Not the Friend with Benefits: A BBW New Adult Serial Romance (Not the Hot Chick series Book 3) (4 page)

Dummy, what's wrong with you? He screwed Jessi. Screwed you over. And you're letting him wash up in your bathroom?

Yeah. It was stupid. But the world had tilted and she needed time. Time to get back in her body. Time to connect to her feelings.

While he was in the bathroom, Layla listened to the water running in the faucet, the medicine cabinet opening and closing. Waited for the numbness to leave.

Drew returned and slumped into the armchair. The scratch on his face was now free of blood. He hadn't bothered with a bandage.

He folded his hands on his knees, stared down at the floor. "She knocked on the door a few minutes after I got here."

Layla swallowed. The boulder in her throat had descended to sit heavily on her chest.

"I was surprised," he went on. "But she said she was here to see you. She felt bad the two of you hadn't had much time to catch up this morning. I told her you weren't home and I wasn't sure when to expect you."

"Uh-huh." The numbness was wearing off and she was sorry, because she knew the pinprick of pain she now felt would only grow larger and larger. "Did you ask her in?"

"Well, yeah." He sounded a bit annoyed, as though he didn't understand why she asked the question. "I mean, I figured you'd get back soon enough. Seemed stupid to ask her to come back later."

And you wanted to spend time with her,
Layla thought.
A pretty girl like Jessi. A hot chick.

After all, what red-blooded heterosexual male wouldn't?

"When I let her in, I never dreamed we'd—"

"Hook up?" Layla asked brightly, snidely. "Screw? Fuck?" The circle of pain was expanding, just as she knew it would.

He winced at her choice of words. "It wasn't planned, believe me."

Oh, but it was. Jessi planned it the moment she saw us together. That's how much she hates me.
Not because she cared about Cam, but just because she couldn't stand the thought of "losing" anything to Layla.

"It just happened," she said, providing the ever-ready excuse all cheaters used.

He didn't pick up on the irony. "Yeah."

Just a few minutes ago, she'd been so happy, imagining being with Drew. Thinking they had a future together. But now it was all spoiled. Spoiled before it even started.

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

She believed him. His flushed face, his red-rimmed eyes, reflected the misery he felt.

She could even understand, in a way. An incredibly sexy woman had thrown herself at him, and he didn't have the strength to resist. Oh, he could have said no. Jessi wasn't a Circe who could bewitch a man into acting against his will.

But he must have been awed by the fact that she wanted him. Must have wondered if he'd ever have a chance like that again. Wondered if he'd be haunted by regret the rest of his life if he turned her down.

After all, hadn't she, Layla, felt that way about Cam?

But there was a difference. She hadn't been seeing anyone when they hooked up. If there had been someone in her life, she'd have resisted Cam, no matter what. No matter how much she was tempted, she would not have cheated.

She'd believed she and Drew were so much alike. That they were perfectly in synch. She couldn't have been more wrong.

"Okay," she heard herself say.

His mouth fell open. "What?"

"You said you're sorry. I said okay."

His eyes lit with hope. "You mean—"

"I mean I heard you. Now go."

"Go?" His jaw clenched stubbornly and a look of resentment wrinkled his brow. "That's it? What about you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not the only bad actor here. What about you and that bartender?"

"Cam and I are
friends
." She spat the last word at him. "That's it."

"Jessi said—"

"Jessi hates me. She just wanted to cause trouble."

Drew's eyes went wide with confusion, then narrowed in suspicion. "You mean you're not sleeping with him?"

"No. If I was, I wouldn't be with you."

"But you did hook up. Before."

Layla got to her feet. "That's none of your business."

His mouth flattened, then curled into a
gotcha
grin. "So you did."

Like a dam bursting, her numbness collapsed and she welcomed the swell of anger that spilled over. "What I
didn't
do is fuck some rando in your apartment! In your own fucking bed! You hear me? Now get your shit and get the hell out of my place!" She glared at his bare feet. "Your shoes. Where are they?"

He gestured to the bedroom. "In there."

Of course. She sucked her breath between her teeth in a hiss and stalked to the bedroom. Her bed had been remade, and its innocent appearance mocked her. She clenched her jaw, seething. Tears burned her eyes. That fucking Jessi had touched Grandma Messner's beautiful handmade quilt, and for that reason alone Layla would have gladly knocked the bitch out. She tore the quilt and sheets off the bed and threw them to the floor.

Drew's cross trainers lay near the wall, where he must have kicked them in his hurry to undress. A fiery sensation rose up Layla's chest into her throat. She grabbed the shoes, marched to the living room, and lobbed one, then the other at Drew. He caught the first before it thunked him on the head. The other landed behind him in the hall.

When he turned to bend and pick it up, she was mightily tempted to kick the target he presented.

She shut the door quickly, before temptation got the best of her. Shutting out any hopes of a future with Drew.

And that's how it ends, with the click of a latch.

She sank to the sofa, trying to hold on to the anger. She needed it to sustain her, fire her up, energize her. But slowly it ebbed away, leaving behind a hopeless emptiness.

****

How long have I been sitting here?

Layla glanced at the window, but it was no darker outside than it had been. She checked the time on her phone.

She hadn't spent hours zoned out, as she'd feared. No, just fifteen or twenty minutes.

She let go a sigh and thought of the wad of bedclothes lying on her bedroom floor. She should get up, carry them down to the Dumpster, but she couldn't summon the energy to move.

If only there was someone to talk to…

She picked up the phone, texted her roommate Kelsey.

Hi. Can u talk?

Kelsey was never far from her phone, would probably have had it surgically implanted to her hand if such a thing were possible. Layla didn't have to wait long for a response.

On the way to a movie with my bae. Whats up?

Kels had met a new guy and was spending every weekend at his place. At least
she
was having a good time. Guilt stabbed Layla. Why cry on her friend's shoulder and spoil her day?
Why should we both feel like crap?

She typed:
Nothing. Just checking in
.

Cool. All good with u?

Layla answered with a smiley emoji.

See u 2 morrow night
, Kelsey texted back.

See u
.

She laid the phone on her lap. She should get up and go to a movie herself. Go out for a walk. Something. Anything.

She gazed down at the phone's screen, then brought her index finger to hover over the Contacts icon.

No
, her little voice warned.
Don't do it. Don't drag him into this.

Even though she knew the voice was right, Layla tapped out one word on the keyboard and hit Send.

Hey.

She couldn't have waited more than thirty seconds for a response, but it felt like an eternity.

Hey.
Cam texted back.
What's shakin?

Nothing much.

Thot u and Romeo would be 2 busy to come up for air. You 2 done already?

Layla snorted in bitter humor.
Done is right. Done for good.

His reply took a bit longer, as though he found her response difficult to decipher.

What do you mean?

Now she hesitated, wondering how to explain it.
We broke up.

That was plain enough. But had they ever really been together?

What happened? He stunk in bed?

That made her laugh, a real laugh. It was a welcome moment's respite from humiliation. Gratitude washed over her. Gratitude for Cam's friendship and his totally inappropriate sense of humor.
We never got that far. Came home to find him and Jessi together.
She paused and typed
TOGETHER
all in caps,
so there would be no misunderstanding.

Again she waited for his reply.

Holy shit! Jessi the bitch?

Layla smirked.
Yep.

That blows. I'm sorry. Really sorry.

Thanks.

There was no answering text. Was that it, then?

A moment later her phone rang. Cam.

"Hi," she answered.

"Are you all right?"

She felt better just hearing his voice. "I guess. I don't know." God, she was a flake.
Come on, pull up your big girl panties.
"Yeah, I'm okay."

"No. You're not," he said after a pause. "I'm coming over."

Yes, please,
she wanted to say. But then she'd be that needy, whiny chick. "I'm all right, really. Anyway, don't you have to work?"

"I'll figure something out. You just hang tight. I'll be over soon."

He ended the call before she could say more.

****

He showed up at her door forty minutes later, bearing a pizza box. "I brought a pie. Did you eat lunch?"

What time was it? She wasn't sure where she'd left her phone. "Uh, no. Not hungry." But the appetizing aroma of tomato sauce and spices put the lie to that answer, as did the audible rumbling of her stomach.

"Uh-huh." He slipped past her and set the box on the coffee table. Flipped it open and grabbed a slice, which he handed to her. "Here. Pepperoni and mushroom."

She snagged it and took a greedy bite, suddenly ravenous. A blob of sauce landed on her shirt. So what?

Cam grinned. "Slow down, slugger. You got napkins? Paper towels or something?"

"Kitchen," she mumbled through a mouthful of pizza.

He left and came back with a handful of paper towels. She took one and wiped her mouth, then dabbed at the spot on her shirt as she wolfed down her slice.

With a raised eyebrow, Cam took a slice for himself and sat. "What have you been up to?" He indicated her rolled-up sleeves, mussed hair, and reddened face.

"Cleaning up," she muttered, pushing back her mop of hair and smearing tomato sauce on her forehead. Grimacing, she swiped it away, then rubbed her fingers on her leggings. "Getting rid of the evidence."

"You mean that?" He dipped his head toward the mattress leaning against the living room wall.

"Yeah." She sat, setting down the remainder of her slice, finally ready for a breather. "It's not heavy, just clumsy to move."

"That's where the deed was done, huh?"

Layla's mouth crimped. "Yeah."

"Didja catch them mid-act or something?"

"No." She described the scene she'd walked in on, and Jessi's glee. "She planned it, and she wanted me to know." Pain jabbed her chest as she recalled Drew's look of fear and the malicious glint in Jessi's eyes.

"Man." The word was a sigh of disbelief. "I'm so glad I never fucked that bitch."

"That's why she hates me."

He blinked. "Huh?"

"She wanted to know how I liked sloppy seconds. She still can't stand that you and I hooked up and that you turned her down."

"Shit." He shook his head in disgust. "If I'd known it was gonna go down like that, I'd've gone ahead and slept with her."

Layla gave a little laugh. "Take one for the team, huh?" She rolled her eyes. Sleeping with Jessi would be no hardship. Most guys would fall all over themselves to get with her. Just as Drew had done. But Cam had managed to resist. "Selfless of you."

"Selfless. That's me to a
T
," he joked. "So what are you gonna do with the mattress?"

"Trash it. I don't want it. I'm sure as hell not going to sleep on it." She'd already junked the sheets in the Dumpster. She hadn't the heart to dump Grandma Messner's quilt, so she'd rolled it up and hidden it in back of her closet. First chance she got, she'd get it professionally dry-cleaned. Two or three times, maybe, until she was convinced Jessie's evil touch had been completely eradicated.

He looked puzzled. "What do you plan to sleep on? The box spring?"

"Yeah. I don't care. I just want it out."

"Okay." He chewed what was left of his pizza, then grabbed a paper towel and stood. "I'll help you get rid of it. And you won't have to sleep on a bunch of springs. We'll go get a new mattress for you."

It was an expense she could barely afford, but at least she could put it on her credit card and pay it off over time. "How will we get it back here, though?"

"I've got the Suburban. It'll fit in back just fine."

"Super." She bounced off the sofa, invigorated by this plan.

"Hold on." He smiled and wiped the paper towel over her forehead, then showed her the pizza sauce he'd removed. "You're a wreck, babe." His gaze softened as he smoothed a strand of hair off her face.

His kindness coaxed a sob up her throat. She blinked furiously at the wetness stinging her eyes. "I don't want to cry," she told him, her voice cracking.

"Right." His expression and his voice, while sympathetic, were firm. "No crying. So get yourself fixed up and let's go."

She smiled, ducking her head with embarrassment. "Yeah." Not only her face, but her clothes were smeared with sauce. "I'll be right back." She hustled off to clean up and change.

****

Layla and Cam trundled her old mattress down the stairs, leaned it against the Dumpster outside her building, then hopped into the Suburban to shop for a new one. At Budget Mattress they got silly trying out the selections, flopping onto mattresses and testing them out like Goldilocks in the house of the three bears. This one was too soft, that one too hard, another one too lumpy. They searched to find one that was "just right."