Page 80 of Plays Well With Others

When she’s gone, I shake off the buzzy feeling once more as I hand my friend the espresso. He takes it with a thanks, then says bluntly, “So you’re pretending you’re just friends?”

Of course he’d ask. Of course I’ll be honest. “We are just friends.”

“Friends who are sleeping together?” He asks like it’s a follow-up, “just to clarify” question posed to a patient.

“We won’t be the first. And we’re not going to let it ruin the friendship,” I say, determined. Then, I take a drink before I say anything else. Because I’m treading on dangerous ground now.

Monroe nods and takes another long swallow. “But has that ever worked in the history of ever?”

It’s a legit question asked with genuine concern. But I don’t know that I want to ponder it too hard. “I haven’t studied relationships. Why don’t you tell me, doc?” I counter, as my guard rails go up.

“Look, you don’t have to be honest with me,” he says, then gives me a serious stare. “But you bought her flowers. So I need to ask—are you being honest with yourself?”

I don’t gulp. I don’t blanch. I keep on my best poker face as I say, “Yes.”

“Good. That’s key,” he says, believing me.

When he leaves a little later, though, I turn his question over a few more times while I wipe down the espresso machine.

The more time I spend with Rachel like this, the more I realize it’s stirring up wishes and wants that have been part of me for a long time.

Probably years.

These nights and mornings are making me look back on all the other moments when she fell asleep in my house.

Like when she woke up and made me cinnamon pancakes.

If I’m being honest with myself—like Monroe challenged me to be—I’m pretty sure that once upon a time, I wanted those cinnamon pancakes to turn into something more.

What would’ve happened years ago if I’d confessed my uneasy feelings about Edward? Would she have called off the wedding? Would she have knocked on my door and asked me to kiss her like crazy and show her how it feels when a man wants her?

I’d have shown her and meant it then too.

Maybe I’d have had a chance to take her out before I met Sasha, Izzy, or Quinn. Before I became this jaded guy who doesn’t believe romance works out.

When I set down the washcloth and finish my half-drunk cup of espresso, it’s chased with regret.

That was then. This is now. We’ve both changed. I’m no longer a wide-eyed rookie when it comes to romance. I’ve been around the block and have the battle scars on my heart.

And Rachel? Well, she’s recovering from a horrible marriage. She’s barely divorced from a man who fathered three children in secret while married to her. Rachel’s been honest with me from the start. She wants sex with someone she trusts, and she also wants to experience theideaof a good boyfriend.

Not the reality.

She deserves sex and kindness. Hell, she should be showered in foot rubs and enjoy a willing ear from someone who pours her a glass of wine at the end of the day and leaves all the bullshit of relationships at the door.

No, in the next freaking state.

I can give her what she wants for three more dates. I can lavish her in orgasms and gifts like a fucking champ. I will make sure she feels nothing but bliss from this guy.

And, here’s the reality. I’d be a selfish prick if I pushed my sexy, sweet, funny, wounded friend for romance just because my heart is a little achy for her. I’d leave a shitty review online for me if I did that.

I damn well know this isn’t just ultra-sexing and un-datingfor me. The way I looked at her this morning in my bed, the way I felt when she puttered around my home, the way I was desperate to tell her how I felt about the game last night—that tells me all I need to know.

But I also knowthis—you win some and you lose some.

These newish feelings might hurt me a little over the next three dates. But I can handle the pain, just like I can handle a hard tackle.

The thing I won’t stand for is to let my feelings ruin our friendship. No way will I be that guy. I will swallow them down like the last dregs of a coffee and then motor on through the plan.

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