“So, help me understand,” West says, and when I peek up at him between my fingers, he sets his book down. “If you’realready pissed you did the wrong thing, why’d you agree to more?”
“You don’t get to be logical here,” I say, wagging a finger at him. “I agreed to it because I’m a sad, sad man who can’t stand the thought of her finding someone else to fulfill her needs. Because I’m a masochist. Because”—I snatch the throw pillow off the couch beside me and smack myself in the face, punctuating each word—“I. Don’t. Know. How. To. Tell. My. Best. Friend. Who. I’m. In love. With. No.”
I hold the pillow over my face and groan.
I had the best night of my fucking life, and according to her, gave her exactly what she wanted, and I’m still fucking friend zoned.
“Maybe you should just tell her.”
I remove the pillow from my face and shoot him a scowl. “Little too late for that. I already fucked her under the pretenses that we’re just friends while knowing my true feelings. Only a week after she broke up with a dude who claimed to love her, I might add. A dude who used her and took advantage of her. Just how do you think that will make me look if I saySurprise!I’ve been harboring all these not-so-innocent feelings for you the whole time but said nothing, even when you asked me to sleep with you and specifically said you could trust me as your best friend. Yeah.” I laugh maniacally. “Somehow, I don’t see her taking that well.”
“Good point,” he says, and my scowl deepens.
I slam the pillow back over my face, waiting for some sage advice. Words of wisdom. Something?anything?to pull me out of the depths of despair. But as usual, West is silent.
Maybe I should’ve run to Damon.
“I swear to God, if I take this pillow off my face and you’re reading while I’m over here having an existential crisis . . .” I remove the pillow to find West’s gaze steady on me, and I sigh. “Well? You’re the smart one in the group. Don’t you have any advice?” I ask at the same time my phone trills, interrupting us.
With a grunt, I pull it from my pocket and check the screen?Tatum.
My heart hammers in my chest while I click on her text message, and her words fill my screen.
TATE:
My roommate will be out with her boyfriend most of the night. Wanna come over?
I throw my head back and groan. “I’m so fucked.”
I rise to my feet, both thrilled at the prospect of being with her again and tortured by the notion I’ll be even emptier inside afterward.
“Dude, where are you going?” West asks, standing.
“Duty calls.”
Chapter 33
TATUM
The familiar sight of my childhood home appears through the windshield as Brandon turns onto my street. The two-story colonial with its white shutters and expansive porch sits nestled among tall oak trees, their branches now bare against the November sky. My mom’s collection of festive gourds and mini pumpkins adorns the porch steps, a cheerful welcome for Thanksgiving.
“Home sweet home,” I murmur, stealing a glance at Brandon in the driver’s seat.
I haven’t been back for a visit since I left for the fall semester. Only a month ago, I would’ve bet money on Ethan being the one to accompany me, but I can’t say I’m disappointed it’s not. There’s no worry about how Brandon will feel about my parents; no fretting over whether my family will accept him. They’ve always had a soft spot for Brandon, and a strange senseof relief comes with being back here with him again, like nothing ever changed.
Only it has.
Thingshavechanged between us.
It’s been a month since my friends with benefits proposal, and as much as I’m afraid to admit it, being with Brandon has completely transformed my perspective on pretty much everything—what I want in a future, how I see him, how I see myself.
He smiles, his profile relaxed as he navigates the car into the driveway, and the day he picked me up for fall semester feels like forever ago.
He shifts the car in park and turns to me. “Your mom still make those amazing pumpkin cinnamon rolls for Thanksgiving morning?”
I roll my eyes, stifling a laugh as I unbuckle my seatbelt. “They’re your favorite, and she knows you’re coming, so yes.”
We walk up the sidewalk toward the front door, our hands brushing once, twice, and for a split second, I wonder if he might take mine. The thought barely forms before I shut it down. We’refriends.Friends with benefits, nothing more. I made that perfectly clear at the start of our arrangement, and he agreed, no matter what my foolish heart is starting to hope for.
