CourtShip (Best Friends Book 1) Read online

  “No. I was already up. How do you feel?”

  “Like crap. Of course.”

  “Do you remember last night?” She must remember something since she’s turned up at my door this morning.

  “I’m a little fuzzy about some of the details, but I remember enough. That’s why I’m here. To thank you.”

  “Oh. Sure. No problem.” I shift from foot to foot and wish I had something better on than these stupid flannel pants. “Anyone would have done the same.”

  “No. They wouldn’t.” Her eyes are even huger than they were last night, her face scrubbed clean of makeup. The blue streaks in her hair must have been from a rinse-out color because they’re not there this morning. Just the red-gold that must be natural. “Someone else finding me that way might have acted a lot different than you did.”

  I swallow hard since I know she’s telling the truth. And it scares me. Thinking about what might have happened to her if some heartless creep had found her huddled in the hallway instead of me. “Yeah. You should be careful. I know women should be able to get drunk and still be safe, but that’s not the world we live in.”

  “I know. I was stupid. Just so you know, it wasn’t only about the TV show. There was more to it.”

  “I figured.”

  She twists her hands together in a restless gesture. “Yesterday was the anniversary of my dad dying.”

  “Shit,” I mutter. “I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks. I just didn’t want you to think I’m... I’d... I didn’t want you to think it was all about the show. So thank you for helping me. I mean it. Thank you a lot.”

  I nod at her, feeling strangely embarrassed. I’ve never been good with women, which is why I’m twenty-five and have only had two girlfriends. But this is a different kind of embarrassment than my normal tongue-tied awkwardness.

  I’m not looking at Courtney as a potential relationship. I’m a TA, and I teach students her age. She’s incredibly pretty, and it would be easy for me to be attracted to her, but decent men know what’s off-limits, and she definitely falls into that category for me.

  She’s twenty. And a half.

  She’s very young. Very pretty. Forbidden.

  She’s not for me.

  “You’re welcome,” I finally mumble. “I’m glad it was me who found you.”

  “Did you just move in recently? I haven’t seen you before.”

  “Oh. Yeah. I just moved in last week.”

  “Are you a student?”

  “Graduate student. PhD.”

  “Oh. I’ll be a senior next year.”

  I nod, having figured that much by her age.

  “Do you like it here so far, other than finding drunk girls at your doorstep in the middle of the night?”

  “So far, so good. Anything is better than my previous living situation, which was living with my ex.”

  “You were married?” She’s looking less subdued now, more like what I assume is her normal vibrant self.

  “Ex-girlfriend. I was with her a year and a half, and we tried to keep living together since we shared the lease, but it just didn’t work. I needed a place that was cheap and decent and within walking distance of campus since I don’t have a car, so this place works great.” I have no idea why I’m rambling on this way. I never ramble.

  “Why don’t you have a car?” She’s acting like it’s perfectly normal for her to be quizzing me on personal information as we talk at eight thirty in the morning across my doorway.

  I shrug. “I can’t really afford one. I don’t want to live on student loans, so all I’ve got is my TA stipend and a part-time job at a bookstore. I can get by in town without a car.”

  She looks interested, as if this topic is entirely new to her. From the little she told me last night, my guess is that she’s supported by her mother, who probably has plenty of money, if I can judge by the quality of her furniture.

  “What about when you want to go visit your family?”

  “I don’t have any family.”

  “None at all?”

  I shake my head. “Not really.” I had my mother, but she OD’d when I was seventeen.

  “I’m sorry.”

  It looks like she really means it. “Don’t be. I’m used to it.”

  “I just have my mother,” Courtney says. “And we’re not very close. I was close to my dad, but now... I see my mom at holidays and stuff, but she works all the time and isn’t really into bonding. I try. And every once in a while, she’ll try too.”

  I nod. Her tone is matter-of-fact, and her expression reminds me of me. Courtney might be financially provided for by her mother, but she feels just as alone as I do.

  We stand in silence for a minute. I’m not about to close the door on her face, but I have absolutely no idea what to say.

  “Anyway,” she says at last, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “I’m glad you moved in, Shipley. And thank you again for last night.”

  “You’re welcome again.”

  She gives me a full smile for the first time. It’s radiant, transforming her whole face, the whole world.

  I stare at her, breathless and dazed, before I remember that I should smile back.

  She starts walking toward her apartment but pauses to give me a slanting, teasing look over her shoulder, which might be the most enchanting thing I’ve ever seen.

  This is what she says.

  “I never had a brother. But if I did, I’d want him to be like you.”

  Two

  Two years ago

  WE’RE SUPPOSED TO LEAVE for the movie theater in five minutes, and Courtney is still sitting on my oversized ottoman, her eyes fixed on the television.

  She was in my apartment when I got home an hour ago, saying she got the sudden urge to rewatch a movie that I own and she doesn’t. So I left her in my living room as I went to shower and get ready for our double date.

  Not that she’ll call it a date, but I’m pretty sure that’s what our outing is this evening. She wants to fix me up with the twin sister of the guy she’s been hanging out with.

  I haven’t dated at all in the past year, and she thinks this is a problem. Despite the fact that she’s consistent and vocal about her personal nondating philosophy, she evidently thinks I’ll be happier with romance in my life.

  So she organized this evening at the movies, blithely assuming no one will have any objections to it.

  In the past several months, Courtney has dragged me into her friend group, so I have more of a social life now than I’ve ever had before. I’m deep into my dissertation—so much so that it consumes most of my life. I haven’t been in the mood for romance, much less summoning the energy and initiative to go out on first dates. It would be nice to have sex, but I can jerk off in the shower every morning and hang out with people I like for the rest of the day.

  I don’t need to date right now, but once Courtney gets something in her mind, you might as well just accept it. She always eventually gets her way.

  “You ready to go?” I ask her, standing in the living room behind where she’s perched on the leather ottoman.

  “This is almost over.”

  I glance at the television to gauge how much is left in the movie she’s watching. Just a few more minutes. “We need to go soon.”

  “Shh,” she says, her eyes still fixed on the screen. “She’s about to kiss him.”

  “On the cheek.” My voice is dry, and I wait until the kiss is over before I add, “You know they’re never going to get together, right?”

  She grumbles under her breath. “They’re great together. Better than anyone else.”

  “The writers have made it perfectly clear that they’re just friends. She’s trying to set him up with other women through the whole movie.”

  “That’s because she’s trying to keep him in the friend zone. She’s trying to talk herself into it, but I think there’s more there.”

  “It’s never going to happen.”

  “You’re a buzzk
ill. You know that, right?”

  “Just telling it like it is. If you’re holding out hope for that pairing, you’re going to be disappointed. They’re just friends.”

  “They’re totally in sync. Just look at how well they fight together. That’s more than friendship. They’d make each other happy.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “They’ve got the best foundation. Plus they’d be so sexy together.”

  “Never going to happen. You might as well find some fan fiction to read and satisfy yourself with that.”

  “I’ve already read all the fan fiction, and I’m still not satisfied. The movies are wrong. They’re supposed to be together.” The first round of credits are running on the screen now, and she still hasn’t turned to look at me. She’s leaning forward, resting her elbows on her thighs, and my eyes slip down to where the dark jeans she’s wearing are riding so low I can see the lace of her little red panties.

  I look away quickly since I really don’t need to be visualizing her underwear. I don’t think about Courtney that way.

  “Are they together in any of the comic books?” she asks, still watching for the after-credits scene.

  I think about it before I answer. “Not that I remember.”

  “Nothing? Not in all the different storylines and permutations?”

  “There’s a kids’ movie where they have a son.”

  “What? Really?”

  “Yeah. They get together and have a son. But they’re not in the movie at all. It’s about the children. And it’s not anything close to canon.”

  “But still... I want to see it. Do you have it?”

  “Do I have it? It’s just a stupid kids’ cartoon movie. I don’t own every single little thing connected to comic books in the world, you know.”

  “So you’re saying you don’t have it?” She gives me that teasing, over-the-shoulder look that makes my heart skip stupidly.

  I sigh and roll my eyes. She knows me way too well. “Yes, I have it.”

  “Good. I’ll come over to watch it tomorrow.” She turns off the TV after the final scene concludes and stands up. “I need to run back to my place to pee and get my purse.”

  I groan and grab my keys as I follow her out into the hallway. “Why didn’t you bring it with you? We’re going to be late.”

  “No, we’re not.”

  “We have to take the bus. It’s going to take longer than if you drove.”

  “Well, my car is getting fixed, so we don’t have a choice. I’ll be two minutes. Just hold your horses.”

  When we get into her apartment, she runs to the bathroom, and I amuse myself by picking up the cereal bowl and coffee cup she must have used for breakfast. I carry them to the sink and rinse them out before I turn toward a pinboard on the wall she’s covered in black and white fabric and decorated with black ribbon. She’s got a few appointment cards pinned to it, but it’s mostly printed photos of her friends.

  I know all of them now—except one very good-looking Asian guy who is evidently a childhood friend of hers. The rest of the photos are people I know and like. It’s a strange feeling. All her friends are mine as well.

  I’m not even sure how it’s happened.

  For six months after I first met her, we only talked in the hallway. I’d say hi every time I saw her, and she’d stop and chat for a few minutes. We were neighbors and nothing else. One evening, we had a forty-five minute conversation in my doorway because I was too awkward to invite her in and she wouldn’t go away.

  Then she asked me to her twenty-first birthday party, and that’s when everything changed.

  I stressed about that party for a week, and I almost didn’t go at all. But I was afraid it would hurt her feelings if I bailed, and I wasn’t going to risk that.

  There were sixteen people there, and only a few of them were undergrads. They were an eclectic assortment of ages and races and genders and personalities—people Courtney had collected over the past couple of years and attached herself to. The youngest was a junior in college named Chad, an English major, coffee shop type who had an obvious crush on Courtney that she was oblivious to. The oldest was a twenty-seven-year-old university librarian named Tish who was even quieter than me.

  We played silly party games and ate pizza and birthday cake. Then Courtney made us all watch the first episode of her favorite TV show on Netflix while she narrated each scene to prove why her favorite couple was destined for each other.

  It was the first time in my life when I’ve been in a group of people and felt like I actually belonged there. I liked this motley assortment of individuals, and they seemed to like me.

  So somehow her friends became mine.

  Since then, Courtney and I have been hanging out more often, but tonight is the first time we’ve had a double date.

  Not that she’ll ever call it a date.

  One thing I know about Courtney is that she never, ever dates. She’ll occasionally hang out with a guy—which I understand to mean going out with him and having no-strings-attached sex—but she never lets it become serious. From what I’ve gathered over the past several months, her relationships never last more than a few weeks.

  She’s a romantic at heart, but all her romantic inclinations are channeled into fictional couples. She doesn’t want it for herself.

  I still don’t know what happened to her dad. She refuses to talk about it. But I know it messed her up. I’ve met people who are genuinely not interested in romance. They’re happy that way. But Courtney is different. There’s a wound in her life that’s holding her back.

  I know all about wounds, so I never pressure her or expect her to change. We do what we need to survive, and this is how she’s managed it.

  I’ve been scanning the photos on her board, and my eyes linger on one of her and me. Someone else took it when a group of us were hanging out in her apartment one Saturday night. She’s grinning up at me with her normal radiance, her hand on my chest, and I’m giving her a skeptical look with arched eyebrows and just a little bit of a smile on the corners of my mouth.

  It looks like us. Exactly like us.

  It makes my chest feel tight. I reach up to straighten the photo.

  “That’s my favorite,” Courtney says from behind me. “You’ve got your know-it-all look, pretending not to smile when you secretly are. Vintage Shipley.”

  I turn around to respond, but the words break off unspoken as I get a good look at her.

  She’s wearing dark jeans that make her look even curvier than normal, the same ones she had on earlier. But she’s changed into ankle boots with heels and a black top with a deep V-neck and sleeves that end at the elbow. She has one dark red streak in her hair.

  “What?” she asks, frowning at me. “Don’t I look good?”

  “You look great,” I manage to say.

  “Oh. Good. You look pretty good yourself.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I mean it. You’ve got a whole hipster, hot thing going on with your skinny jeans and your sweater-vest. I like it.” She takes a few steps over so she’s right in front of me. “But let me fix your hair a little.”

  “What’s wrong with my hair? I washed it.”

  “I know you did. It’s still damp. Or did you put some sort of product in it.” She’s reached up and is combing her fingers through my hair.

  “I was trying to tame it a little.”

  “It doesn’t need to be tamed. And slicked back like this makes you look too hard.”

  I frown. “Hard?”

  “Yeah. Hard. Or something. You need your curls to soften you up a little.” She’s smiling as she moves my hair around, and I can smell the vanilla-almond lotion she always wears.

  “I thought my hair is ridiculous.”

  “It is ridiculous. But it’s also you. And if a girl doesn’t like your curls, then she’s not the right girl for you.” She pauses, her fingers still tangled in my hair. “Try to smile when you meet Jenny.”

  “I smile.”
<
br />   “You don’t actually smile very much. And you never smile with people you don’t know. Jenny is really nice. You’ll like her. So try to smile.”

  “Okay.”

  She’s right about me, although I’ve never really thought about it before. I’ve never been much of a smiler. I laugh fairly often, but it’s a dry, ironic laugh that doesn’t involve a smile.

  Before I met Courtney, smiling wasn’t part of my life at all.

  She finally lowers her hand. “There. That’s better. Now let’s go, or we’ll be late.”

  As we leave, I make sure she knows that our lateness is her fault and not mine. I was ready on time.

  THE MOVIE THEATER IS all the way across town. Since her car is in the shop and I still don’t own one, we have to take the bus. We live in a small mountain town that’s home to a large university, so all the rhythms and functions of the community are shaped around the college. Most towns this size wouldn’t have a bus system, but this one does because the students need it.

  The bus is two-thirds of the way full. There aren’t two open seats together, so we move to the back and stand. We have to make it through the campus bus stops before we reach the theater. Several people get off, but more get on at each stop.

  As we approach the last stop on campus, I curse under my breath as I see a swarm of students leaving a building.

  “What?” Courtney asks.

  I nod out the window. “A big lecture class must have just gotten out.” There’s no other explanation for so many people all pouring out of a building. They break off in all different directions, but a lot of them head for the bus stop.

  Dozens of people push their way onto the bus, filling up every empty space.

  “Our timing sucks,” Courtney says. She’s moved closer to me by necessity. As the crowd of people settles into position, she ends up pressed against the front of my body.

  She’s little and soft and curvy and smells like vanilla almond, and I really shouldn’t be this close to her. I don’t think about Courtney that way.

  “You okay?” she asks, evidently noticing as I stiffen my body and try to angle it away from her.