Frenemies with Benefits (Searching for Love Book 1) Page 3

  “Touché.” I chuckle and then turn my attention back to my food. “I’ll be ok.”

  Elena smiles at me and pulls her legs up under her. We sit in companionable silence for a bit. I feel better already. Just saying it out loud to someone else has made me realize what a non-issue it is. I saw Zach, a guy I kissed a few times ten years ago. It was a bit awkward. So what?

  “Do you think he still does drugs?” Elena lowers her voice on the last two words, as if she’s scared someone might overhear her.

  I smirk. Elena is from rural Indiana. She grew up in a wholesome home with a bunch of dogs and corn fields. It’s actually endearing how innocent and idyllic her childhood was.

  “He didn’t actually do drugs, at least not back then,” I say. “He just carried them for his dad sometimes.”

  “Oh.” Elena furrows her brow. “Do you think that’s better or worse than doing them?”

  “Jeez, I didn’t know you were going to want to have an ethical debate, or I wouldn’t have brought it up,” I say.

  Elena laughs. “I guess I just feel bad if his dad dragged him into something he didn’t want to be involved with. He was so young.”

  Elena feels bad for everyone. No one is actually a villain in her book, everyone is just misunderstood.

  “I was young too,” I say.

  “But did your mom ever ask you to carry drugs?”

  I can tell right away that she regrets asking. Elena bites her bottom lip and looks down as soon as the words are out of her mouth. She was just trying to justify Zach’s long-ago actions, and she forgot how much I hate talking about my mom.

  The question hangs in the air between us for a moment, but I don’t want to punish Elena with silence. She didn’t mean any harm.

  “No,” I say. “She never asked me to do that. She might have if I hadn’t moved out, I guess I’ll never know.”

  I shrug to indicate just how much I don’t care to know.

  I know some people are obsessed with closure. They go through life insisting on having deep conversations with anyone who ever wronged them. They can’t break up with a significant other without having long agonizing conversations about every detail of the relationship. They need to have every little question answered and explained.

  Personally, I don’t think closure exists. Or rather, it’s not something anyone else can give to you. Closure is an excuse to keep interacting with someone you shouldn’t be interacting with. Only you can give closure to yourself. Learn from your mistakes, journal about them if you have to, vent to friends. That’s all the closure you really need in my opinion.

  “Well.” Elena’s eyes start to twinkle with a mischievous gleam. “How did he look? Still cute?”

  I roll my eyes, but I can’t help but smile. “Even cuter, if I’m being honest.”

  “I’m not surprised.” Elena lets out a little girlish squeal. “You always date good-looking men.”

  I laugh. My reputation for dating the most generically handsome guys started in college. I was so excited to be surrounded by people with drive and ambition and intellect that I went a little boy crazy. I don’t mean to sound arrogant, but guys tend to like me. It’s not because I’m strikingly beautiful or anything. I think it’s because I’m petite and easy-going and my reddish hair makes me stand out so guys approach me.

  As far as long-term relationships go, my luck isn’t so good. I get tired of guys fast, especially when they don’t get my dry sense of humor. Plus I’m not the best at opening up. Yes, I’ve told my best friends about my past, but I’ve never felt close enough with a boyfriend to confide all that.

  “He seemed taller.” I stare into space as I recall the lines of his back. “A bit older obviously.”

  “I ran into my high school boyfriend when I was home for Thanksgiving,” Elena says. “He has a kid now, it was crazy.”

  “That’s insane,” I say.

  It feels nice to talk about Zach like this. As if it was normal. As if he was just like any other high school sweetheart.

  I know he’s not. I know what we had was not some bubble-gum teen romance. There were no innocent first dates to the movies or holding hands in the school hallway. We weren’t innocent. We had seen too much of the dark side of the world. Our feelings for each other were dangerous and hard-edged and just a bit desperate. As if we had nothing else good in our lives, and we didn’t expect a relationship to be good either, so we didn’t even bother starting a real one. We always knew we were doomed.

  Elena and I finish our tacos and chat a bit more about our lives.

  Since we both have to get up early for work the next day, I start getting ready to leave before 8.

  “I’ll see you at brunch this weekend,” I say as I pull on my winter coat.

  “Yes!” Elena grins. She loves traditions, and Sunday brunch is one of her favorites. “I feel like I haven’t seen Zoe in ages.”

  I laugh. “She’s missed one brunch”

  Zoe recently got a big assignment at the consultant firm she works for. She can talk about it for ages. Most consultants seem to hate their jobs, but Zoe is a fanatic. When she gets serious about an assignment, she disappears for a few weeks.

  At the door, I turn and hug Elena. I’m not a touchy-feely person at all, but I like to show my friends affection. Especially since Elena has made me feel so much better tonight.

  “Thanks.” I give her one final squeeze and turn to go.

  I see something in her eyes as she closes the door. It’s not until I’m on the train back towards my place that I put my finger on it.

  Worry. Behind her gentle smile, there was concern lurking in Elena’s dark eyes.

  I feel like I can stop obsessing over the Zach sighting, and I was able to talk and joke about it with Elena. And yet my best friend is still worried about me.

  I don’t know what to make of that.

  Chapter Four

  At work on Friday, I hit my sales quota for the month with a whole two weeks to spare. That officially makes it a good day, but it was anyhow going well before I even closed the deal to push me over the line.

  After chatting with Elena, I’ve managed to banish Zach from my mind and get on with my life. I’m looking forward to seeing my friends on Sunday and spending the rest of the weekend curled up in my warm apartment with some hot tea and a good book. That’s the best way to spend your free time during a Chicago winter.

  Now that I’m at quota, I don’t even have to stress about work. Not that I stress that much about work. Some people struggle with the ups and downs of a life in sales. You can have an amazing month and make great commission, but then the next month, the well will run dry. It’s tough when you can’t seem to close or you only manage to get small deals. I know most of my co-workers have cried in front of their manager at some point or another.

  Not me. I never saw the point in crying if you can laugh instead. The bad months always end, and the good months always return, as long as you keep working. Besides, even during my worst months, when I didn’t hit quota, I still got paid a salary, and I was still able to pay off my student loans, and I still got to go home to my own apartment and eat a nice meal and not have to stress or worry about paying my rent.

  My manager Laura once told me during a one-on-one that she didn’t understand my constant composure. She said she couldn’t figure out if it was because I bury my feelings deep down under a mask or if it was because I just don’t care.

  I didn’t really have an answer for her. I don’t bury my feelings; I just find it easier to joke about things that upset others. I spent half my childhood being upset about things but I’m done with that now. And I do care about my job, but I’m certainly not passionate about it.

  This drives Zoe crazy. She’s driven and career-obsessed, and she has always known she wants to be a top consultant at her firm. She can’t understand that I don’t have clear aspirations. She doesn’t get that I just want a steady and a reliable office job, so she’s always brainstorming possible career
changes for me and trying to get me to take those quizzes that tell you what your ideal job is.

  When I was a kid in Torrins, so close and yet so far from the city, I thought it would be amazing to take the train to a downtown office every day. There was nothing more romantic to me than getting to walk into one of those skyscrapers in slacks and a blazer.

  And now I get to do that. Perhaps I was aiming low, but I still made it here. That’s a miracle enough for me.

  Besides, changing your career is a risk. When I’m done paying off my student loans, and I’ve saved loads and loads of money, then maybe I’ll consider a change, but as of right now, I avoid taking risks like the plague. I’ve endured enough risk and uncertainty to last a lifetime.

  At four, I start to pack up my bag. In my team, if you have a productive day, it’s a tradition that you get to leave a bit early on Friday.

  I wave to my co-workers and head for the elevator, a little bit of a skip in my step.

  My office is in the Merchandise Mart, the huge building in downtown Chicago that takes up an entire city block. That means that I don’t even have to walk outside to get to the Brown line. I just go to the main floor, and the train platform is right up against the side of the building.

  The main floor also has all the restaurants (no freezing your butt off to get lunch), and it’s teeming with people as I stride towards the train.

  “Beatrice! Hey!” The voices come from my left. Even after all the years, I know right away who it is.

  Zach O’Malley isn’t just hanging around in Torrins. He’s here, in the Merchandise Mart.

  I turn, and my stomach flips as I see him walking right towards me, a massive smile on his face.

  How does he look so tan and healthy in the dead of winter? It’s not fair.

  “Beatrice.” Zach stops right in front of me. “Fancy seeing you here.”

  He grins, and it’s like I’m seventeen again. The way his brown eyes seem to hold some hilarious secret that’s just between us, and the way the left side of his mouth quirks up higher than the right – none of it has changed.

  “Fancy seeing you out of Torrins.” I smile, but I inject a dry tone into my words. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were stalking me.”

  Because there’s no way this is a coincidence. Zach doesn’t just happen to be in the Merch Mart the very moment I’m leaving work. I don’t know how he found out where I work (ok, it’s not like it’s that hard with the internet, but still), and I don’t know why he’s here, but he has a reason. Zach never does anything without a reason.

  “Ah, come on, Bea,” Zach says. “You’re not the only one who’s allowed to leave Torrins, ya know.”

  I smirk as all my old instincts kick in. It was always easy to get along with Zach, as long as I never got too upset about his sly wit. The minute I acted too sensitive or prissy, I knew Zach would think I just couldn’t take a joke.

  “Hey, you’re the one spending your Sundays at the local 7-Eleven,” I say.

  “I knew you saw me.” Zach winks and my body betrays me by tingling with excitement. “I guess I’ve aged well if I struck you speechless, huh?”

  I make a show out of looking him up and down with a critical eye before answering. “Well, you’ve definitely aged.”

  “Not you,” Zach says. “You’re still gorgeous.”

  And that is what makes Zach so dangerous. He’s all lighthearted banter and ribbing until out of nowhere, he gets completely serious as he delivers a compliment in the most sincere tone.

  It used to knock the breath out of me. It still does, but I don’t show him that. Instead, I give him a cool smile and tilt my head.

  “I have to say, I’m shocked you’re not still wearing your trademark white T-shirt.” I nod at the blue button down beneath his winter jacket. It’s tucked into jeans, but it’s still much more formal than I’ve ever seen him. “I thought the plain T was your uniform or something.”

  “I can whip out an old one,” Zach says. “If you missed them that much.”

  I roll my eyes, but I’m feeling at ease. Even as a teenager, Zach had a way of making people relax. He could have been a master manipulator if he wanted, although he never seemed interested in that. Back then he wasn’t interested anyway. Who knows what he’s interested in now.

  He shifts a few steps to the side of the broad hallway, and I follow him, so we’re not standing in the middle of a river of people getting out of work and heading for the train.

  “So how are you?” he says.

  “I’m good,” I say. “I’d give you the whole spiel about my job and what not, but you’ve clearly been stalking me.”

  “I admit, I got curious after seeing you last weekend,” Zach says. “You’re telling me you’ve never looked me up on the internet?”

  I give him a wicked smile and lean forward. “Not even once.”

  He clutches his hand to his chest and closes his eyes in a show of pain. “I’m wounded.”

  “You’ll live.”

  In the back of my head, I know it’s odd that he’s shown up here. Maybe he just wants to catch up, but still, he could have sent me an email or something. Although, he probably only has an old address. Even so, who shows up outside someone’s work? It’s not appropriate ex-boyfriend behavior. And he’s not even a real ex.

  I’m not angry or frustrated though. Instead, I’m almost enjoying myself. I forgot how fun it was to fall into an easy back-and-forth with Zach. He knows me well, after all. Better than most people. We were friends before we had our brief romantic fling. Zach always made me laugh, even when I wanted to scream I was so mad at my mother.

  “I gotta run.” Zach glances at his phone, and I’m surprised to feel a flurry of disappointment. He came all the way here, and he doesn’t even want to grab a drink with me? I have to remind myself that I don’t want to grab a drink with him either. He’s not part of my life anymore.

  “Well, it was nice seeing you,” I say. I grip my back tight and turn to go.

  “Woah, wait, not so fast.” Zach places a gentle hand on my upper arm, and I go stock still. Even through the thick layer of my coat, my body seems to come alive at his touch. “I wanna catch up some more, let me take you out to dinner sometime.”

  “It’s been years.” I raise my brows. “That’s a lot of catching up to do.”

  Zach lets his hand drop, and it makes me ridiculously sad. He shrugs and gives me another grin. “Come on, it’ll be fun. We’re old friends, right?”

  I almost ask him how he plans to pay for dinner, but I bite my tongue. That would be too mean. He was broke as a teenager, as was I, but that doesn’t mean he’s still broke. In fact, he looks pretty put-together.

  Then again, that raises the question of where he’s getting the money from? Maybe, Finn and his dad actually started paying him for all the errands he did.

  “Maybe,” I say. “I’m pretty busy.”

  Better to brush him off than have him pay for a meal with drug money. Not that I would let him pay for my half. That would imply it was a date. Which it wouldn’t be. Even if I agreed to a dinner.

  “Here’s my number.” Zach fishes a small card out of his pocket and holds it out to me. “Call me, ok?”

  I take the card, but I don’t look at it.

  “Seriously, I wanna hear all about how little Bea Dobbs ended up living a glamorous city life,” he says with a teasing tone.

  “You make it sound like we grew up on a farm,” I say.

  Zach lets out a huff of laughter. “I wish.”

  I laugh as well. Only Zach O’Malley could make me giggle about my youth. Only him.

  “Alright, I’ll give you a call.” For the life of me, I can’t tell if I’m lying or not.

  “It was good to see you.” There it is again. The wide eyes and the sudden sincerity that makes me feel like I’m the most important person in the world to him. I’m not. I never really was.

  Zach may have mastered the art of appearing sincere, but I kno
w not to trust a thing he says.

  “Yeah,” I say.

  I give him a little wave and then turn towards the train. I don’t look back until I’m swept up in the crowd. I can’t see him anymore. He’s vanished into thin air, almost as if I hallucinated him.

  I didn’t. He was too solid and warm and real. And too familiar. I’m shocked at how good it felt to chat with him. Like I was coming home after a long journey.

  I don’t look at his card until I’m crammed onto the train.

  It’s for a company called O’Malley Contracting. There’s a little design of a house and then a phone number and website.

  So he runs his own business. That suits him. I can’t picture him working in a corporate office. He’s got too big of a personality.

  I fiddle with the card and stare out the window as the city rushes by.

  He hasn’t changed, and that’s what worries me. The Zach I knew was handsome and charming and even kind. But he still ran drugs for his dad. He still was involved with some shady stuff.

  He still could be. Even if the business is legit, he could easily be dealing on the side. Maybe that’s even why he had to dash off so fast. He was meeting a customer.

  I sigh and rub my forehead. It’s not like me to be this suspicious of people, but this isn’t just anyone. It’s Zach. I never really knew how involved he was in the drug dealing, but I knew he wasn’t totally innocent.

  I once trusted my mother. I thought, as all kids do, that she knew what was best and she would make the right decisions. After she failed to do so time and again, I learned my lesson. No one, no matter how much you love them, can be trusted to do the right thing.

  My mother tried to get in touch with me a few years ago. She somehow found my number, probably through an old friend from Torrins. She called me over and over, and she sent me long meandering texts about how she’s changed now, and she’s sober, and she’s trying to make amends.

  I deleted the messages and blocked her. I would have changed my own number if it wouldn’t have been such a hassle.

  Because people don’t change. My mother hasn’t. And I’m willing to bet that Zach O’Malley hasn’t either.