Never Just Friends (Spotlight New Adult Book 2) (3 page)

She stayed quiet, mostly, as Krup welcomed Jake to the fold. They started talking about the conference in Hong Kong the following week, and what they expected him to do. But they’d had VIP speakers before and it shouldn’t be any trouble. He’d likely only be asked for a speech on opening day. Then he’d get to tour and hang out and do whatever he wanted, while she slaved over two presentations and three panels.

“I’ll help with the remarks,” Lindsay said, when it was appropriate.

“Like old times,” Jake said, familiar but not too informal.

“That’s settled then.” Lucien nodded to them and was first to offer his hand to Jake. It meant the meeting was over. “It’s good to have you on board, Jacob. We’ll see you at the office tomorrow. Lindsay, you probably would like to catch up with your friend. Don’t forget to be back at 44th for the two p.m.”

“All right,” she said.

“That went well,” Jake observed, watching them leave.

Lindsay had only a vague idea of how it
went
, to be honest. She was still stuck on the other thing.

“I’m still seeing someone,” she told him, as soon as she knew none of her colleagues could hear.

“Still that guy Victor? Did it become more serious?”

Lindsay fell back against the seat. “No.”

He leaned back as well, bringing them shoulder to shoulder, watching people walk by them. “Lindsay.”

“Yes?”

“It’s okay to think about it.”

“Of course I should think about it. You ambushed me with it, you jackass.”

“But you’ve thought about it, haven’t you? You and me. I know you have.”

She did, and didn’t. Whenever she did think about it, about loving Jake, the forever kind, it was always with a wonder reserved for unicorns and flying houses. It was all right to
think
about it, what was the harm, but believing it was something else. A cause for concern.

They didn’t lie to each other, though. Ultimately, it wasn’t good to be in the habit of lying to the person who could help you survive the zombie apocalypse. “I have,” she said.

“Did someone talk you out of it?”

“No,
I
talked myself out of it. Because—”

“Stop, stop. It doesn’t matter why. I prepared for this. I knew you could say no right away, because maybe you’ve found me disgusting all along.”

God, you are arrogant.
He liked to say that, tease her about not finding him attractive, when he could pull out a model’s signature look in a heartbeat.

“But you’re not saying no.” Another typically arrogant move, typically Jake—he slid his hand down her arm, and laced their fingers together. “You’ll think about it, right? For us?”

Us.
It wasn’t as foreign. Almost four years since that day on Tram Street. She knew what she had been to him, while he was in Fremont, when he was in Canada, while she was in New York. But she honestly thought a “thank you” was going to be the end game to this friendship, and she would have been happy with it.
This
was not expected.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at work,” she said.

“Tonight?”

“I have a date with Victor tonight.”

Jake lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it. “Think about me when you’re with him.”

Usually the two p.m. meeting with Lucien involved everybody. Him; deputy Kelly; senior consultant Krup; junior consultants Lindsay, Tanza, and Christian; project staff manager Chen; assistant Marnie. Caine Foundation was a small team, at least in Manhattan. The NY team focused on getting funding, and starting projects that addressed each of their specific environment tracks. The major work and staffing would be done in the country where the project was based. What separated the junior from the senior consultants wasn’t age or experience, but an extra diploma. Christian, for example, was twenty years older than Lindsay but remained technically a junior consultant because he didn’t pursue a degree beyond his bachelor’s. Getting her own master’s in environmental economics was something Lindsay was figuring out how to make time for; the irony was that to do well as a
junior
consultant, all time had to be devoted to being one. 

That day everyone else at Caine’s Team NY were somewhere else, and Lindsay was sitting on the large sofa in Lucien’s office by herself at the appointed time.

He said he’d get to her in a second, and typed something, then hit the last key with force. Then he swung his seat to face her.

“Lindsay, you’re friends with Mr. Berkeley,” he said. “You’ve known him a long time.”

She nodded. “Yes. Well, four years? Depends on what ‘long’ is to you.”

“You know him best of anyone here. But you didn’t nominate him for this.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Any particular reason why?”

Because awkward.
“Nothing to do with his commitment to the cause or speaking skills. I didn’t know he was interested.”

Lucien picked up a thick printout of a report and thumbed through it. “He’s signed the contract so there’s nothing else I can do about it. It’s not that I don’t want him around. But we’ve got too many projects up for renewal right now.”

Including her project, the one that was essentially covering her salary. As a consultant she was working for the foundation only because of a grant, and this particular conference was important because it was time to prove that the project, and Lindsay herself, was money well-spent. It was nice to think that working to help make the planet more livable was a cause that didn’t need to be justified, but the world did not yet work that way. 

“I understand,” she said.

“So, I need you to keep an eye on your friend.”

Lindsay shifted in her seat. “I’ll help write his speech.”

“Not only that, Lindsay. I originally wanted someone else to open the conference, someone who could sit in with our donor meetings and be a fresh face, say the things we’ve been saying but in a voice they’re not tired of. I agreed to offer the post to Mr. Berkeley because he apparently was willing to do this.”

He was? Lindsay felt a line form on her forehead. “All right then.”

“I need him ready to participate, Lindsay. He can’t simply read the speech and enjoy his free trip to Asia.”

He has to work.
“I’m assuming that my workload will remain the same?”

Lucien smiled. He wasn’t an intimidating person, really. He looked like a dad (was a dad), somewhat round in the middle, hair the color of roasted chestnuts, touched up every month. However he was sharp, and words mattered to him. Saying the wrong thing at the wrong time was how one got on, and saw, his bad side.

Lobbying for projects to be extended or replenished, with so much on the line. This was a sensitive time for her place of work.

Jake, your timing is...I don’t even know.

“Yes you still need to do everything on your list,” he said. “With this on top.”

“And you’re not getting Krup to shadow him? Even though he brought Jake on?”

Lucien gave her one of his looks, the one that formed on his face whenever he was carefully choosing his words. “Lindsay, I need you to babysit your friend. I don’t think Krup can do that as well.”

Great. Jake was trying to prove something to himself, or the world, and she got double the work because of it.

“I’ll do it,” she said. Because who else would?

Technically, she was
seeing
Victor, but he was not her boyfriend.

When they met and hooked up for the first time two years ago, he was fine with not being her boyfriend. He had encouraged it. He was twenty-one at the time and wasn’t looking for a relationship. They met every few weeks or so and slept together.

When Jake found out about it (she shared it with him of course), he congratulated her on finding the person she’d proudly engage in casual sex with. Did it matter that it wasn’t as anonymous as a drunken screw at a party? Victor and Lindsay
dated
. They had dinner. Maybe saw a movie or a show. Then they had sex. Never intoxicated, and the condom never slipped off. He was excellent at the sex.

Then she didn’t see him again for another five or six weeks. He saw other people.

Sometimes she did too. But he was excellent enough (at the sex) that she got her fix, mostly, and didn’t even think about it until the next time he called.

That this had gone on for two years felt like it should mean something, but Lindsay never bumped him up from the casual bracket. Also, the dynamic of the arrangement was changing; had been since two or three dates ago. Victor had been showing up for dinner, or a movie, or a show, but they wouldn’t sleep together. They’d make out like teenagers, sure, and he’d get her off, but then he’d say it was time to go.

“I think we should take a break from seeing each other, Linds,” Victor was saying.

“You think so?”
Of course.
“Are you seeing someone you like?”

Victor was very handsome. He had the wavy hair and energetic step she associated with outdoorsy people, except the city was his hiking trail. He worked in development too, like she did, but started out as an intern for road projects at another agency. They met during one of those cocktails, set up by friends of friends. By now he had a real job too, not that she knew much about it.

They didn’t talk much about the lives they didn’t let each other into.

“Yeah,” he said. “This one just might work out. For now at least.”

“Been thinking about it a couple of months?”

He nodded. Right when they’d stopped having sex. Made sense. This wasn’t even dinner, what they were having right then. He was holding a sandwich and she was forking a plastic bowl of fruit, on a bench a few blocks down from their buildings.

“Jake is in town,” Lindsay said, in the interest of sharing something similar. And also, so he wouldn’t think she was feeling devastated about his news. He knew about Jake too.

Victor smirked, she could swear that she saw it. There was nothing in their relationship to argue about, but he did bristle whenever Jake was mentioned. She appreciated how he tolerated it, because she talked about Jake
more
when they were out of touch the past year. “You’re not happy about that?” he asked.

“I am. I’m not used to it, that’s all.”

They ate their respective food items for a bit. Lindsay was trying to chew on both a sweet strawberry, and what this conversation was supposed to mean. How it was supposed to make her feel. Was it rejection? It didn’t feel like it.

“Can I ask you…?” she began.

“What changed?”

“Yeah.”

He knew what to say. “It didn’t feel like I was just scratching an itch.”

They called it that, before. What they did together.
Scratching an itch.
Comfortably agreeing to provide release for each other, rather than go out and play the game with strangers every time.

Victor continued, “I wanted her to be everywhere with me. Bring her places. Plan things, and know she’ll be there, because I’m not checking calendars for mutually convenient times, you know?”

“Because you know she’s yours,” Lindsay said. “So to speak.”

“Not that I never thought that about you,” Victor, still gentlemanly, was quick to add. “Because I did. I knew it was a lost cause though.”

“Please, don’t.”

“Speaking of itches that have to be scratched. You knew it was going to happen one day.
I
knew it was going to happen.”

Lindsay brought a palm to her mouth and groaned on it. “I don’t want to.”

He nudged her, playfully. “That’s impossible. I know for a fact how much you enjoy it.”

“It’s not
that
.”

“He’s bad at sex?”

She laughed. “I have reason to think he’s very good at it.”

“Look, I was fine with this when it was me. But the next guy might not be so...accommodating. It’s very clear that you want to be with someone else. It does wear on the confidence after a while.”

Lindsay sighed, long and from the depths of her. “Did it feel like that to you? Because you’re...you’re good. I didn’t wish you were someone else.”

“Thanks. I guess I knew that, but thanks for saying it.”

“Does she know about me?”

He looked down when he smiled. “She does not. I would appreciate if she doesn’t find out how your timelines overlapped.”

“Of course,” Lindsay said. “I’m happy for you, Victor.”

Happy for him, but she just lost her main reason for holding out.

This trip to New York was part of a war, a personal one, that he was waging on several fronts. Lindsay’s decision he couldn’t control. He had come on strong with that, and hopefully convinced her, but all he could do on that was wait.