Page 8 of Bending The Rules

“I’ll wait here.”

Crap.

I tried not to inhale too much as he stepped in, but it was no use. He’d worn the same cologne for the past ten years. A scent my brain had permanently connected tohim– leather and linen and vanilla and cedar and so many other subtle undertones that it was hard to identify. I’d always thought it was heavenly.

Today, it was damn near erotic.

“I’m going to get dressed,” I announced, hurrying toward the bedroom of my suite. “I’ll be right out.”

I couldn’t slide those doors closed quickly enough.

“Get it together, Tee,” I mumbled to myself, then hustled to the closet to pull out my dress. It was already pressed, so I only had to put it on, and get myself to the bathroom to do something about my hair, put on some eyeliner or something, and get my jewelry on. It took me less than twenty minutes to get dressed, since I had everything I needed prepared in advance –Rule #17: If you stay ready, you don’t have to get ready.I sat down on the edge of the bed and took a mental inventory as I put my shoes on.

Two minutes later, I pulled open the sliding doors that separated the bedroom from the rest of the suite.

Justin’s back was to me, and he was on the phone, doing what sounded like making arrangements for his daughter to be picked up from school. A pang of guilt struck me in the chest – that probably wouldn’t have been necessary if I hadn’t overslept, creating a need for our meeting to get pushed back.

The credit for any organization skills I had belonged directly to him. Even as a child, everything needed to bejust sowith him. Everything neat, and in place – a trait that drove me crazy at first, but proved itself useful for managing the AP classes we shared, starting in junior high. He valued time, and taught me to value it too – especially time that wasn’tmine. I was pissed at myself for missing the meeting, but a different, less expected concern nagged at the back of my mind.

Had I disappointed him?

It made me a little sick to my stomach that I was starting the business of conducting this signing with a mistake. I was supposed to be faultless here. He was supposed to be basking in the aura of my amazingness, with everything I did leaving him filled with more regret. Already – because the date had been chosen and announced, and we were already advertising this thing – he was getting the treatment I usually reserved formyauthors. All of my little promotional tools, marketing secrets, personal touches, etc, were getting put to use for him, so he could see exactly what his decision to stab me in the back was costing him.

That fancy ass publisher of his wouldn’t have taken a moment to honor his mother.

They wouldn’t make sure his favorite snacks – not that crackers and cheese shit – were waiting in the back.

They wouldn’t have gotten in touch with our old classmates, the local radio station, etc, to make sure he had a big turnout, and felt the love of the community he’d grown up in.

I knew all of this, because I’d done my research. They treated him (and all of their authors, except the quirky white cash cows) like an employee – no, like he was someone they were doing a favor for, and he should just be grateful to be there. There was no sense of community, no sense offamily– the exact opposite of the way I ran my business.

I shook my head. I’d had this internal rant more times than I cared to remember, usually with a glass of wine, and Mary J BligeI Can Love You Betterplaying in my head.

Or blasting from the speakers, on repeat.

But I hadn’t done that in a while.

I finally stepped out of the doorway as Justin’s conversation went on. As I moved to the counter to gather my laptop bag and purse, I realized that he was talking to his father, which made me smile. Growing up, Big Joe had been something like a favorite uncle to me, and his mother, Priscilla, a loving aunt. I could talk to them when I couldn’t talk to my parents. His brothers were like my cousins. And Justin himself?

Myverybest friend.

I blinked back sudden tears, and swallowed the lump in my throat before it could build. Even though I tamped down the physical evidence, it didn’t change the ache that I’d been living with for the past seven years.

I missed my friend.

I sat down at the counter, watching him as I tried to figure out what was going on in my head. In all the time we spent together, there had never been a moment where I found myself thinking about Justin sexually. Maybe because of how long we’d been friends. Maybe because we were both serial monogamists, and had never been single together. Things blossomed between friends all the time, it wasn’t like that was some rare thing. But… that wasn’tus.We were for real friends.

And yet… here I was. A prickle of awareness on my skin, butterflies in my stomach, heat between my legs… undeniably physically attracted to the man I used to call my best friend.

I stood up, intending to go back into the bedroom to let myself… cool off. But my movements seemed to finally catch Justin’s attention, and when he turned in my direction, his reaction froze me to the spot. He recovered quickly, putting on a neutral expression, but not before I saw the way his eyes lit up. Felt his gaze rake over me in a way that wasn’t friendly, at all. Read his lips as he mouthed“damn”to himself.

Heat rushed to my face.

I wasblushing.

Over Justin.

Father God, help.

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