Just Friends With Benefits
Read Just Friends With Benefits Online
Authors: Meredith Schorr
I wondered if he knew what I hoped would happen. I was so nervous I incorrectly inserted the magnetic room key into the slot twice before Hille chuckled, took it from me and opened the door. I glanced at him shyly, feeling my face get red, and said, “Blame it on the tequila shot.”
Hille just laughed again and said, “Whatever you say.”
Even though we had basically been alone together all night, the dynamic changed as soon as we were enclosed within the four walls of my tiny hotel room and my hands were shaking. I told Hille to help himself to the mini bar and went into the bathroom to channel my inner cheerleader. I looked at myself in the mirror and, with the water running so Hille wouldn’t hear me, said, “Get a grip, Stephanie. You look damn good tonight and you know it. Craig Hille would have to be an absolute fool not to want to hook up with you. He wants you and you know it. Now go out there and get him!” With that, I left the bathroom and found Hille sitting on one of the guest chairs staring at his Blackberry.
Trying not to laugh at his predictability, I said, “Lots of emails, Craig?”
As he put the Blackberry back in his briefcase, he said, “Always, but nothing important or remotely interesting.”
I sat down on the foot of the king-sized bed which faced where Hille was sitting and said, “I’m glad we did this, Craig.”
“Me too, Steph. It was fun. Thanks again.”
“Thank
you
!”
There was a brief moment of awkward silence until I took a deep inhale and said, “Craig?”
“Steph?”
“This is kind of embarrassing.”
And really fucking scary
.
Hille shifted his body in the chair. “What’s wrong?”
“Uh, well, the thing is, I’m totally attracted to you right now.” I swallowed hard thinking even the teenagers on
“Gossip Girl” were probably more seductive than me.
Wings
JUST FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS
by
Meredith Schorr
A Wings ePress, Inc.
Contemporary Romance Novel
Wings ePress, Inc.
Edited by: Camille Netherton
Copy Edited by: Jeanne Smith
Senior Editor: Anita York
Executive Editor: Marilyn Kapp
Cover Artist: Pat Evans
All rights reserved
Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Wings ePress Books
http://www.wings-press.com
Copyright © 2010 by Meredith Schorr
ISBN 978-1-59705-95-9:
Published In the United States Of America
September 2010
Wings ePress Inc.
403 Wallace Court
Richmond, KY 40475
What They Are Saying About
Just Friends With Benefits
"Reading contemporary romance/chick-lit novel,
Just Friends With Benefits
is like peeking into 30-something Stephanie Cohen’s diary. We get to witness her love life and all the intimate details (read mistakes) and she makes plenty of them! All the twists keep the reader wondering to the very end who's "the one" and who's just friends. Debut author Meredith Schorr is a natural storyteller, able to make you laugh and cry right along with her carefully-drawn heroine. Like a good friend, I believed in
Stephanie, and I loved
Just Friends With Benefits
." – Karyn Lyndon, author of
For Richer or Repo
and
CurvyKathy31
. www.karynlyndon.com
To Marjorie: my sister and my best friend. I love you, Kid.
Special thanks to: Alan, I wish I could bottle your faith in me and keep it in my pocket at all times. Mom, I love you. To the folks at Gotham Writer’s Workshop for your honest and thorough critiques. To all of my friends for feeding me beer on a regular basis. To Camille for making me dig deeper. And finally, a big thanks to a group of strangers in the Outer Banks of North Carolina who made me feel like family.
November, 1996
Craig had perfectly coiffed locks. Slickly combed and impeccably trimmed. I knew because every Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning, between 10:30 and 11:25, I sat behind him in ‘Introduction to Law and Criminal Justice’ and stared at the back of his head. While Professor Blum gave his lecture, I fought the urge to kiss the nape of Craig’s neck, where his brown hair came to a flawless straight line.
At the end of every class, Craig would turn to me, his white teeth sparkling, and say, “Have a good one.” In that split second, I would imagine asking if he wanted to grab a cup of coffee or get to third base back in his room, but by the time I summoned the balls to choke out my standard, “Thanks, you too,” he was usually out of his chair and no longer in earshot.
I knew Craig was a brother in Phi Alpha Omega since the back of his t-shirts always bore the letters “ΦAΩ”, and when my eyes weren’t focused on Craig’s immaculate hairdo, they were focused on his muscular torso. (I especially liked watching his shoulder blades ripple when he raised his arms over his head in a stretch.) When someone slipped a flyer under the door of my dorm room advertising a Phi Alpha Omega-sponsored happy hour at The Longpost Tavern, I dragged my roommate with me, figuring a few pitchers of Bud Light and a Mind Eraser shot might be just what I needed to garner the liquid courage to kick our relationship up a notch.
On the big day, I wore faded blue wide-leg jeans with daisies on the rear pockets, a white v-neck t-shirt and black platform shoes. It was a rainy night and so to avoid the frizz, my hair was smoothed back into a long ponytail. I was wearing Clinique lipstick a shade darker than the color of bubble gum and purple eye shadow to bring out the hazel in my eyes. I applied my best poker face, showed my chalked i.d. to the burly male bouncer and, with my roommate Jana in tow, walked through the crowded bar where Alanis Morissette’s “Ironic” was blaring. Even through the smoky haze, I immediately spotted Craig standing by the one of the tables built into the worn wall. He was laughing at his shorter friend, who was gesticulating like a mad man screaming about the end of the world.
My heart pounding, I turned to my roommate Jana and gestured towards the bar. “I need a beer,” I said.
“Me, too.” Pointing her finger in the direction of the bartender, the glare from her enormous mood ring practically blinding me, Jana said, “After you.”
I led the way, looking behind me every couple of seconds to make sure I hadn’t lost Jana in the crowd.
I heard her whisper to my back, “Is your man here?”
I whispered back, “Yes. But I can’t talk to him yet. Too sober.”
“Which one is he?”
On a mission to down my first beer, I pushed my way to the front of the congested bar and flashed my $20 bill. I hoped the bartender would equate Andrew Jackson’s face with either a large drink order or a big tip, since pitchers were only $2.50 that night.
The bartender was an older guy who was mostly bald on top but wore his otherwise long silver hair in a ponytail. I secretly named him Rufus after George Carlin’s character in Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure. I absently tugged on my own ponytail, noting our similar hairstyles.
