Friend Is a Four Letter Word (13 page)

“I know, I want to,” he says. He rubs a hand on the back of his neck. “But I’ve got to get back. We can come back another time. I promise.”

“Carter,” I say, rolling over to face him. “Is something wrong?”

He picks up my wrist and kisses the pulse point. “The only thing that’s wrong is that you’re about to put clothes on and that—that definitely feels wrong.”

He traces a line down my chest, between my breasts and down my stomach. I curl against his warm body, burying my face. “I don’t have to. We can stay.” I can feel him hard against my hip.

“I want to, good God I want to, but I’ve got a couple of things to do. We need to get on the road.”

I lock eyes and smile at him, just as I slip my hand under the blanket and decide to see just how quickly we have to get on the road.

“I’ve got a couple of things to do, too.” I say.

I was only successful in stalling Carter. We left an hour later than he wanted, but we still left. I try not to pout that we didn’t get to surf or enjoy each other more, but Carter seemed determined to get home for some reason.

“I’m going to get the bags in,” Carter says as well pull up the apartment building. He quickly checks his watch. “Then I’m going to head out.”

“Okay,” I say. I shove my hands in between my knees. I don’t know what to say, or to feel right now. Last night—last night was all new for me. I opened up in ways I never thought possible, I had sex with this gorgeous man, then fell asleep in his arms with the waves crashing and the fire dwindling. How much more perfect could an evening get? Except it must not have been that perfect. Something must have gone wrong, I must have said something—done something because since the moment I opened my eyes this morning, things have felt like they’re moving in reverse.

I want to ask him where he’s going, but I don’t feel like I have the right to if he isn’t volunteering anything. Maybe I pushed too hard last night. He sure seemed willing, though. More than willing. He did things to me—made me feeling things that I never thought came from sex.

“I’ll be home in time to grab something for dinner if you want,” he says. He rounds the car and then opens my door for me. “And this’ll give you a chance to relax, take a shower, whatever. I know that sand is killer.”

“Right. Great.” I nod and pretend everything is fine even though I’m seething with anger and embarrassment. The entire reason I came out here was to figure out who I really am. To stop pretending to be something I’m not. I wanted to stop keeping my misery and emotions draped around me like a security blanket. Carter clutches our bags and I follow him up the staircase to his apartment. Even though I slept with him last night, even though I was closer to him than I’ve ever been to anyone else and woke up with his nose nuzzled in my tangled hair, it still feels strange to follow him into his house—where I belong even less than my parents place.

Carter pushes the door open and goes straight to the bedroom to set the bags. When he comes back, I’m still hovering awkwardly in the open doorway, twisting my fingers and avoiding eye contact even though I can feel him staring at me.

“Shayna,” he says my name like it’s a command. His voice is deep and throaty. An hour ago, my name spoken from those lips in that way would have been irresistible. Right now though, I need to do what’s right for me, and find out what the hell is going on.

“Are you going to come inside?” he asks.

I stay firmly planted, half-in, half-out of Carter’s apartment. “Depends. Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” he tugs his shirt over his head revealing those delicious abs I’d love to touch again. I shake my head to clear those thoughts and he pulls a clean shirt on, thankfully. “I put the bags in the bedroom. It’s yours, by the way. I’ll take the couch while you stay here.”

“The couch.” I repeat. “So last night…”

Friends
. He said it before and I chose to ignore the fact that actually may have meant it.

“Last night was…” he runs his hand through his hair and blows out a low breath. “Last night was incredible, doll. Help yourself to anything. Take a nap. Whatever you want to do. I’ll be back soon.”

He grabs his keys from the dish on the counter and walks toward the door. Toward me.

“Are you… are you seeing someone?” I ask. I have to know. I’ve been the other woman before, it’s never bothered me for a second, but this is the new Shayna. I need to know.

Carter shakes his head and laughs a little. “What do you think, Shayna?”

I purse my lips. “I think that’s not a real answer.”

“We’ll talk when I get home. I really have to go.”

He kisses me on the cheek and slips out the door behind me. I have no other choice but to go inside. Where the hell else am I going to go?

I shower, change and make myself some lunch, all the while trying to figure out when a good time to slip out and start the long drive home will be. Before Quinn comes back to town? Like I was never even here? Before Carter even comes back from wherever he is? Do I wait around to say goodbye to him: thanks for the best sex of my life, but I’ll be going now?

I take another small bite of my turkey sandwich and ponder my next move. If I go back, how pissed are Mom and Dad going to be that I put them through all of this, to just turn right back around because a guy made me sad? To go home having learned nothing, having gained nothing. If I go home, do I tell them the truth about everything? How I’ve been living a lie? How I know I’m not really theirs?

“Carter? Knock-knock!” Quinn’s voice calls as the front door slowly opens.

“Quinn?” I yell back, dropping the sandwich back onto my plate and rushing for the door. She flings it the rest of the way open and stares at me, trying to make sense of what she’s seeing.

“Hey Shayna,” Ben says casually from behind her. His arms are loaded down with bags, but he still has one hand on her tiny waist, like he’s her lifeline. And maybe he is.

“Shayna, what the hell?” Quinn yelps.

I do something completely uncharacteristic for either one of us and pull her into a tight hug.

“Your hair is wet. Did you just shower? Wait—”

“I did. I came to visit with you and you guys weren’t around. So Carter let me crash here until you got back.” I nervously kick at the carpet, trying to explain everything as quickly as possible with as few details as possible. “I’m sorry to show up without calling, it was just a spur of the moment idea and then you guys were gone and—”

“We were up north! Where is Carter?” Quinn peeks around me.

“You know, I’m not really sure, we haven’t talked much,” I lie.

“Quinn, I’m going to go put this stuff up,” Ben says. “Good to see you, Shayna.”

“We’re coming,” Quinn says. “You want to come over to our place, Shay?”

“You guys just got home, I don’t want to intrude.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Quinn says. I suddenly feel more at home than I have all day now that I have Quinn’s sharp tongue around. “Come on, it’s just down the hall.”

“Should I—do you think I should leave Carter a note or something?”

Quinn waves at me. “Nah, he’ll figure it out. He’s a smart one.”

No, he’s a complete and total dumb ass, I want to say.

Ben opens the door to their apartment and I easily remember my shock at the modern starkness of Carter’s apartment in comparison to what imagined Quinn and Ben’s place to look like. And it is exactly as I imagined.

A living room lined with shelves that hold photos of the two of them, knick-knacks, and cook books. Large framed pieces of Ben’s work. Brightly colored, almost sensual. They’re beautiful and warm. I wish my life felt like one of these photographs.

“Can I get you anything, Quinn? Shayna?” Ben asks as he pulls the refrigerator door open and grabs a bottle of water.

“No, baby, I’m good. You, Shayna?”

“I’m fine, thanks.” I say.

“Alright then. I’m gonna go see if I can catch what little daylight is left over by the water,” Ben says. He slings his camera over his shoulder and spins the bottle of water in his large palm. The dude is huge. And hot. If Quinn didn’t somehow snag him back in high school, he would have had his pick of anyone—including me back then. I had my eye on him from the second he stepped foot on our shitty high schools’ campus. Tall, with dark hair and eyes and the kindest smile I’d ever seen on a guy. But I wasn’t into nice guys back then—not long term, and Ben, he wasn’t into casual. So he ended up with Quinn even if she tried to rip his heart out and stomp on it a few times for good measure. They’re here and they’re happy. It works, and I’m crazy happy
for
them.

Quinn rolls his eyes where he can’t see. “Him and that camera,” she mouths, cracking the smallest smile so I know she’s not completely annoyed.

“Hey, I didn’t even bring it with me up north, that trip was all about you.” Ben says. “See ya.” He leans down and kisses Quinn deeply, like he couldn’t give a shit less that I’m sitting four feet away from her. “Later, Shayna. Let me know if you girls want me to bring home anything for dinner.”

“Love you,” Quinn calls.

“You too, baby,” he says before he closes the door.

Quinn smacks my arm . “Alright, what the hell are you doing here?”

“I thought you said it was fine,” I say.

“Of course it is, but showing up without calling? That’s not like you. What about school? What about your parents?”

“It’s a really long story. But it’s all fine, I promise. I really just wanted to visit.”

“Okay,” Quinn says. She rubs her finger over her slick, polish nail. She’s not buying it. She once was the queen of telling people what they wanted to hear, maybe she still is, so she lets it slide. “Are you hungry?”

I shake my head. I’m tired. I want to go back to that moment before I opened my eyes this morning when I still felt Carter’s strong arm wrapped around me. When I didn’t regret pouring my heart out to a guy I don’t really know all that well, but sort of wished I did.

“Where’d you guys go?” I ask.

Quinn grins and folds her hands in her lap. “Okay, so I got this invite to help host an underground culinary event.”

“Underground? Like, literally?”

“No, spaz. It’s just a secret. You have to get a special invitation. You get a secret address and all of that. Very exclusive. Very cool. I was able to help meal plan and cook with Chef Robert Grider,” she says. “He’s this hugely talented chef that is totally up and coming. I learned so much about pairings and techniques. It was…
amazing
.”

“That sounds fantastic. Good for you.”

“And you? How long are you in town for?”

“I’m not sure,” I say.

“What about school. It’s started already, right?”

I nod.

“Okay, so, what am I missing?” Quinn asks.

I pull my hands up inside my sweater. “I just needed a break. You know how that goes.”

Quinn nods. “I do. But you—this isn’t like you.”

I appreciate her concern, I really do. But I feel like I’m in the backseat of a car, struggling with the clasp on my shoe right now. “I think I’m going to go outside. Get some air.”

I stand up and start toward the door.

“Shayna,” Quinn says, getting up from the couch and following me. “You are one-hundred-percent welcome to stay with us for as long as you want. I mean it.”

I half think about pulling Quinn in for another awkward hug when there’s a knock on the door. Fast and hard. Again and again.

Quinn brushes past me and pulls the door open. “Carter, hey.”

“Hey, Quinnlette, I didn’t know you were home. I was looking for—”

“Here I am,” I say. I give a quick, half-hearted wave.

“Super good to see you, too, bro,” Quinn says. She playfully crinkles her nose at her brother and he sneers back at her.

“You eat? I can make something.”

“I’m fine,” he says, without looking at his sister. He zeroes in on me instead. “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You just left—I saw your food on the counter—no note—”

“Jesus, Carter, she was just down the hall,” Quinn says. She takes a bite off a carrot stick and eyes her brother and me.