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Ben
Discussing Amber andLucas was not what I had in mind when I came out with the guys tonight, yet I’d rejected a potentially excellent lay an hour ago so I could talk to Lainey. I couldn’t turn her away. Not when she said she’s depressed and that her life is falling apart. And not when I caught a glimpse of hurt in her eyes when she thought I’d deliberately ignored her text.
“Does it work?” she asks after a brief pause in our conversation.
“Does what work?”
“Does hooking up with a random stranger erase the pain of loving someone you can’t be with?”
I shrug. “Sometimes.”
Lainey appears to ponder this. “I couldn’t do that. Have meaningless sex, I mean.”
“Men and women are wired differently.”
“But that woman you were with tonight, she didn’t want something meaningful, did she?”
“She was definitely on board for some no strings attached sex.”
“So then it’s not a gender thing.”
“Okay, it’s not a gender thing. Everyone is different. Some people find it easier to stay detached during sex than others.”
“People like you?”
Lainey props her hand underneath her chin and studies me. Her dark green eyes seem impossibly large behind her glasses as she does so, and the alcohol has warmed her, giving her cheeks a pink tinge.
I can’t remember ever having such a frank discussion about sex with a woman—well, a woman I wasn’t planning to go home with, anyway. I should probably feel more uncomfortable than I do, but it’s always been this way with Lainey. There’s just something about her that makes her easy to talk to. Maybe it’s the fact we’ve spent the past year and a bit making each other more comfortable on our double dates with Lucas and Amber.
“When you’re having sex with someone, you’re in the moment,” I say. “I’m not thinking about Amber, or how hard it’s going to be to see her again, or how happy she might be with Lucas. I’m just thinking about... release.”
“Wow, that’s so incredibly romantic,” Lainey says dryly. “I can totally see why the women want to go home with you.”
I chuckle. “Hey, you asked.”
She can’t quite cover her smile. “I did, didn’t I?”
We both stop talking to take a swig of beer. Lainey’s had wine, then shots, and now beer. I’ve never seen her drink this much. She’s going to be sick as a dog tomorrow.
Lainey puts her beer down and looks at me. “Do you think they’re happy together?”
“Like pigs in mud. They have years and years of denial to work out of their systems. They probably haven’t left the bedroom in the past three months.”
The stricken look on Lainey’s face almost makes me feel bad for saying it. Almost. It’s the truth, and if hearing it helps her move on and get past this, I’ll repeat it a hundred times for her.
Lainey sighs heavily. “You know, the first time Lucas told me he had a girl for a best friend, I knew things probably wouldn’t end well for me and him.”
“Why’s that?”
“It’s one of the most popular clichés in romance novels. Best friends always wind up together.”
“Books aren’t reality, Lainey.”
We had this conversation the night she told me she’s a romance writer. While it’s nice she confided in me—not everybody knows her secret—I don’t like what she writes. I mean, romance novels are bullshit. They’re designed to give women stupid expectations that men can’t possibly live up to.
“I know books aren’t reality, Ben, but there’s a reason it’s a cliché. Best friends do always wind up together.”
“So you’re telling me you knew things would end up this way for you and Lucas? I wish you’d told me that when Amber and I first got together,” I grumble.
