I THINK I MIGHT BE in love with my best friend…again.
There’s no question about it. Making love in his bed was the best night of my life. Feeling him in me, his hands on me, his breath in my ear, his weight on top of me. It was about as close to perfection as I could ever imagine. It made those six years I buggered off to Germany to reinvent myself a bloody fucking joke.
And then afterwards happened.
Horrible, awkward, soul-shattering afterwards.
Needless to say, things at the Harris Love Shack are fucking tense. Booker and I have been quiet the last couple of days, fumbling around and trying to avoid each other without appearing like we’re trying to avoid each other. Just this morning he was making a protein shake in the kitchen and I did an accidental brush by. It really was an accident this time. He jumped backward like he’d been bitten. But then he realised how he overreacted and gave me his protein shake in apology.
Bloody hell.
I’ve been cycling through my mind, trying to figure out if our friendship is salvageable after what’s happened. If I can get over my feelings and the hurt of Booker dismissing me so easily after what we shared together. Then when I threatened to leave and he got so worked up, I simply folded my cards. Cashed in. Because above all, I don’t want to lose my best friend. I need to figure out how to make things suck less.
On my walk back from my Friday night class, I get a text from someone who actually might be able to help.
Belle: Poppy! What are you doing tonight?
Me: Massive amounts of cool and incredible things.
Belle: So…nothing? Like me?
Me: Bingo. You and Tanner aren’t busy with wedding details?
Belle: Tanner is crap when it comes to wedding stuff. Indie and I are at my flat trying to pick out music for the wedding. We thought it might be fun to make a little impromptu hen night out of it. Have you ever drank Tequila Sunrises?
Me: No. Not a huge fan of tequila I’m afraid.
Belle: You haven’t tried THESE! Can we come over?
Me: You want to come to my flat?
Belle: Yeah, my place is a bit destroyed with wedding stuff everywhere at the moment, and Indie’s big ol’ house is all the way over in Notting Hill.
Me: Okay, sure. Booker is babysitting Rocky at Hayden and Vi’s flat tonight, so I’d love the company!
Belle: Lovely! See you soon! Xoxo
A flurry of excitement overcomes me as I hurry home to change and tidy up the flat. I’ve never had many girlfriends to speak of. Only a few from school, but we lost touch when I left for Uni. And since returning, I’ve been so engorged by…I mean entrenched by…I mean distracted by Booker that I haven’t really tried branching out much. Andrew from the gym doesn’t really count, even though he is really sweet and fun when he spots me for my reps.
Belle and Indie seem like loads of fun, so maybe this is precisely what I need to get out of my Booker funk.
I open the door and find the duo standing before me with bags in their hands. Indie’s wild red curls are in a messy top-knot, her signature eyewear a canary yellow this evening. Belle’s silky dark strands are combed over to one side, and her dark eyes are heavily lined and stunning as usual. The two are fearsome sights to behold. It doesn’t surprise me that they were able to tame the infamously wild Harris Twins.
Belle’s eyes are serious as she says, “Indie has the booze. I have the chocolate. Please tell me you have crisps or we’ll have to pop over to the shop.”
“I have crisps!” I sing and then twirl into the kitchen to find them in the cupboard.
“Thank fuck.” Belle exhales as the two drop their bags on the counter. “I love my chocolate, but drinking is so much easier with something salty.”
“That’s what she said.” Indie giggles at her little joke.
Belle deadpans, “No fucking chocolate for you.”
The two continue to jab at each other as they make themselves at home, grabbing glasses and mixing beverages like they’ve been here a hundred times. I eye them speculatively, grateful for my bottle of whiskey waiting in the wings when this tequila tasting goes sour.
Indie turns, handing me a tall glass with orange juice at the top and a red grenadine syrup floating at the bottom.
“It really does look like a sunrise,” I say with a wistful sigh. I’m sure it’ll taste awful, but at least it’s pretty. Sometimes it’s the little things.
Belle holds her glass out. “Tequila Sunrise, ladies.”
Indie repeats, “Tequila Sunrise,” and clinks her glass with ours.
“This a thing for you guys?” I murmur and sip mine gingerly. They watch me with wide, expectant eyes.
My brows arch. “It’s delicious!” I take another drink—a bigger, more satisfying gulp just to be sure. “You’ve cured me of my antipathy for tequila! I have to tell Booker about this drink.”
The two eye me like I’ve revealed some gory secret. I ignore their looks and head over to the sofa where they join me, chocolate and crisps in hand.
Belle surveys the room. “Gorg flat. Booker has nice taste.”
“Vi found it, I believe,” Indie adds, dropping down beside me and pulling her feet up underneath her. “She wanted to be sure to keep precious Baby Booker nice and close.”
The two giggle at the tiny, overprotective sister meddling in her four humongous brothers’ lives like she always has. Vi may be small, but she is mighty and pulls no punches where those Harris Brothers are concerned.
“Well, it’s all temporary for me I’m afraid.” I exhale heavily. “I’ll be moving at the end of July when my flat is open and, believe me, it can’t come soon enough.”
The two eye me seriously.
“Spill it,” Belle states, nodding her head at me and taking a quick sip. “What’s the real situation between you and Booker.”
I frown and shift nervously. “Nothing. We’re friends. Have been forever.”
“That’s not what he told Indie,” Belle murmurs around the rim of her glass.
Indie’s jaw drops and she slaps Belle on the thigh. “That’s not how it went and you know it!”
“Ow, you twat!” Belle’s mouth is dropped in pain. “I know he didn’t say it in so many words, but you told me that he looked a bit…agitated or something at practice.”
“Afflicted.” She adjusts her glasses in a huff. “He looked afflicted. A very different word. Agitated puts blame on someone else. Afflicted puts blame on one’s self.”
“Okay, afflicted then. So…what gives?” Belle pins her dark eyes on me, awaiting my response.
I squirm in my seat. “Nothing gives. We’re simply having trouble adjusting to friendship as adults. I was nineteen when I went off to Uni, and it had been six years since we’d seen each other. Going from BFFs to distant friends to flatmates would put stress on even the best of friends.”
“And it doesn’t help that you probably came back looking hotter than ever,” Belle states, taking a big gulp.
I take a drink and look away.
“Roll your eyes all you want, Pop, but you’re fucking tits hot. You have the neck of a swan. Hell, even I want to give it a lick.”
I laugh and Indie smacks Belle on the thigh again. “You are beautiful, Poppy. But you’re cool, too. Belle and I could tell right away. You have a really fun self-confidence about you that I greatly admire.”
I stare at the two of them, gobsmacked. I’m sitting with two of the most beautiful women I’ve ever met—doctors to boot—and they are envious of my confidence?
“Well, I like you guys, too. But I think you might be a bit too good for those Harris Twins. You know that, right?”
They both look wistfully at the sparkling diamonds on their fingers, neither one put off by my jab.
Indie is the first to break the lovey trance. “I don’t think we have to tell you that those Harris boys are some of the best ones out there.”
I laugh awkwardly. “They’re great and all, but I assure you, they’re not perfect.”
Belle toys with a lock of her hair, a look of astonishment etched on her face. “What on earth could sweet, sensitive, soulful Baby Booker have done? If you say he used to pull your pigtails in nursery school, I’m going to have to slap you.”
I laugh, letting the happiness resonate through my pores for a moment before I dig into a part of my soul that I prefer to tap dance away from. “Booker is a great guy, but he’s not immune to flaws. And even the good ones can let you down.”
“This sounds juicy,” Indie says, reaching out to the coffee table to grab some chocolates. She hands one off to Belle, who takes it without looking and begins unwrapping. Both their eyes glued on me.
“Oh, it’s nothing.” I try to wave them off. “It’s all ancient history.”
“So what?” Belle exclaims around a bite. “If it’s a titillating tale of betrayal, then let me know and I’ll pop some popcorn.”
I sigh and can’t help but smile at their wide, eager eyes. Maybe opening up to them some will help me get over it. And him. And if it brings us closer together, then all the better. I could use some more friends right now. “Very well then. Booker kind of…broke my heart when we were eighteen.”
“He did?” Indie chirps and Belle whacks her on the arm to shush her.
“Were you two together?” Belle asks.
I shake my head. “No. It wasn’t like that. We’ve never been anything other than friends. Never even kissed. But the older I got, the less friendly I saw him, if you know what I mean.”
Belle nods. “You saw him naked”—she taps her temple—“in your mind.”
Indie giggles. “I think of Cam naked all the time.”
Belle rolls her eyes. “That’s because he’s the only man you’ve ever seen naked, my darling.”
“I’ve seen lots of blokes naked. I was a surgeon and now I’m a doctor for a football team!” Her little put-out attitude is so bloody cute.
Belle swallows and replies, “Yes, but none of them deflowered you.” She says it all so matter-of-factly, I’m left frozen.
Indie’s cheeks heat. “I guess there is that.”
They try to get me back on topic, but I can’t get past what they revealed. I lean forward toward Indie. “Wait. Are you saying that Cam is the only man you’ve ever slept with?”
She nods.
“And now you’re going to marry him?”
Her smile grows and she nods even harder.
I sit back, shocked. “I’m amazed.”
“Why?”
I shrug my shoulders. “Because you’re so confident in your decision. I went off to Uni thinking I needed my horizons widened. Growing up in Chigwell, I had such blinders on all the time. All I saw was my own little world. Then the moment something went wrong, it felt like the ground was ripped out from under me. I had to leave. I needed to experience other cultures. I wanted to meet men who made me feel less fragile.”
Indie stares back at me thoughtfully. “Booker makes you feel fragile?”
I nod. “Like cracked glass.”
Belle pries, “What did he do?”
My belly heaves with pain. An old pain. A pain I don’t care to revisit and give life to, but a pain I can’t ignore anymore. “God, you guys must think I’m pathetic opening up to you like this after one bloody drink. I just have nowhere to go for advice because the person I normally go to is whom I need advice about!” I sob internally over how wretched this entire thing is.
“Go ahead and let it out. We’re here to listen,” Indie says, reaching over and touching my forearm. It feels nice.
I groan and reply, “He took a place that meant a lot to me…to us…to our friendship, and he shared it with someone else.”
“Another girl?” Indie asks, her voice quiet.
I nod and add, “It wrecked everything I thought I knew. It made me feel like I must have been delusional about things I thought were special between us. Surely I was off track. I didn’t see the truth.”
“Which was…” Belle prompts.
“That Booker didn’t love me the way I loved him.”
“He was eighteen,” Belle says in his defense.
“So was I.” My eyes begin to well, so I quickly slosh another drink in my mouth. “That only means it hurt that much more.”
“But now you’re both grown up,” Indie says, a helpful gleam in her eyes. “Maybe this means things have changed. Girls mature faster than boys. Surely he’s caught up and you see a maturity in Booker now.”
I shrug. “It doesn’t matter. I didn’t come back to London hoping to see a difference in him. I came back for a great job. Regaining a friendship with Booker was just going to be a big bonus. I really did miss him, but I feel like I’ve bitten off more than I can chew.” The image of his eyes on me at Old George flashes through my mind. Then the image of his eyes on me in my bedroom after we slept together and he flipped the switch. “Things are so complicated between us.”
“Because you’re not fucking kids anymore,” Belle states pragmatically. “Because you’re both shit hot and living under the same roof with plenty of free time. That’s sexual tension for miles. Couple that with a history of friendship and heartache, and you’re in the middle of a proverbial shit storm.”
I groan and cover my face with my hands. “I know. So what do I do? I have to move out, don’t I? I was foolish to think spending this much time with Booker would help us become Booker and Poppy again. I realise now that too much has happened. Too much has changed. I need to get out.”
“Fuck that,” Belle growls. “You need to take the power back.”
Indie’s eyes brighten. “Yes! I agree. Listen to Belle. She’s the queen of crazy Jedi mind tricks.”
Belle rolls her eyes. “I don’t think you can move out without knowing the truth.”
“What truth?” I ask.
“If he’s in love with you, too.”
I swallow hard and huff awkwardly. “I’m not in love with him. I thought I was when I was eighteen, but I was a child. I didn’t know what love was.”
“And now you do,” Belle states. “And you still love him. It’s written all over your face.”
Belle’s dark eyes pin me with a challenge. A heavy challenge. Indie’s head snaps back and forth between the two of us, caught in the middle of a silent standoff of wills. Admitting the truth out loud is terrifying. It’s one thing to think it in my head, but another to say it out loud to witnesses!
Do I love reminiscing with Booker? Yes. Do I love joking around with him? Yes. Do I love watching movies with him? Yes. Do I love drinking with him and dancing to music in the kitchen? Yes. Do I love being his flatmate? Yes, even in awkward moments.
Do I love the feeling of his hands on me as he pushes inside of me completely bare, nothing between us but flesh, vein, and muscle?
Fuck yes.
Do I love the feeling of his lips on mine? Do they give me life and make me feel like he’s wrong and that we are more than friends?
A thousand times yes.
I used to confide my inner most secrets to Booker and that is what’s missing. And it’s missing because I’ve been harbouring this secret from him for years.
I’m in love with my best friend, maybe more than ever now.
I’m the first to blink. “What should I do? He seems intent on pushing me away every time things escalate between us.”
Suddenly, the door opens and my heart leaps into my chest when I see Booker stroll in without a care in the world. He’s kitted out with a sleeping Rocky strapped inside a cloth sling across his chest like she’s part of his outfit. My cheeks heat as my eyes graze over his tight white, cotton T-shirt pulling at the biceps. One sleeve has a little bit of dried baby spit on the shoulder, but it doesn’t detract from the rich olive tone of his thick neck. His jeans are tight around his thighs, and his hair has that soft unkempt wave on top. It’s how he looks in the morning when he’s just woken up.
Three pairs of eyes stare wide and wild on him as he twirls his keys around his finger. He looks up, noticing us for the first time and freezes.
“What?” he asks, wiping his mouth like we’re staring at something smeared all over it.
“Nothing!” I sing.
“Yeah, nothing,” Indie chimes in.
“What are you doing here?” Belle rushes out, her tone way too conspicuous to be normal.
He frowns at our peculiar faces. “I forgot my mobile. I figured I’d need it in case Rocky started choking or something.” He reaches down and strokes her feathery blonde tresses as she slumbers beautifully. “I know what you’re going to say. She only eats soft food. But hell if I know what can happen to a baby. This is the first time Vi’s let me babysit, so I’m nervous. And my mind has certainly run wild. I came up with about eighteen different ways she could die all because I didn’t have my mobile to call an ambulance. Then I walked back here to grab it because I haven’t a clue how to run that car seat business to load her in my truck.”
He picks up his mobile from the kitchen counter and then eyes the three of us once again. “What are you guys doing?”
“Nothing,” I stammer.
“Drinking!” Indie flashes him her glass.
God, why can’t we stop acting like morons.
Belle adds, “We were doing wedding stuff.”
“Yes, that’s right,” I say, sounding a bit too impressed by her stellar response.
Booker tugs on his earlobe. “Oh? Everything going all right?” He looks at me.
“Yeah, lovely,” Belle answers for me. “I have a question, though.” She gets an evil look in her eyes as she gestures between me and Booker. “Are you two coming as each other’s dates to the wedding?”
We both laugh awkwardly and sputter, “No.”
“No?” she repeats, her voice rising at the end with suspicion.
Booker looks at me again, and I shake my head as he says, “No. Just mates. You know. Booker and Poppy.” His hands hold onto Rocky for comfort as the skin on his neck turns red.
“Perfect! Then you can each bring dates. My parents aren’t fucking coming, and I paid a bomb to have fresh lobster brought in.”
“Erm…I’m not sure—” I stammer and Booker interrupts.
“What about the paparazzi—” he adds.
Belle cuts him off. “We’ve tipped the paparazzi off with a fake location and a fake date. Just don’t tell your guests where you’re taking them and we’ll be fine. I need this, guys. My parents are pompous, egotistical prats, and I want my wedding to be a fun party. It’s the anti-wedding basically. It would really mean a lot to me if you both brought dates so I don’t have to stare their fucking lobsters in the eyeballs and have a Bridesmaids giant cookie freak-out moment, all right?”
She shoots us a crazy smile. A frightening smile. A smile that leaves no more room for argument.
We both nod.
“All right then, I’ll just erm…leave you ladies to your evening.” Booker wiggles Rocky’s sleeping hand goodbye and strides out of the flat.
When the door clicks shut, all three of us exhale with relief. “Do you think he heard us?” I ask, my eyes wide and worried.
“Not a chance,” Belle replies confidently.
“What the fuck are you trying to start with this date thing, Belle? I don’t want to watch Booker with another girl,” I state, crossing my arms over my chest and trying not to sulk too much.
“Oh, you’ll see,” she smirks and sits back, mirroring my stance and blowing on her nails like she just finished an epic bout. “Just get yourself a fucking date.”
I nod and look at her and Indie. “So, do you guys want to talk about wedding music now?”
Belle laughs. “Fuck no. That was complete bullshit. We just wanted to drill you about Booker.”
Before the end of the night, I realise that Belle and Indie are master manipulators. Grade-A, psych ward level shit. Like maximum penitentiary prison type psychoses. Like Harley Quinn and The Joker from Suicide Squad are fuzzy puppies with good temperaments next to them.
After about four more Tequila Sunrises, we decide to map out my next two weeks leading up to the wedding. It’s aimed at setting things up so that the wedding will be Booker’s breaking point, so to speak.
Belle titled the list:
HOW TO GET BOOKER HARD by Dr. Love.
I might have side-eyed her concerning the title, but their suggestions are pretty spectacular.