Blurred Lines (16 page)

When Parker comes back in the house, I’m watching TV, but not really
watching
it.

Mostly I’m grinding my teeth, hating myself for bringing up Lance’s name last night. It’s like I summoned the bastard by uttering his name out loud.

Because how else, after three weeks of us not even mentioning him, has it come to be that he’s on
my
goddamn front porch, talking to
my
—

Best friend.

I hear the front door close with a quiet click, and I tense, listening for the second set of footsteps that would indicate that Lance has been invited inside.

When Parker appears in the living room alone, I breathe out a quiet sigh of relief, although I never look away from the TV, not wanting to give away too much.

Not wanting her to see…Hell, I don’t even know what it is I don’t want her to see.

Only when she sits beside me and breathes a big sigh do I turn to face her, silencing the TV as I do so.

“Talk or mute?” I ask, defaulting to our old game. Because although a part of me wants to shake her and demand that she spill every last detail of whatever Lance said to her, she’s still my friend, first and always, and I’ll be whatever she needs me to be.

Even if that’s quiet.

She blows out another long breath. “Lance wants to get back together.”

The words tear at me a little, even though I’d been pretty prepared for them. I mean, why else would he wait around on our front porch like a loser, and then go and throw in that little reminder of when he used to sneak into Parker’s bedroom on family vacations?

And that—
that
—is what’s really clawing at me. The knowledge that not only was I just a stand-in for Lance on the Blanton family vacation, but that I’d also been a stand-in in Parker’s bed last night.

Here I’d been romanticizing the whole thing like some sort of dope, whereas for Parker it was old hat.

“How do you feel about that?” I force myself to ask.
How do you feel about him?

Her head falls back onto the couch and she looks exhausted.

Which, I guess, is better than her being all giddy about the fact that Lance finally saw what an idiot he’d been. But I’d prefer if she was maybe just a touch scathing, and a bit more forthcoming with some sort of over-my-dead-body proclamation at his get-back-together request.

“I don’t know,” she says. “I’m…it’s all so weird and confusing.”

She turns her head then, meeting my eyes for the first time really since last night, and I get the feeling she’s asking me something, but I don’t know what, and even if I knew the question, I sure as fuck wouldn’t know the answer.

“You’ll figure it out, Parks.” It’s the only thing I can think of to say.

“Do you think I should get back together with him?”

Oh God, don’t ask me that.

“I think you should do what you want to do,” I answer carefully.

Her arm swings out and she thwacks me across the chest. “Don’t be that guy. I need advice, damn it. Be my friend.”

I smile a little at her joking tone, because maybe things aren’t so changed between us after all.

Maybe last night was just a weird fluke. A moment of weakness, or whatever.

There’s no reason we can’t go back to how we were before, with our easy jokes. Even if she gets back together with Lance. Maybe that’s exactly what we need to pick up where we left off.

Back when our weekends involved harmless trips to IKEA, not trips to the beach that ended in mind-blowing sex.

“Don’t make it so complicated,” I tell her. “You’ve just got to decide. Are you happier with Lance? Or without him?”

“
Riiiiight.
Nothing complicated about that little tiny decision,” she says sarcastically.

I pat her hand where it’s fallen to my thigh. “You’ll figure it out.”

If my fingers linger just for a moment, we both ignore it. Because we each know that if she gets back together with Lance, these casual, lingering touches will be a thing of the past.

Parker’s chewing on a fingernail on her other hand, staring straight ahead. Her forehead’s all creased, and I know she’s overthinking this.

“Okay, walk me through the conversation,” I say. “Was it just a
Sorry, babe, my bad, let’s pretend it didn’t happen
?”

She rolls her eyes. “He’s not
you.
He cares about these things.”

My head snaps back a little, stung, but she’s too lost in thought to notice.

Is that what she thinks of me?

That I’m not capable of caring about people just because I don’t want to be in a committed relationship?

“He just got wrapped up in work and school. Didn’t know how to balance it all,” Parker explains.

I frown, not at all liking the way Lance seems to compartmentalize his life. A guy lucky enough to have Parker as his girlfriend should be
all consumed
by her. She shouldn’t be a checkbox on his “balanced life” worksheet.

“So what changed?” I ask.

She shakes her hand free of mine, and then leans all the way forward so that she’s staring at the floor. “He realized he needs me. Loves me.”

I swallow. “And you need him? Love him?”

The words feel sour on my tongue, and my body feels tight, like it wants to physically reject the words. And especially wants to reject what her answer will be.

“I think so,” she says quietly.

I ignore the strange splintering feeling inside me. “You
think
?”

“I don’t know!” she says, exploding off the couch. “I…can we just go back to the beginning of the conversation? I want to choose mute. I need to think, and I can’t think with you chirping in my ear.”

My temper spikes. “Not thirty seconds ago you were begging me for my thoughts on this. It’s not like I’ve been sitting here dying to force my opinion on you.”

“Do you even
have
an opinion?” she shoots back. “On
anything
?”

“I’ve got plenty of them,” I say, fully angry now. “But not on this. This has nothing to do with me!”

My outburst hangs between us, and she nods. “Right. You’re right, of course. This has nothing to do with you. I’m sorry, I just…I’m overwhelmed is all.”

“I know,” I say quietly. “I’m sorry for yelling at you. Probably not helpful.”

Her smile is small and sad and she doesn’t meet my eyes.

“Parks?” Instinctively, I know there’s something more. Something she hasn’t said yet.

Something I’m not going to like.

She lifts her eyes to mine, and they’re wide and a little bit scared.

“Lance wants me to move in with him.”

There’s no air in the room. I can’t even breathe.

“What did you tell him?” I manage.

“That I needed some time.”

I nod. “What are you
going
to tell him?”

Her eyes never leave mine, pleading with me to understand. “I’m going to tell him yes.”

“I still can’t even believe this,” Lori says as she studies my leopard print flats before seeing them carefully into a moving box. “It’s the end of an era.”

I swallow.

The end of an era indeed.

I’ve had the
exact
same thought a million times.

And then I had about a million
more
thoughts wondering if I could get out of it—if I could back out of moving in with Lance.

For a second, I want to tell Lori everything. I want to confide in someone that the only reason I said yes to Lance was because I was scared. Scared to death that if I stayed with Ben things would change, horribly.

Except they’re still changing horribly, only now I have to deal with the change minus a best friend.

But telling Lori any of this is bound to bring up questions I’m not ready to answer.

Questions about me. And Ben.

About what the hell happened that last night in Cannon Beach.

So instead I say nothing, and continue my self–pep talk that moving in with Lance is the right decision. The move-forward-with-my-life decision.

I don’t look up from where I’m wrapping all of my perfume bottles in Bubble Wrap. “Thanks for helping me pack.”

“Oh, of course,” she says with a wave of her hand. “This is the easy part. At least you have two dudes to help with the heavy stuff tomorrow.”

I say nothing, and she pauses. “Right? Ben’s helping? Because I love you, but no way am I going to ruin my new manicure by helping you move that freaking dresser.”

“I haven’t really asked,” I say, keeping my back to her so she can’t read my expression. “But, yeah, I’m pretty sure Ben will help Lance load up the truck tomorrow.”

I’m not sure of this at all.

It’s not that Ben and I aren’t talking. We are. We’ve been perfectly civil. We
have
to be, because until noonish tomorrow, we’re living together. And we still carpool to work together.

But in the two weeks since I told him that I was moving in with Lance, we haven’t really connected. Not mentally. Not emotionally. Definitely not physically.

Neither of us will admit that anything is wrong. But something
is
wrong, and I’m dying inside.

“Okay, hey, I need to talk to you about something,” Lori says, oh-so-carefully setting a pair of ancient flip-flops in the box like they’re Louboutins before plopping down on my bed.

“Sure,” I say, grateful for the change of topic. Anything to stop thinking about Ben.

“It’s about Ben,” she says.

Or not.

“Okay…” I say.

I have the sudden premonition that I’ll want to sit down for this, only to realize that I’m
already
sitting cross-legged on the floor. Crap. Maybe I should be holding on to something.

“I’m going to ask him out. Ben. I’m going to ask out Ben,” she says.

Her voice is calm, matter-of-fact, and very, very clear, and yet it takes what feels like several minutes for her words to register in my brain.

“Lori—”

“No, I know what you’re going to say,” she interrupts. “That he’s a womanizing turd, and he’s going to break my heart because he doesn’t do relationships. But I
like
him, Parker. Enough that I want to risk it.”

“But—”

Lori’s smile is kind but firm. “Sweetie, with all due respect here, it’s not really up to you. I’m going to ask him to dinner. If he wants to say no, he can, but you don’t get to say it for him.”

I blink. She’s right, of course. I don’t get to decide with whom Ben goes on a date, but it’s just…it’s just…

Lori is studying me closer. “You’re okay with this, right? Because you’re sort of giving off this vibe like I’m breaking some sort of girl code or something—”

“No! I mean…of course I’m fine with it. It’ll be a little weird when—
if
—things don’t work out between you, but worst case I’ll just hang out with the two of you separately if that happens.”

She breathes a sigh of relief. “I’m glad. I mean, I know that you try to keep your girlfriends away from him, and I can’t even blame you, it’s just…I think about him all the time. And sometimes when we make eye contact I feel a little…something, you know?”

“Sure!”

My voice is too high, too hyper, but Lori doesn’t seem to notice.

Even though I don’t think Ben’s going to be dating anyone—even someone as great as Lori—I can’t stop the montage of hideous images from going through my head.

Lori and Ben holding hands. Kissing. The four of us on double dates.

Ugh.

Lori looks at her phone. “Oh, crap, how is it two already? My yoga class starts in twenty minutes. You cool if I ditch you? I can come back over later.”

I shake my head. “Don’t even worry about it. I’m mostly done. It’s just throwing the rest of the stuff in boxes. Plus, it’s not like I’m moving across the country. If I have to make a couple trips back here over the coming week to pick stuff up, I will.”

“So Ben hasn’t found another roommate yet?”

I shake my head. “Not yet, but I think his friend John is a likely candidate. His lease is up in a month and he’s been looking for a cheaper option.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m proud of you,” Lori says, pulling her bag over her shoulder. “Adorable as you and Ben are, you can’t do the
Will and Grace
thing forever, you know?”

I smile faintly. “If you’re hoping to coax Ben into a relationship, you’re probably not going to do it by comparing him to an iconic gay character. He likes the opposite sex too much.”

She waves this away. “You know what I mean, though. It’s good that you end it before you wind up codependent and sabotaging your other relationships. This is a smart move.”

I nod unenthusiastically. I’d been hearing that sentiment a lot lately. Casey, my mom, Lori, Lance…even my
dad
. Everyone seems in agreement that it’s time for me and Ben to “get on with our lives.”

Everyone seems thrilled by this new development, my moving in with Lance.

Everyone except me and Ben.

Lori leaves for yoga, and it’s just me and my depressed thoughts.

I should be excited.

The whole point of this move is a fresh start for me and Lance. A chance to commit to someone who loves me, and who wants me for more than booty calls and the occasional trip to IKEA.

So why do I feel like I’m in mourning?

There’s a not-so-soft knock at the door, and it opens even before I respond.

It’s Ben. “Hey.”

“Hey!” I say back. “Come on in!”

But, of course, he’s already inside, flopping down on my bed. “Thought I’d see if you need any help.”

I lift an eyebrow, and he looks sheepish. “I know. The offer’s a little late. It’s just…moving sucks, you know?”

It’s a cop-out, and we both know it, but since I haven’t exactly been myself lately, either, I let it go. I’m just glad that he’s here, and that things seem…well, not quite normal, but at least we’re talking.

“So what can I do?” he asks.

I point at the closet. “Finish packing my shoes? Lori started a box, but I swear it took her five minutes to place each pair
just
right—”

I watch as Ben scoops up an armful of shoes and dumps them unceremoniously into a box.

“I see that’s not going to be a problem with you,” I say dryly.

He grins, then repeats the motion. “How many shoes do you have, woman?”

“The fact that you added
woman
to the end of that sentence tells you all you need to know. A lot.”

“I hope Lance is prepared to clear out eighty percent of his closet,” Ben says, holding up a pink wedge and looking at it skeptically before throwing—yes, throwing—it into the box as well.

It’s the first time since I told him that I was moving in with Lance that Ben’s even mentioned my boyfriend’s name.

And yes, Lance is my boyfriend again. Not that we’ve, um, consummated that status, but I’m moving in with the guy. Of course he’s my boyfriend.

Still, I’d avoided having Lance come by the house as much as possible. The thought of seeing him and Ben in the same room is just too much.

“So, how happy are you to have a bathroom all to yourself?” I ask, my voice determinedly chipper. “All that hot water. Oh, and you’ll have complete control of the remote. And your beer won’t have to share the fridge with my champagne. And there won’t be any long dark hair clogging the shower drain, and—”

To my utter horror, my voice breaks then, and I realize that I can’t even see the necklaces I’ve been trying to untangle for the past two minutes because my eyes are so filled with tears.

“Hey, now,” Ben says, his voice panicked as he scoots my way and sinks to the floor next to me, popping a bunch of Bubble Wrap in the process. “What’s this?”

His finger catches a tear, and that makes me cry all the harder.

“I don’t know,” I say, my voice all hiccupy. “I just…I think…I don’t…”

He gently presses the backs of his fingers against my cheek. “I’ll miss you too, Parks.”

I look at him through my blurry vision. “I bought you some new bath towels. Lots of them. And I washed them all and put them under the sink in the bathroom so you’ll have a long supply of fresh ones. And I’ll call you every day to remind you not to—”

He puts a hand over my mouth. “Parker. Get it together, babe. You’re moving about five minutes away. It’s not like we’re never going to see each other again.”

“I know.” I wipe my runny nose with the back of my hand. “But it’ll be different. Won’t it?”

Ben has his knees pulled to his chest, his arms looped around his legs, and he looks down at his hands. “Yeah. It’ll be different.”

It’s not what I want him to say, and I cry harder before launching myself at him awkwardly, my arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

He tenses for a second, but then one arm goes around my back, the other into my hair. “You and your crying.”

“I know,” I whisper against his neck. “I’m a wreck.”

Being held by him feels right, and for the millionth time since I agreed to move in with Lance, I wonder if I’m doing the right thing.

I pull back so I can look into his eyes, and our faces are just inches apart. It’s weird to think that just a couple weeks ago, that would have put us in kissing position—a position we both would have taken advantage of.

It’s even weirder that I still want to.

Oh God.
I absolutely, positively cannot still want Ben.

For starters. Lance.

Also…

Okay, I can’t think of another reason.

“Lori’s going to ask you out,” I blurt, desperate for something to derail the scary direction of my thoughts.

His eyebrows lift, although I don’t know if it’s from the sudden change of topic or the news itself. “Yeah?”

I nod. “I tried to warn her, but…she’s determined.”

His brow wrinkles. “What do you mean,
warn her
?”

“Prepare her,” I amend. “For when you say no.”

Ben is studying me, his face unreadable. “What makes you think I’d say no?”

“Well, I mean…she’s not asking you for a hookup,” I say, forcing a smile and batting his knee. “I’ve been telling you all along that Lori’s looking for a relationship. A real one.”

“Okay…” His tone indicates that he still doesn’t get it.

“She wants a boyfriend,” I say slowly, spelling it out for him.

I wait for it all to click into place so that he can assure me that no, he has absolutely zero intention of saying yes to Lori or any girl.

That he’ll continue to be his charming, one-night-stand-ish self.

Because while I don’t exactly relish the thought of him going back to sleeping with his bimbos, it’s a hell of a lot easier to picture that than him
caring
about someone else….

But Ben says none of those things. Instead he shrugs. “I like Lori.”

My mouth drops open. “You’re not
actually
thinking of saying yes.”

His laugh is short and a little harsh. “Well, I mean, it’s not like she’s proposing. So, yeah, if she asked me out, I’d say yes.”

“But—”

“I don’t want to be single forever, Parker.”

His voice is a little sharp, and mine is just as edgy when I snap back.

“Since when?”

I see his jaw clench in irritation, but I press on. “I mean, when have you
ever
given any indication that you wanted a girlfriend?”

“I don’t know, but damn. I’m allowed to change my mind, right? I mean, I’m not saying I’m going to go rushing into anything or doing ring shopping on weekends, but that doesn’t mean I’m not open to dating if the right girl comes along.”

My throat stings. I don’t understand why, but this little announcement of his both surprises and wounds me.

Ben’s been waiting for the right girl?

I’d always assumed that he was just determinedly single. To think that he actually
wants
to be someone’s boyfriend—

It rocks the very foundation of who I thought he was.

Of who I thought
we
were.

It doesn’t make sense. Nothing makes sense anymore.

“You’re really going to date Lori?” I try to keep the bitchy note out of my tone, but fail miserably.

“What the hell is with this double standard?” he asks, pushing to his feet, his expression full-on angry now.

“What double standard?” I get to my feet as well so we’re facing off.

“The one where you get to have the boyfriend and the best friend, but I’m only allowed to have
you
?”

“No!” I say. “That’s not what that is, I just thought—”

He crosses his arms. “What? What did you think?”

I wince at his icy tone, but I can’t respond, because the answer that’s on the tip of my tongue will destroy us.

Because the crazy thought that keeps going through my head is that I can’t fathom the fact that Ben’s been waiting for the right girl…

Because it means that
I’m not her.

All this time, I’ve never let myself think of Ben as boyfriend material, because I thought that he didn’t want that.

But that isn’t it at all.

He just doesn’t want
me.

Which is fine. I don’t want him, either. I mean, we’re just friends who—