Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
KENNETH
“Hey, man, long time no see,” Mike greets when I answer his call.
“Hey. Yeah. Sorry. You know how work can be this time of year.” I cringe at the small lie, glad that this is only a voice call.
I have to admit, I might have been avoiding my best friend.
Okay, okay, there’s no might about it: I have been avoiding him.
It’s irrational, but I’m almost afraid that I’ll open my mouth and he’ll just know I’ve been doing unspeakable things to his son, and that his son has done unspeakable things to me, and that we’ve both enjoyed every filthy second of it.
And that I’m starting to think that I might have gotten a little too invested in his son along the way.
“No need to explain.” Mike’s cheerful dismissal of my half-assed apology only increases my guilt. “I know the festive season heading into Valentine’s Day is insane for retail. But” —his tone turns into the same exasperated one he usually uses when we’re discussing my job— “I hope you’re taking time to live , too, Ken.”
It’s almost jarring to hear the nickname coming from anyone other than Cody these days, which is absurd because Mike has been calling me by the shortened version of my name since we met in grade school. Still, it’s probably a good thing that I don’t get the warm, buzzing feeling in my belly when Mike says it.
It shouldn’t be a good thing that I feel that way when Cody says it.
We’re just friends. Friends who share orgasms, but just friends.
“Seriously, Ken.” Now Mike sounds concerned, and it’s probably because I haven’t made my usual attempts to convince him that my life is totally balanced. “Tell me you’re not working yourself to death. Aaron says he hasn’t heard from you since we forced you to go out for your birthday, and Hank is threatening to have the cops come and do a wellness check on you.”
I snort. “Things aren’t that dire,” I assure him. “I’ve actually been going out.”
There’s a brief, surprised pause. “Oh? With anyone in particular?”
Taking a seat on the couch where I first defiled his son, I feel my cheeks heat. Basil slinks into the room and leaps up beside me, butting his gray head into my thigh. I distract myself by scritching behind his ears, relaxing as he begins to purr.
“Nah.” I find myself lying again, closing my eyes and silently apologizing to Cody for not even having the balls to tell Mike that we’re friends. Though why I can’t do that, I don’t know. Mike wouldn’t have a problem with us being friends. He’d probably be pleased that I’m keeping an eye on his kid or something. Which just makes me feel guilty all over again because I’ve been taking advantage of the sweet young man instead. “Just…getting around. Nothing serious.”
The last admission is the truth, but it tastes just as bitter on my tongue as my lies.
Most likely because it’s just another lie…
Mike huffs out a little laugh. “Will wonders never cease. First Cody, now you. Is there something in the water in the city?”
My fingers still in the soft gray fur behind Basil’s ears and he chirps his complaint, but I stop petting him completely, raising my hand to my head and carding my fingers through my hair anxiously.
“Cody?” I query, hoping I sound nonchalant.
My heart is suddenly beating wildly. Did he say something to his father? Have I just been caught out in my web of lies? Is my best friend going to tell his son that I’m such a coward that I couldn’t admit we were friends?
Mike doesn’t sound angry or even upset as he answers, “Yeah. He’s apparently dating someone.” There’s a soft exhalation of breath down the line before he continues, “Becca and I are so relieved. He’s even more of a hermit than you, usually. At least you date, however casually. And I am using ‘date’ as a euphemism.” He chuckles.
I try not to let the assessment, however true it might be, sting. I used to be proud of my playboy reputation; why does it make me uncomfortable now?
“But Code? I thought he might be…I don’t know…asexual or something. Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” he’s quick to add. “But…I just don’t like the idea of him being lonely.”
He’s not , I want to argue. He’s got Sylvia and me . Sure, it’s not a huge social circle, but he’s happy.
Instead of saying that, though, I make a sound of vague agreement. “So…he’s dating someone?”
“Well, he didn’t exactly say that” —something that feels a lot like relief has my shoulders relaxing— “but he’s got a date for Valentine’s Day.”
Wait.
Mike continues, oblivious to the tightening of my chest on my end of our call. “Some colleague of his. Brett? Brandon?”
Brad.
Why didn’t he mention that to me? The last time we texted, he said he would think about it, and I —blindsided by a sudden realization that I’d broken my own damn rules with our arrangement— stupidly encouraged him to say yes to the invitation. I didn’t give him any reason to think he couldn’t tell me that he was going. It stings a little that he agreed and didn’t update me.
I must make some vague sound of understanding, though, because Mike keeps chatting away. Nevertheless, I’ve tuned him out.
Why am I so thrown by this? I try to tell myself that I’m hurt because Cody didn’t tell me himself, but I know myself better than that.
I’m hurt because I’m…jealous? Is that what that feeling is?
Whatever it is, I don’t like it.
“—about you?” Mike asks, and I realize too late that I probably should have been paying attention.
“Sorry, Basil distracted me.” From his spot against my thigh, my cat shoots me a reproachful look for using him as a scapegoat. Scapecat? Whatever. I avert my gaze from his damning one and clear my throat. “What did you just ask?”
“What about you?” Mike repeats genially, used to me zoning out for various reasons. “Any plans for Valentine’s? If you’re casually seeing people again, I can’t imagine you’ll be spending it alone with Basil.” He pauses, and I hear the smile in his voice when he adds, “No offense to Basil, of course.”
I return to stroking Basil’s fur again, feeling some of the tightness in my chest loosen as his purrs vibrate against me. “Actually, no. I’ll probably be working late. I like to see the sales reports for one of our busiest days of the year in real time.” I try to remember what me of two months ago might have said about taking a guy out for Valentine’s Day and force a cocky smirk onto my face, hoping it translates into my voice. “Besides, V-Day dates always send romantic vibes and I?—”
“Don’t do romance,” Mike finishes for me, sounding amused. “Your fear of commitment is nothing if not consistent.”
“We can’t all be in it for the long haul,” I reply by rote, but my heart isn’t in the playful tease this time.
Instead, a traitorous thought slips into my mind.
I could do ‘long haul’ with Cody .
And I could. Hanging out with Cody isn’t a chore. I don’t feel like I have to make accommodations for him in my personal space; he just fits. He doesn’t nag me about working late, or canceling plans for work. Instead, he sends me memes of commiseration, and then listens to me venting about the stresses of my day when we do finally talk. We love the same TV shows and, despite our age gap, share a lot of the same ideologies. We can talk for hours about anything and everything, without it feeling strained or without me counting down the time until I can say goodbye and not see him again.
Then there’s our sexual chemistry.
Sure, there’s nothing surprising about a twenty-six-year-old’s libido, but the fact that I’m the person who can bring that side out in him? That’s special. And the fact that he’s the only man I’ve had repeat sessions with in decades is pretty telling, too.
It just sucks that I’m having this revelation right now, on the heels of being told that Cody is dating Brad.
Stupid Brad.
No. Not stupid Brad. Stupid me!
What was I thinking when I suggested that we be friends with benefits? Why did it take another guy asking him out for me to realize just how badly I fucked myself over with that decision? How could I not have seen it earlier?
“…bringing Becca to the city for the night,” Mike is saying as I try to close the lid on the Pandora’s box of stupidity this conversation has inadvertently opened. “I booked a suite at The Royal —you know, where we went for our three-night honeymoon— and dinner at that fancy French restaurant you mentioned on your last visit. She hasn’t stopped talking about wanting to go. I blame you.”
Chuckling, I shrug, even though he can’t see me. “Becca likes the finer things in life. Why she stuck with you, I’ll never know.”
He hums agreeably. “I’ve been asking myself how I got so lucky for the past twenty-eight years. Christ,” he sighs, “can you believe Cody’s almost twenty-seven? I don’t feel old enough to have a kid who’s almost thirty.”
It honestly feels a little bit like the universe is trying to remind me of how inappropriate my current FWB relationship is. I cringe and my answering laugh sounds strained and forced even to my own ears.
“God, sorry, I keep forgetting that our age is a trigger for you,” he goes on to say, which only makes me feel worse. “Forty-five sounds a lot older than I feel, too. But, hey, we’re young at heart.”
“Yeah.” Two months ago, I would have cracked a joke about only being as old as the guy I’m feeling/feeling up, but to do so now feels so very wrong. “Hey, Mike?”
“Yeah?”
The sudden urge to confess what I’ve been doing comes out of nowhere, and I only just manage to stop myself from fucking up my longest lasting friendship. Swallowing, I close my eyes and lean my head back against the cool leather of my couch. “Feel free to swing by my place while you’re in town. I miss you.”
“I miss you, too, bud,” he replies with a note of alarm. “Is everything okay?”
I think about the fact that I’ve developed feelings for my friend with benefits. About the fact that the man in question is practically half my age. About the fact that he’s my best friend’s son and that still didn’t prevent me from doing the unthinkable, crossing lines I really shouldn’t have.
I think about the fact that I’ve made sure to remind Cody that we are just friends —about the fact that I openly encouraged him to go out with his hot new colleague— and that he’s taken my words at face value. That I quite literally pushed him into dating someone else.
Someone more appropriate for him.
It doesn’t make the ache in my chest hurt any less to think that last part.
“Yeah,” I assure Mike, even though I think I’m lying. “I’m just…thinking, is all.”
There’s a pause on the other side of the call, then he cautiously says, “Okay. But you know you can talk to me, right? About anything?”
About the fact that I’m falling in love with your son? I think drily. Probably not.
Out loud, I answer, “I do.”
Friday night is awkward. I know it’s my fault. I’ve been on edge ever since the call with Mike earlier in the week, and I’ve been trying to think of how to get out of the hole I dug myself.
I’m not upset with Cody at all. A little hurt that he didn’t tell me about agreeing to the date with Brad, but it’s possible —actually, more than likely— that he was waiting to tell me in person. It seems like the kind of conversation he’d prefer to have face-to-face, rather than via text, even if he initially told me about it that way. He’s a bit of an old soul, while I’ve spent my life avoiding in-person emotional conversations like the plague.
They come easier with Cody, though.
It’s a pity I was too busy sticking my head in the sand to notice until it was too late.
But would I really have done anything differently? With my closest friendship on the line, would I honestly have told Cody that my feelings had surpassed those of a legitimate friends-with-benefits arrangement? Would I have told him not to say yes to the date?
Let’s be honest: no, I wouldn’t have.
So, really, the ending here would have been the same. I would still be silently berating myself and pining over an unattainable man.
“Is everything okay?” Cody asks me when we’re settled on his couch. His hand is extended toward the TV, holding the remote. His thumb hovers over the button to play the most recent episode of Eldertide . But he’s looking at me and frowning. “You seem…off.”
I’ve always been an advocate for honesty. I’ve never led any of my hookups on, and I’ve endeavored to be just as upfront with Cody from the start of our friendship. The fact that I’ve been lying to Mike, even just by omission, turns my stomach, and I refuse to fall into the trap of lying to Cody as well.
So, as much as it makes me uncomfortable, I sigh and tell him, “I talked to Mike the other night. Somehow, the conversation turned to you?—”
“Oh, God.” He tenses and pales, dropping the remote onto the rug at his feet. He makes no attempt to pick it up, fixing his wide eyes on me. “Did you…does he know about…”
“No,” I hurry to assure him, trying not to be hurt that he doesn’t want his parents knowing about us, either. It seems a bit hypocritical to feel this way, because I totally understand why, but I’ve never been someone’s dirty little secret before and it’s not a pleasant feeling. “But he mentioned that you’re going out with Brad for V-Day.”
Cody winces and reaches up to rub the back of his neck. “I was going to update you tonight. It didn’t feel right texting you about it. I’m not, like, trying to hide it or anything…”
“There’s nothing to hide,” I acknowledge, even though the words taste bitter. “We’re friends with benefits, Cody. I told you to go out with him. You’re not doing anything wrong. I mean” —the laugh that escapes me sounds brittle to my ears— “we only started this thing to give you confidence to date, right? So…I guess it was a success.”
A furrow develops between his manicured eyebrows, and something in his expression tells me I’ve given my feelings away.
I watch as he licks his lips, trying not to think about all the times they’ve been wrapped around my cock or pressed against my own as we’ve made out until one or both of us have come.
“Ken…” he eventually begins hesitantly, but I can’t handle having to admit that I broke my own rules.
“Seriously,” I cut him off, “it’s fine. I just…I guess I was a little hurt that I didn’t hear it from you.” I muster a smile. “You could have called to tell me.”
“It felt like something to talk about face-to-face.”
This time, my smile is more genuine. I knew that would be his reasoning.
Because I know him so damn well now.
Because I’m falling for him.
“I know,” I reply softly. “I’m just being irrational.” Despite wanting to be honest with him, I can’t in good conscience tell him why that still bothers me. Not when nothing can come of it.
“Ken…”
“Nope.” I shake my head. “Let’s just drop it, okay? I want to find out if they’re going to do something about the tension between Mystic and Beltane or not.”
“You know as well as I do that they’ll drag it out until the season finale,” he huffs, but finally bends to pick up the remote.
We settle in to watch, and the tension between us does seem to have lessened, but there’s still a distance between us —figuratively and literally— that wasn’t there last week.
He’s dating Brad now , I remind myself. You have to settle for friends without benefits from now on.
I tell myself that’s better than nothing.
And now I’m lying to myself.
Great.