Girl Next Door - The Complete Series
Girl Next Door
The Complete Series
Copyright © 2013 Crystal W Wilson
All Rights Reserved
Interior Design by Angela McLaurin,
Fictional Formats
Friends with Benefits
Text copyright © 2012 Crystal W. Wilson
All Rights Reserved
To my hubby, for believing in me and encouraging me.
Saturday night sucked. For the third weekend in a row, I was spending my Saturday night on my couch, cuddled up to a pint of ice cream, and watching reruns of Golden Girls. This was definitely not the norm for me. While I was not some twit who thinks every night is a reason to party until I passed out, I’m a social animal. Weekends were invented so I could go out with my girls or my guy, drink, dance and have fun. Weekends were a break from monotony. Trust me, as an accountant, I often needed a break from monotony. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy my job. I like numbers. I’m good with numbers. Still numbers don’t make me laugh or make my heart beat fast. Okay, so if these numbers are on a winning lottery ticket or attached to a pair of shoes I absolutely LOVE and I lose track of the decimal because of the fog of shoe lust, maybe. Usually when this happens, my card has already been swiped through the little thingie and I’m walking out the door, receipt in hand, only to realize I’ve spent more than my car payment. Yikes!
Thankfully, I’m good at my job and extremely busy. Because of this, I only have time for serious shoe shopping on rare occasions and I make enough money to pay the price for my monthly shoegasm.
Needless to say, I am not the kind of girl who stays home for three Saturday nights in a row. However, these last three Saturdays have been about one thing, okay, several things: me being pissed, hurt, disgusted,
pissed,
and doubtful.
My boyfriend, Jack was the cause of all these feelings. Four Saturdays ago, Jack and I were hanging out with my bestie, Cat and her “friend”, Mike. Cat had lots of male “friends”. She is a bit of a commitmentphobe and refused to call him her boyfriend. We were grilling on my deck, drinking margaritas, and swimming in my awesome in-ground pool. Mike and Cat, unfortunately, became non-friends after five margaritas and a wicked argument, which ended with Cat screeching, “You’re a lazy, rude bastard AND you couldn’t find a clitoris with a map!” Did I mention this was after five margaritas?
On that parting salvo, Mike left and Cat was without a ride. I was well into margarita number six and Jack was almost done with a six pack of beer. Neither of us could safely drive her home. She, being part pissed off and part hurt, okay, maybe mostly pissed off and a little hurt, decided to stay the night instead of calling a cab.
Not long after this decision was reached, Cat and I cleaned up most of the mess (we were too tipsy to do more than a half-assed job) and went upstairs to bed.
The next morning I woke up slightly hung over in an empty bed. Jack usually slept half the day away after he tied one on, but he wasn’t in the bed. Hoping he was okay and not puking in the bathroom, I dragged out of bed. The bathroom was empty, so I doubted Jack was suffering from hang over hell. I did my morning routine and threw on some clothes.
Fifteen minutes later, hair still damp from my quick shower, I crept downstairs. The shower moved my hang over meter from slightly to less-than-slightly and I was feeling mostly human. I figured Cat was still in bed and I wanted to get the coffee ready before she got up. A hung over Cat was a little scary before her first cup of coffee. As I hit the ground floor, the scent of brewed java hit me. Yay! Jack was up and he even made coffee. The man was now my hero. I turned the corner into the kitchen and stopped dead in my tracks.
Cat had her back against the counter, Jack pressed tight into the front of her body. I came through the doorway in time to see him lean down and plant a lip lock on her.
My heart stopped because it couldn’t survive pain that fierce. Then, unbelievably, it began beating again, fast and hard. Suddenly, Cat simultaneously bit Jack’s lip and kneed him viciously in the balls. I think his feet even came off the floor an inch or two. When Jack crumpled, Cat leaned down and started shouting.
“You bastard! I’m Nat’s best friend! What the fuck?” She reared back, her face dark with fury. Then she lunged forward, hands out and curled into claws. “That’s it, I’m gonna kick your ass!” Though Jack definitely deserved it, my friend did not need to fight my battles.
I came unfrozen in time to take three steps across the room and yank Cat away from Jack before she could kick him in the face. I didn’t want her to hurt her bare foot on his hard skull. His face, I could have cared less about. Jack looked up at me, his face pale and guilty and started stammering.
