Falling for My Best Friend (Fated #1) (3 page)

I had just let myself into the apartment when my phone started
to ring.

“Hey Dad,” I said, slinging my purse over a chair. “What’s up?”

“I’m worried about your brother.”

“Why? Did something happen?” I kicked off my black boots and
wiggled my toes.

“No. He still won’t come out of his room.”

“Should I buy some pot and invite him over? I bet that would get
him out of the house.”

“That’s not funny.”

I shrugged. “I thought it was.”

“I’ve never seen him so depressed, Lucy. He’s moping around in
the same clothes, speaking in single syllable grunts-”

“Sounds pretty normal to me. I mean, he’s a teenage boy. It’s
not like he’s going to sit down and talk about his feelings with you.”

“I just don’t even know what to say to him.” He let out a heavy
sigh. “Your mother would’ve though. She would’ve known what to say-”

“She would’ve given him his space just like you’re doing,” I
said. “Just let him know that you’re there if he needs you. Honestly, that’s
enough.” I made my way towards the kitchen. “Let him work through his
heartbreak with his guitar. It’s much better for him than going out and getting
shitfaced.”

“He’s been doing that, too.”

“Oh good,” I said, opening the fridge and staring into it. “So
he’s fine. He’ll get over it. Trust me.”

“Would you talk to him?”

“I don’t know. He knows I hated Ceci so I’m probably the last
person he wants to talk to right now.”

“Please.”

“Fine,” I said. “If it will make you feel better, I’ll talk to
him.”

“Thanks, Luce. I’d really appreciate it.”

“Sure.”

“But please don’t bring him any pot.”

“It was a joke.”

“Oh. Okay, good,” he said, letting a moment of silence linger
between us. “So. How are things with you?”

“Fine. I just got home though, so I’m gonna get something to
eat,” I said. “I’ll catch up with you soon. Love you.”

“Love you, too, sweetheart.”

I slumped on the couch and flicked through my phone. I had three
new Tinder matches. One of them, Brad, had already sent me a message. “What’s
up, beautiful?”

I sighed. Nothing boosted my ego like the empty flattery of a
complete stranger. “Nm, you?” I texted.

“Hey bitch,” Fiona said, swinging the front door open.

“Hey.”

“Been back long?”

“No, just got in. Aiden dropped me off.”

“Sorry I missed him. Is he still with that stick insect?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Ugh.”

“How was work?” I asked.

“Same old.” She dropped her purse on the chair next to mine. “Why
did you leave so early?”

I shrugged. “I didn’t have any more clients coming in, and I figured
if I stuck around Chuck would piss me off.”

“No shit. I actually lost count of how many times his hand
grazed my ass today.”

I shook my head. “That’s fucked up.”

“We have to get out of there.”

“I know,” I said. “But I just checked my savings yesterday, and it’ll
be at least a year before I have enough for us to open our own place.”

“We could go work somewhere else in the meantime though.”

I nodded. “Believe me, I’ve thought about it. But the hassle of
asking our clients to move- I don’t know- I guess I only want to do it once.
Plus, we’d have to take a pay cut if we left, and then it would take even longer
to get our own place.”

“He’s disgusting though.” She shuddered, a visible chill running
up her body. “I think he’s actually getting worse.”

“What do you want to do? Cut his dick off and style hair in jail?”

She went to the fridge and grabbed a can of Coke. “Well, I
wasn’t going to jump right to that.”

“Maybe I’m closer to snapping than you are.”

“Any matches today?” she asked, curling up on the cozy recliner
we scored by the side of the road.

“Three.” I pulled out my phone. “This guy already messaged me.”

She took my phone and looked at his picture. “He looks yummy.”

“So did Cory.”

“Yeah, but as soon as you told me his name was Cory, I pictured the
guy from Boy Meets World and totally lost interest.”

I laughed. “C’mon, he was cuter than that.”

“Same hair though.”

“Whatever.” I put my feet up on the coffee table. “I wish I had
what Cory and Topanga had.”

“Too bad you never will.”

I cocked my head. “Why not?”

“Cause you never go on more than two dates with any of the guys
you meet.”

“I haven’t met anyone that’s worth the investment.”

“I thought for sure you’d keep seeing that Spanish guy after you
told me what a good fuck he was.”

“Yeah, me too… Until I realized he was a one trick pony.”

“You know what your problem is?” she asked, popping open her soda.

“I’m incapable of emotional depth?”

She laughed. “No.”

“What is it then, Dr.Phil?”

“You compare every guy you go out with to Aiden.”

“No I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

“That’s impossible. I’ve never even kissed Aiden, much less
slept with him.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“I’m listening.” I leaned against the arm of the couch and
propped my head up with my hand.

“I just mean it’s unlikely that you’re going to meet someone who
gets you the way he does so it’s not fair to hold random guys to that
standard.”

“Meh.”

“Seriously. There must be other guys out there who would be as
funny and interesting to you as he is, but you never give anyone the chance to
prove whether they have that kind of potential.”

“I don’t want to waste my valuable time getting to know someone
who doesn’t cut it-”

“Whatever. That’s just my two cents.”

“And I really don’t think that’s true. Yeah, I’m comfortable
with Aiden, but it’s not like I don’t give people a chance. If anything, I give
too many people a chance.”

She smiled. “Yeah, well, someone has to make up for all the
nuns.”

“I would love to meet someone with Aiden’s hair though. It’s so
dark and thick and perfect. That’s the kind of hair on a man I can really get
excited about.”

“Not me,” Fiona said. “I’d rather have an All American boy with
blond hair and blue eyes who looks far too innocent to do the nasty things I’d
have planned for him.”

“Speaking of hair, I think I might want you to change my pink
streaks.”

“You don’t like them?”

“No, I do. I just think I might like purple better.”

“Sure, no problem. Whenev.”

“Thanks.”

“You want to go out tonight?” she asked, covering her mouth as
she burped. “Excuse me.”

“I don’t know. I’m pretty beat.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say almost getting saved took
a lot out of you.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not even close to saved.”

“Did he say how it happened?”

“Robotripping.”

“Fuck off.”

I laughed.

“Maybe we shouldn’t go out then,” she said. “I mean, if all we
need is a bottle of cough syrup and Jesus will come party with us-”

“I don’t think Cory would appreciate you making light of his
religious transformation.”

“Fair enough. I’d probably fall asleep before I hallucinated
anything worthwhile anyway.”

“Probably. You get loopy from half a dose of Benadryl.”

“True.”

“I actually might go out of my way to see Cory again. His Mom
makes a mean strawberry cheesecake.”

Fiona pulled her knees to her chest. “How would you know that?”

“Because he gave me a piece before I left her café.”

“Wait-what?”

“His parents were on the date.”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry. That is too ridiculous.”

“I thought you would enjoy that.”

“I can just picture it. You’re there looking for an eligible
booty call while your date can’t wait to introduce you to his parents. Classic.”

“One for the books anyway.”

“Well, even if you don’t want to go out, I have to shower
anyway. I have Chuck’s ick vibes all over me.”

“Understandable. In the meantime, I’ll have a beer and see how I
feel.”

“C’mon.” She dropped her arms to her sides. “We should go out.
Otherwise you’ll just stay in and swipe left all night.” She walked over to the
fridge and stared at the cool glow.

“Are you suggesting I’ll enjoy it more if I do it somewhere
louder where the drinks are more expensive?”

“Yes, infinitely,” she said, pulling out two bottles of Sunset
Wheat and grabbing the bottle opener off the counter.

“I’ll think about it. It’s still early.”

She set the beers down on the coffee table. “I know, but I don’t
want to pay any cover charges,” she said, popping off the bottle caps and
leaving them where they rolled.

“Well, it’s free to drink here all night.”

She handed me a beer. “You’re no fun.”

“That’s not true.” I took a swig of beer, thinking the berry
taste would’ve gone great with another slice of cheesecake.

“You have forty five minutes to change your mind.”

“Or not.”

She narrowed her eyes at me.

“Either way, I’ll definitely have a decision by then.”

“Fair enough,” she said, clinking her bottle against mine. Then
she turned on her heels and headed down the hall to take a shower.

I set my beer down and picked up one of the bottle caps, rolling
it between my fingers. When I heard the bathroom door close, I pulled my sleeve
up to my elbow and looked at the scars on the inside of my arm.

They were raised and white, having healed a long time ago.
Still, I dragged the sharp edge of the bottle cap over them, scratching along
the scar just hard enough to feel something.

Anything.

I was still annoyed with Chelsea when I woke up Sunday morning so
I didn’t lie around. Instead, I got up right away and went for a run, feeling
better as soon as the warm summer sunshine hit my face.

I hated to be annoyed with her, especially when I knew how much
pressure she was putting on herself. Still, it was obvious we had some
problems.

First of all, she blatantly lied to me about her wallet, and
while I don’t care how much the groceries for dinner cost, that wasn’t the
point.

Unlike my father, I believed money was best spent on people and
experiences, not hidden away where no one could enjoy it. And I never regretted
being generous with my money. For example, she only had to drop three hints
before I realized she wasn’t going to be happy with anything besides that butt
ugly Louis Vuitton backpack for her birthday. So I got it for her. Big whoop.

And while I gave her that gift- and so many others- without
hesitating, I did it because I thought we were on the same page. Unfortunately,
if she couldn’t dig deep for a few rolls from the supermarket, it was hard to
believe she was invested in having a future with me, one that I wanted to be a
part of anyway.

The other problem was what she said last night. I know she was
just angry and hungry and that her own feelings were hurt, but if she meant
what she said about me being a washed up loser even a little bit, I couldn’t
stay with her. I didn’t want to be with somebody that saw me that way.

If I wanted to feel like I disappointed somebody, I’d just call
my old man.

Obviously, I wished I was still playing rugby. That was no
secret, and neither was the fact that I left the game because I was a few
concussions away from having no future at all. Surely anyone who sincerely
cared about me would understand that I didn’t really have a choice in the end.
Plus, the way she said it didn’t make it sound like she pitied me. It was more
like she thought I gave up. Or let her down.

And while I was sure enough in myself and what I wanted for the
future that her opinion wasn’t about to make or break me, I wanted a strong
woman in my life, a woman who would support me and actually fucking listen when
I tried to comfort her.

And I was beginning to think Chelsea couldn’t be that for me
long term.

As I finished my first lap of the park, I tried to figure out
how we got where we were. Maybe Lucy was right. I did have a habit of dating
models, but that’s just because I still hung out with athletes, and they just
happened to show up places looking hot.

But I was starting to think that a physical connection wasn’t
enough.

Though I’m not sure when that happened.

It was enough when I was in college, when all I was after was a
bit of fun. But now that I didn’t spend the majority of my time partying with
big groups of people, it was becoming increasingly obvious that choosing a girlfriend
the way I might choose any other accessory wasn’t bringing me as much happiness
as it used to.

Maybe I needed to find someone that was on my level, someone who
wasn’t cranky from denying themselves carbs all the time. And surely there were
ambitious women out there who didn’t cry about their job every other day. And while
I liked the fact that Chelsea wanted to please me sexually, there was less of
her to hold on to all the time, as if she wasn’t just slipping away
figuratively, but literally, too.

Perhaps our relationship had run its course.

It had been almost a year, and I wasn’t convinced I loved her
enough to keep working at it. It’s not like I had unrealistic expectations. I
knew it was natural for the initial excitement of being with someone to fade
and that eventually both of our cracks would start to show, but I was starting
to think her cracks weren’t the kind I could live with.

After all, things were pretty stressful already. I wasn’t sure I
wanted to be around for the day she got the call saying she couldn’t model
anymore. Which was bound to happen. It was the nature of her business.

And when I tried to picture us ten years down the line, there
was no smile on my face.

Regardless, I wasn’t going to do anything about it now. As long
as we both cared about each other, I wouldn’t throw in the towel. Deep down,
she was a good person, and she needed someone in her corner right now.

I ran up the steps outside our apartment building, stopping at
the top to stretch my calves. When I let myself back in the apartment, I didn’t
see her. I figured she was either still sleeping or out picking up McDonald’s
breakfast. Not.

I pulled my sweaty shirt off as I walked in the bathroom and
closed the door. Then I reached in the shower to turn the water on and scooted a
towel along the bar so it would be closer to the shower.

Normally, I tried to avoid looking in the mirror, but I let my
eyes wander there while I waited for the shower to steam up. It wasn’t that I
didn’t like how I looked because I was in bad shape. It was the opposite.

I still had the muscle definition I built playing rugby. I was a
little skinnier, of course, since I didn’t need extra bulk to protect me from
getting hit by other players, but seeing myself naked just reminded me that my
muscles had so much purpose before I got injured.

My shoulders used to have to be strong so I could barrel into my
opponents. My abs were cut to help me hold my position in the scrum. And I
hated that they were only aesthetic now, just souvenirs from a game I was never
going to play again.

I slid the shower door open and stepped inside, letting the hot
water scald my skin and relax my tight muscles. I grabbed one of my feet and
pulled it behind me, steadying myself against the wall with the other hand
while I stretched my quads in succession.

A moment later, the shower door slid open and Chelsea stepped
inside.

“Morning babe,” she said, sliding her arms over my shoulders.

“Morning,” I said, pulling her under the water.

“I’m sorry about last night.” She looked down for a second and
let her hips fall against mine. “I was a total bitch.”

“You were just upset. Don’t worry about it.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I never should’ve said those things
to you. I didn’t mean any of it. You know I didn’t, right?”

“Of course.”

“I’m going to make it up to you.”

“Oh yeah?”

She nodded. “Yeah, I’m going to make you forget last night ever
happened.”

“And how are you going to do that?” I asked.

She answered me by dropping to her knees.