Modern Girl's Guide to Friends With Benefits (6 page)

"I thought you said he was a friend?" Jan said from behind Peter.

"A very good friend," Megan said nonchalantly and looked up at Peter adoringly. "Peter and I are close."

"This guy," Jan said, frowning.

"Do you have a problem with that, Jan?" Peter said, purposely mispronouncing his name.

Jan narrowed his eyes. "She's a fucking tease. I can't believe I wasted my night on you."

"Watch it, asshole," Peter said, moving in front of Meg like a shield.

Jan took a step forward, getting right in Peter's face. "If she were mine, I wouldn't let her hang around bars acting like a slut behind my back."

"Hey, prick! I wouldn't have gone home with you anyway. You probably couldn't keep it up," Megan yelled from behind Peter.

Jan turned red, and leaned in, totally ignoring Peter. "Bitch. You have something to say to me? Why don't you say it to my face?"

It was easy to underestimate Peter. He was tall and thin. But he was fast for his size and well-muscled thanks to years of training on the swim team. A big guy like Jan didn't faze him one bit. Peter hooked his foot around Jan's ankles and shoved. The hulking man fell like a toppled tree and landed with a resounding thud.

Peter grabbed Meg's hand, ready to spirit her off the dance floor and back to the hotel. Unfortunately, he didn't see Jan's buddy come up beside him. As Peter turned, he was met with blinding white light and pain that radiated up his jaw. He stumbled back. Megan catching him was the only reason he didn't fall on his ass.

"Out!" a booming voice said over the ringing in Peter's ears. "All you all better get the fuck outta here before I call the cops." A big tattooed guy in a bowler hat wielding a baseball bat stood between them and Jan's crowd.

"That asshole started it," Peter growled. "You need to kick him out."

"Fuck you," Jan said. "And that whore friend of yours."

Peter took a step in his direction, but Meg pulled him away from the growing crowd to the side emergency exit.

"Come on. I'm not about to bail you out. Again."

Chapter Four

Modern Girl Tip #1 Sometimes It's Hard To Ignite That Spark:
Even if you're both up for it, a lot of times it's hard to switch from friends to lovers. It could mean that you just aren't into each other
that way
or, more likely, you just need to find the right moment when you're both in the mood. Especially if you've been friends for a long time.

Megan wasn't sure if she wanted to laugh or cry. Fleeing from a bar fight was not exactly how she planned on ending her birthday celebration. She ran down the dingy alley, pulling Peter along behind her. She was glad he'd been there—not that she couldn't have handled Jan herself. It was just nice to know someone had your back no matter what.

Had she actually been considering taking Jan up on his offer? Sure, he was hot, with a swoon-worthy athletic body that would give even maiden nuns the vapors, but there wasn't a whole lot going on upstairs. Try as she might, Megan just couldn't handle dumb. Pile that on top of his horrid personality, and there was no way she would have had a good time.

The martinis must have impaired her judgment. She wasn't a hard liquor kind of girl. And other than the chocolate martini she'd tried earlier, most of the drinks bought for her tasted like salty rubbing alcohol. She'd wanted to let loose, especially after her crappy week. It had been her birthday party, after all. So she accepted every drink passed her way.

Once they hit the street, Peter let her go and called the driver. Unfortunately, the entrance to the alley wasn't shoveled. The sidewalk was icy and the impossibly high stilettos she had on slipped, wedging a heel into a crack. Like a sadistic Rube Goldberg machine, the heel snapped, her other foot slid on the ice, and she toppled backward. This time, Peter wasn't close enough to catch her, and she fell ass-first onto the ice. As if the gods had decided the night wasn't bad enough, she was now soaked in salty, gritty slush.

If Megan had been an emotional woman, prone to fits of hysteria, this would be the part of the night when she'd start to cry. But Megan was practical. Shit happened. So instead of getting upset, she sat on the sidewalk and waited for Peter to help her.

"Fuck. Are you okay?" Peter yelled from down the sidewalk when he finally noticed she wasn't following him.

"Watch—" She started to warn him about the ice, but before she could say anything else, Peter was horizontal on the ground next to her. "Watch out for the ice," she said.

Peter struggled to a seated position and repeated the question. "Are you okay? Anything broke?"

"I'm fine unless you count my shoes," she said and held up the ruined footwear. "And my skirt is ruined. I really loved this skirt."

"Stay right there. I see the car." Taking more care on the ice, Peter waved over the Escalade, and within seconds he had her tucked in the back and wrapped in a warm blanket.

"That was pretty spectacular fall," Megan said, trying hard not to laugh. "Are you sure
you're
not hurt?"

"Just my pride," he grumbled. "I'm just glad no one else was there to see that."

"So I guess you'd be upset if I posted the video I took on YouTube?" Megan teased, innocently.

"I swear Meg, if you even—"

"Calm your tits. I didn't get a chance to take one, but I'm pretty sure it would have gone viral." Megan shook her head, laughing. "Are you sure you're not the drunk one? I did just find you flat on your ass in the parking lot."

"It was icy," he mumbled under his breath like a sulking child. "Listen, sorry if I ruined your birthday party."

"Don't worry about it. I'm glad we left. I'm just sorry you had to get in the middle of that." Megan turned to face out the window. She loved Peter. Kim, Beth, and Julia were great, but she'd take Peter any day of the week. He really was her best friend. Too bad that's all he was. "Tonight was a complete disaster. I hate winter. I hate snow. I hate prick ski jumpers." Megan banged her head against the freezing window and groaned. "I'm so over this month. I just want to go back home and hide until summer."

"Want to talk about it?" he prompted.

God, did she. Peter was her go-to confidant. But the last thing she wanted to do was bring up her writing crap now. She was hoping to find a nice distraction tonight, but instead she'd ended up with the biggest douche in the place. If only she had the balls to do what Kim suggested this morning. People had sex-only relationships all the time. But Peter was her friend and they couldn't cross that line.
Could they?

"I don't want to talk about it now, but I would like a gallon of ice cream and a bad movie," she said, opting for the easy way out.

"No talking. You don't have to tell me twice," he said with a laugh. "But I will call over to room service when we get in and see about that ice cream."

When they pulled up outside the cabin, Megan almost felt better about the night until she caught sight of Peter in the entryway light.

"Fuck, you're bleeding." She grabbed him by the chin and took a closer look. His lip was swollen. There was road grime and blood running down his cheek and staining the white collar of his shirt. He looked a mess.

"That ass caught me off guard," he said and pulled out of her grasp. "It's just a split lip. I'll live."

Megan pulled off his jacket and found a half-dozen red spots peppering his right shoulder and back.

"And this?" she asked, inspecting his arm.

"There was some broken glass where I fell. They're small cuts. I'll be fine, Meg."

"No way. I want to see myself. Take off the shirt and I'll get a washcloth."

"You're overreacting," he said, but unbuttoned the shirt all the same. "I'll just jump into the shower. You should probably get out of those wet clothes too."

Megan rolled her eyes, ignoring him. She was in a mood, and he was just going to have to deal. She grabbed a washcloth and a bowl of soapy water from the kitchen and pointed to the sofa. "Sit and let me look, then you can do whatever you want."

"Yes, Mother," he said.

She started washing the blood off his arm. His shirt looked like a prop straight out of an episode of "CSI," but the cuts were all shallow. She moved on to his face. His cheek was already turning a lovely shade of purple. The lip itself was swollen and angry looking.

"Are you still going to get in fistfights defending my honor when we're eighty?" she asked, tracking the cloth along his jaw.

"I don't know," he said, tucking a rebellious curl behind her ear. "Are you still going to be stirring up shit when you're eighty?

He was looking down at her, just inches away, and Megan had the sudden urge to kiss him. She took a deep breath and shrugged. "If I'm going to be a mess, I might as well be a hot mess."

"I don't think you're a mess, Meg."

"You don't realize how easy you guys have it. Men get away with all kinds of crap. I mean, look at Jan," she said, laughing. Had she really been flirting with a guy named Jan? God, she was a hot mess. She shook off the thought and went back to cleaning the blood off his neck. "Women are constantly being judged. You can't come on too strong or you get jerks like Jan thinking they can take what they want. If you're too shy, guys either think you're being coy or you're not interested. There's no winning."

"You don't know what you're talking about. It's just as hard for guys. I get called a chauvinist because I insisted on holding the door open and paying for a meal. But if I don't, then I'm an asshole."

"Oh, cry me a river. You don't have any problems with the women. Me, on the other hand, I can't seem to win lately. I'm just going to give up on dating."

"You? I've never known you to give up on anything. You're not a quitter."

Megan rinsed out the washcloth and brushed it across his strong jaw, the conversation she'd had that morning front and center in her mind. He was right; she wasn't one to give up.
Why not go for it?

"Dating is overrated. But you know as well as I do, you don't need to be dating to have sex," she said, testing the waters.

"Just because picking up a guy in a bar worked out for your friend Julia doesn't mean that that's the best way to find your soul mate."

"Screw soul mate. I'm just looking for a physical reward. I'm not talking about trolling the bars every night." Megan took a deep breath. Maybe he was right and she'd had too much to drink because she was about to cross a line that had been off limits for years. "I was thinking about something closer to home. A hookup buddy. You know, friends with benefits."

Peter swallowed hard and looked down at her. He licked his lips, and she thought he might just kiss her. She swore his dark eyes got darker with desire in those seconds. But he looked away, and the moment passed. "You know that never works out," he said on an exhausted exhale.

"Sure, when you try it out with someone who's not really your friend. People get attached and feelings get mixed up. But say you try it with someone you've got a solid friendship with? Someone you can depend on to stay within the rules of a sex-only relationship. Someone you can depend on to be honest and completely open." She put the washcloth down but didn't move away. "If it was with a good friend. Like us. We could totally make it work."

"Now I'm convinced you've had too much to drink," he said pulling back.

"I'm not drunk, and you're not listening to me," she said. "Think about it."

"Meg, this isn't funny."

"I'm not joking. I know you don't have time to really date, with your family and work, and I don't have the patience to baby a fragile male ego. We get along, respect each other, and already know each other's secrets. It would be perfect."

"Perfect up to the point when things get complicated and completely fall apart."

"It wouldn't get complicated," Megan said. They'd been here before, questioning the nature of their relationship. Peter had always been the one to shut it down, but not this time. They were older now, more mature. They could make it work. She shifted on the sofa and tucked her feet under her skirt. Getting just a bit closer, but still not touching. "Come on, Peter. It's my birthday and I didn't want to spend it alone. Be a pal and help me out tonight."