, and Claire had just
stopped being fun. I still wanted to run around and play, but she was more
concerned with her sticker collection so I was on my own.

As a result, I set out to do a round of the playground to see
who was there just like I used to do rounds at the bar in college.

As I was doing so, I remember coming around the corner and
seeing Lucy in the sandbox with a little boy who I later found out was her brother,
Alex. She was helping him build a sand castle, and I remember it being the
first time I’d ever seen someone wearing a sideways ponytail. I didn’t really
know what to think of it besides the fact that my Mom would never have let
Claire wear her hair like that.

Anyway, out of nowhere this kid came over and started stomping
on their carefully crafted sand towers. Alex covered his face so he wouldn’t
get sand in his eyes, but Lucy sprang up like a rocket and didn’t even give the
kid a warning. Instead, she pushed his shoulders back with both hands, kicking
his feet out from under him at the same time.

It was the coolest shit I’d ever seen. The kid fell down and
started crying instantly, but Lucy didn’t even give him a second look.

Instead, she went back over to Alex whose bottom lip was shaking
so much he looked like he was a moment away from crying himself.

“It’s okay,” she said, patting his back.

“Ruined!” Alex said, tearing at his hair.

“We can build it back up again,” Lucy said. “It’ll be even
better this time.”

When she finally got Alex to calm down, I went over and asked if
she wanted any help rebuilding her castle.

She looked up for a second and then said. “I think we’ve got it
under control.”

I took a step back.

“But if you want to collect some rocks to decorate it, that
would be cool,” she added.

A second later, her Mom appeared and pointed across the park to
the mean kid. “Did you hurt that boy over there?”

“I was protecting Alex,” she said, molding some sand between her
small hands.

Her Mom squinted. “His Mom told me he just wanted to play with
you guys.”

Lucy looked up. “He came over and stomped on our castle.”

Her Mom’s mouth formed a straight line.

“It’s true,” I said. “I saw the whole thing.”

Lucy’s Mom folded her arms and looked back and forth between me
and Lucy. “I want both of you to hang your heads for a second and pretend you’re
in trouble.”

I watched Lucy hang her head and followed suit.

Then her Mom bent down and put her arm on Lucy’s shoulder.

I tried to look up without lifting my head.

Mrs. Ryan lowered her voice. “I’m proud of you for standing up
to the bully. You did the right thing.”

Lucy nodded, keeping her eyes on the ground.

Her Mom straightened back up. “Okay, you guys can raise your
heads again now and go back to playing.”

We’d been a team ever since.