Blurred Lines
Page 40

The server moves away, and Parker leans forward. “What’s wrong with you? You look ready to puke.”
I lean forward, too, deciding to lay it out and play it totally straight with her, because she’s my best friend and she deserves it.
“When you pitched this whole friends-with-benefits thing, how long did you envision it lasting?” I ask.
She blinks. “Um, I don’t know. Can’t really say that I was thinking about a timeline.”
I breathe out a long breath. “Are you aware that it’s been nearly two weeks? We’ve been having sex for two weeks.”
“Yeah? So?” she says, her nose scrunching.
“I haven’t…” I rub a hand over the back of my neck. Might as well just say it. “I haven’t been with anyone else since the first night you and I hooked up.”
Parker’s silent for several seconds before she starts cracking up. “Oh my God. You should see your face right now.”
I smile begrudgingly. “It’s not funny.”
It is. A little.
“Sorry.” She tries for a straight face and fails, chuckling into her champagne flute. “Okay, so I thought we covered this. If one of us wants to sleep with someone else, we just say the word—”
“Right,” he says quickly. “Like you and that guy from the bar—”
“Brandon,” she says.
I clench my fists beneath the table.
“Sure. So you’re going to call Brandon, and then it won’t be weird if I hang out with another girl.”
“Definitely not weird.”
“Right.”
“Right,” she repeats.
“Right.”
The server comes back with the whiskey menu, which I take, my eyes never leaving Parker. The server is astute enough to know that she’s interrupting something and backs away without a word.
“Oh God,” Parker says, her voice a little panicked. “We’re not going to let it get weird. Are we?”
No. No way will I let that happen.
“Here’s what we’re gonna do,” I say, opening the menu. “Tomorrow is Friday. You’re going to see if Brandon wants to go out. I’m going to go out on the prowl.”
“Don’t call it a prowl, weirdo.”
I continue as though she hasn’t spoken. “And then you’re going to get laid by this Brandon guy. I’m going to find myself a cute blonde.”
I shut the menu after verifying that they have my favorite and look back at Parker. “Sound good?”
“Definitely,” she says with a little smile. “Because we wouldn’t want you to get in a sex rut.”
“Exactly,” I say, smiling. “That, and I don’t want to ruin your sex life forever. Too much of me, and the poor other guys will never measure up.”
She points at me with her wineglass. “I don’t know how you got it in your head that sort of cockiness is a turn-on, but I’m here to tell you it’s not.”
I lean forward. “You sure about that?”
My voice is huskier than I mean it to be, and Parker’s eyes respond by going a little smoky.
She licks her lips. “So this whole sex-with-other-people thing…that starts…tomorrow?”
“Mmm-hmm,” I say, my gaze studying her mouth.
“And that will mean the end of…us. This sleeping-together thing.”
I ignore the stab of disappointment that shoots through me at these words. This is the right call. Better to end it before it gets…messy.
“So that means tonight,” she says, “you and me…last time—?”
She breaks off and lifts her eyebrows in question.
I grin. “Definitely.”
Chapter 17
Parker
Ben’s idea was really, really good in theory.
The whole Let’s sleep with other people so we don’t let things get too intense idea, I mean.
And I’m relieved that he came up with it, truly.
Because he’s so right.
Even though we’re not, like, falling for each other, the fact that we’ve been completely monogamous for two weeks is so not what our arrangement was supposed to be about.
It was supposed to be casual sex with the other person whenever we felt like it.
Only, we aren’t supposed to feel like it all the damn time.
So, like I said. Ben’s plan of changing up our sex partners? It’s a good plan. A great plan.
In theory.
The reality…
Ugh.
Okay, here’s the thing. The entire reason I pitched my friends-with-benefits plan to Ben was because of my inability to think sexy thoughts about a stranger.
As my mom pointed out, I clearly have to have some sort of connection with someone before I sleep with them.
Which is why…as nice as Brandon Mallory is, and as good-looking…I can’t go home with him. I just can’t.
To his credit, Brandon doesn’t push me.
After a perfectly lovely meal at a casual little Italian place he’d suggested, he doesn’t even blink when I say that I’ll hail a cab.
“Can I call you again?” he asks, as we do the awkward linger-in-front-of-the-taxi thing.
“Sure, I’d like that,” I reply, meaning it.
I don’t know that Brandon’s the love of my life or anything, but dinner was nice. I may not be feeling the sexy vibes tonight, but a second date can’t hurt.
“Good,” he says with a slow smile. Brandon has a nice smile.