CourtShip (Best Friends Book 1) Read online

  “He forced himself on—”

  “Not like that. Don’t get all white knight on me. I took care of it. He wasn’t really... really forcing himself on me. But I had to push him away. I hate confrontation like that. I hate it. That’s why I lost it on you when I first got here. I know maybe this shouldn’t be a huge deal, but it feels like a huge deal to me.”

  “It is a big deal. No wonder you were so upset.” I make myself relax because Courtney doesn’t need me to go find Chad and beat him up. I probably could. I’m bigger than him. But that’s not what she needs me to do, and it would be pretty stupid. I reach over and put an arm around her, and she leans against me, nestling into my side in a way that proves that this is what she wanted all along.

  “I thought he was my friend,” she whispers into my shirt.

  “He probably thought he was too. He just wanted it to be more. Guys don’t always think with their heads in those situations.”

  “I know. But I’ve told him over and over again. I don’t fuck my friends. I never fuck my friends. It’s the surest way to lose them.”

  I’m still worried about Courtney, the concern a knot in my chest. But her raspy words stab through the worry, hurting me in an entirely different way.

  I haven’t been thinking about Courtney as anything but a friend for the past year. I’ve been dating other people, and I’ve also been focusing on building real friendships for the first time in my life. Not just with Courtney but with the others who hang out with us.

  But hearing her tell me the truth so clearly feels different, feels final.

  She never fucks her friends.

  That includes me.

  She adjusts my arm around her more securely and nuzzles just above my heart. “Promise me you’ll never do that to me, Shipley.”

  “Do what?”

  “Decide you want to fuck me and ruin everything we have.”

  It is final.

  It means a door is closed completely, for good. I hear the latch click softly in my mind, and it hurts.

  It hurts.

  But this woman means more to me than anyone ever has, and I’d do anything to keep her, anything to make her happy.

  Including this.

  “I promise,” I murmur, pressing a kiss into her soft hair.

  “Thank you. I can deal with losing Chad. It hurts, but it’s not the end of the world. But I don’t think I could stand to lose you.”

  “You won’t. I promise. CourtShip is here to stay.”

  That makes her smile, just as I intend it to.

  “You better not find a job on the other side of the country and move away from me,” she says.

  It’s a real possibility. Job searches in academia are national searches. I’ve almost finished my dissertation, and I’ve applied for assistant professor positions all over the country. I hate the thought of moving away from her as much as she does.

  “If you move,” she adds, “you better be prepared for me to come with you.”

  She’s teasing. I think.

  I actually wouldn’t mind if she isn’t teasing.

  “They’ve told me I’m a finalist for that postdoc fellowship here. I think there’s a good chance I’ll get it. That will keep me here for two more years after I finish the PhD.”

  “Good. That’s what I’m hoping for.”

  “Me too.”

  I can’t even imagine moving right now. Losing Courtney would be the worst, but I’d also lose all my other friends, and they’re not insignificant to me.

  I never thought I’d be in the position of making decisions based on my social group, but I am. Courtney matters as much to me as my career.

  She’s small and warm and soft against me. She smells like vanilla almond. She’s a perfect paradox, an irresistible contradiction. Fragile and strong at the same time. Innocent and jaded. Too young and too old for her age. Wearing her sexuality like a piece of clothing that she can put on or take off as she wants. Both damaged and resilient.

  She loves more purely and more deeply than anyone I’ve ever known.

  I’ll do anything to keep her. Even vow to never have her in all the ways I want.

  I clear my throat since I’m feeling too emotional and I don’t want her to know. “Okay. Why don’t you go wash your face, and I’ll make some popcorn, and we can watch a movie?”

  “Are you sure? You don’t want to call Melissa and tell her to come back over?”

  “Melissa and I broke up tonight.”

  “What?” Her eyes widened with distress. “Oh no, Shipley! Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It just happened, and I think you were more upset than I was. It’s okay. It wasn’t traumatic. I’ll call her tomorrow, and we can talk some more, but it’s definitely over.”

  “I’m so sorry. What happened?”

  “It just wasn’t working.”

  “Was she still nagging you about opening up?”

  “Yes, but she was right about it. If she’s my girlfriend, I should be able to open up with her.”

  “Well, she should be more patient. It’s not always easy for people. I’ve been working on you for two years, and you still don’t spill everything to me.”

  I smile at this. “I’m not really a spiller.”

  “I know you’re not.” She leans over to kiss me on the cheek, just above my jaw. “That’s okay. I like you just the way you are.”

  “Uh-huh.” My tone is dry the way it usually is.

  “I do like you the way you are. I like your brains and your sense of humor and the way you always try to take care of people and the way you accept people as they are without trying to change them. And I like your freckles and your brown eyes and your ridiculous hair.” She reaches over to ruffle my hair with a fond smile. “And your arms.”

  “My arms?” My eyebrows arch at that.

  “You’ve got very good arms.”

  I’m smiling like an idiot now. “I didn’t know that.”

  She giggles. “I like that about you too. That you have no idea how hot you are.”

  “I thought you always called me a nerd.”

  “I do. You are a nerd. But you’re a very hot nerd.” She wraps her arms around me and gives me a squeeze before she gets up. “Okay. I’m going to the bathroom. You get the popcorn. And we’ll find something comforting to watch since both of us need it tonight.”

  I make the popcorn and change into sweats and a T-shirt before I come back to the couch. We decide to rewatch an animated television show we both like, and we start from the first episode. Courtney gets excited as she squees over all the hints that two of the characters are secretly together from the very beginning—well hidden since the show is partly aimed at kids—and how they’re the best romantic relationship the franchise every created.

  By the second episode, Courtney is sprawled out on the couch with her head in my lap, and I’m idly stroking her hair. By the fourth episode, both of us are stretched out, my front pressed into her back and one of my arms draped around her. We don’t normally lounge around all tangled together like this, but Courtney is particularly touchy tonight, and the closeness feels good to me too.

  We both doze off eventually, and I wake up after midnight to the screensaver on my television.

  I don’t click it away. Courtney is still in my arms, and I can’t help but like her there.

  I realize as I feel her small body against mine that Melissa was right to not be satisfied with our relationship. I want to hold Courtney like this a lot more than I ever wanted to hold Melissa.

  And that’s wrong.

  It’s just wrong.

  It wasn’t fair to Melissa.

  I suddenly remember something she said, that there was someone I wanted to open up to more than I did her.

  She was talking about Courtney. Of course she was. And she was absolutely right.

  Courtney is the only person I’ve ever told about my mother’s drug problems. The way I had to be the parent to her from the time I was eight years ol
d, trying to take care of my mom instead of the other way around. She’s the only person I’ve ever told about my mother overdosing, how I found her dead on the couch. How a little part of me was relieved, even as I grieved.

  She’s the only person with whom I feel safe enough to let down my guard completely. No wonder Melissa had a problem with it. Any girlfriend would.

  I’m not sure what I can do about it though.

  Courtney is just as damaged as I am. She’s cut herself off from romantic relationships, which means our friendship is never going to get deeper than it is right now.

  I don’t care.

  I’m not going to lose her.

  I’ll love her exactly as she is since that’s how she loves me.

  I don’t have to have everything.

  What I have is more than enough.

  Four

  One month ago

  WE’RE ALL HANGING OUT at a nearby bar on a Saturday night.

  The “all” includes Courtney and me and five of our friends. It’s almost eleven now, and I’m on my third beer. This one is going to be my last.

  Courtney has had three too, and she’s on her way up to the bar for another.

  I know why she’s drinking more tonight than she normally does.

  Tonight is exactly three years since we met for the first time, and I doubt she even remembers that fact. Because tonight is another anniversary for her.

  The day her father died.

  She hasn’t said a word about it, but it’s not like I’m ever going to forget. I can see that she’s trying extra hard to have fun tonight. I understand. I hope the alcohol dulls the pain at least a little.

  Not all that much has changed since last year. Courtney still refuses to consider romantic relationships—although she hasn’t had any casual sex for the past several months as far as I can tell. I tried dating two different women after Melissa, but neither relationship got going because neither of the women, as great as they were, could come close to reaching Courtney’s place in my life.

  Courtney is still working at the community center. She’s been promoted to assistant director, and she clearly loves her job. I’ve got one more year left in my postdoc fellowship, which means I have only one year left before I need to find a job.

  Eventually I’m going to have to move. There’s almost no chance of my finding a position that would let me stay in town. Courtney and I never talk about it, but I can’t imagine leaving her behind. I might as well tear off one of my limbs.

  I have no idea what I’m going to do when the time finally comes.

  I push the bleak thought away for now. My mind is pleasantly buzzed from the alcohol, and everyone is having a good time.

  My eyes linger on Courtney as she stands up by the bar with Tish’s girlfriend, Kelly, who went up with her for more drinks. Tonight Courtney is wearing worn jeans that hug her curves and a sleeveless white top with lace on the straps and the neckline. The outfit makes the most of her figure, and I can’t help admiring the full curve of her breasts, the lush shape of her ass in the faded denim. Her hair is its natural red-gold, hanging down in a shiny fall to the middle of her back.

  She’s grinning up at Kelly and completely oblivious to all the male attention she’s getting.

  When my focus returns to the corner booth where we’re all crowded in, I notice that Tish is watching me. I smile at her easily, and she smiles back. She’s been one of my good friends since I first met her at Courtney’s twenty-first birthday party.

  I don’t have time to ask her why she was staring at me because Courtney and Kelly return with their hands full of drinks. They pass them around—to everyone except Todd and me, a graduate student in music who plays the cello and who recently started hanging out with us. He’s the designated driver tonight for everyone who can’t walk home.

  Kelly goes to sit next to Tish, and Courtney squeezes into the booth next to me.

  Todd finishes telling us a hilarious story about a very awkward date he went on last weekend, and everyone roars with laughter.

  I laugh too. It’s a funny story, and Todd tells it well. But my eyes keep moving to Courtney’s face. Her expression is strained beneath her smile. I’m not sure the beer is helping.

  I put a casual arm around her, and she leans against me. I don’t think anyone else will notice since we sit this way fairly often. But it feels like Courtney needs support, so I’m going to give it to her.

  As we talk and laugh and drink, Courtney nestles even closer to me, wrapping one arm around my stomach and fisting her hand in my shirt.

  It makes my chest hurt. To feel how fragile and needy she is right now, even in the midst of a rowdy bar.

  I wonder if I should just take her home.

  She won’t let me, so I don’t even ask. I stroke her hair and slide my hand down to rub her lower back.

  “I think Courtney’s going to go to sleep any minute right in Shipley’s lap,” Kelly says with a smile in a lull in conversation.

  Everyone turns to look at her, and Courtney manages an exaggerated scowl without lifting her head from my chest. “I’m not sleeping. I’m snuggling.”

  “I think you’re the only one who Shipley will ever allow to snuggle like that.” That’s April, who works in a nearby coffee shop. She’s been hanging out with us for a couple of years, and she was interested in me for a while. I had to tell her it would never work, and fortunately we managed to remain friends.

  “It’s true. I’m not known for snuggling,” I say dryly.

  “You’re a good snuggler,” Courtney says, rubbing her cheek against my shirt. “I just had to teach you how.”

  She did teach me how.

  She taught me almost everything about being with other people.

  The conversation moves on from there, and after a while there’s an exodus from the booth—a few people going home with Todd and a couple going to the bathroom. Tish and I are left at the table by ourselves. I finish off my beer as I watch Courtney walk to the bathroom with Kelly.

  She’s still smiling, but I can tell she’s tired. I need to take her home soon.

  She whirls around suddenly and catches my eyes, making a face and inclining her head toward a couple who have started to dance to a popular song that just came on. This is not a dancing kind of bar, so the dancing couple stands out and draws a lot of eyes.

  I know what Courtney is silently saying to me. That we should join them.

  I roll my eyes since she knows very well I don’t dance, and I certainly won’t do it in a setting like this.

  She gives me a teasing smile and rolls her hip provocatively while I slant her an ironic, exasperated look that makes her giggle.

  She’s still laughing as she disappears into the ladies’ room.

  When she’s out of sight, I glance over and see that Tish is watching me again.

  “What?” I ask, with only a slight edge of defensiveness. I like and trust Tish, but she’s definitely got something in mind as she’s looking at me like that.

  “When are you going to do something?”

  I arch my eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”

  She’s just as reserved as I am until she gets to know people, but we’re generally pretty open with each other now. She nods toward the bathroom. “When are you going to do something about that?”

  I know what she’s talking about now.

  She’s talking about Courtney.

  “There’s nothing to do,” I say carefully.

  “Sure there is. I’ve been waiting for you two to get together for a couple of years now.”

  “Not going to happen.”

  “You love her.”

  The words stab me through the chest, and I’m not sure why. “Of course I love her. We’re friends.”

  “I just watched you have an entire conversation with her without saying any words at all. I’ve never seen two people as close as you and Courtney are. You’re more than friends.”

  I swallow over a rising tension in my throa
t. “Maybe. But there’s never been anything sexual between us.”

  “But you’d like there to be.”

  I have to think before I answer. I don’t want to snap at Tish, but I’m on the defensive now because what she’s saying hits so close to what’s hard to even admit to myself. “It doesn’t matter. She’s not open to that.”

  “Have you asked her?”

  “I can’t ask her. She’s made me promise that I’ll never ask to fuck her.” The word sounds wrong. Too rough, too crude for what Courtney and I could be together. But that’s the word Courtney used a year ago, and so that’s the word I use now.

  “And you think she still means it?”

  “You know how she is.” My voice is too gravelly, so I intentionally keep it soft. “She means it. She’ll never open herself up to that. She’ll only have sex with people she doesn’t care that much about.”

  “And you don’t think she can change, she can heal?”

  “I hope she can heal, but I can’t ever ask her.”

  Tish leans over so she’s looking me square in the face. “Why not, Shipley? You guys are a done deal, a matching set. You’re made for each other. Everyone who knows you can see it.”

  “If I ask her for more, I’m going to lose her.” I’m having trouble breathing now, the hard truth of what I’m saying aching in my chest and my throat. “And I won’t just lose her. She’s the one who collected all of us. She’s the one who holds us together. If I lose her, I’ll lose all of you too.”

  Tish is silent now, reaching over to put a hand on my forearm.

  I stare down at my mostly empty glass of beer and say in a hoarse whisper, “If I lose her, I’ll lose everything.”

  “Shit, Shipley,” Tish says after a tense moment of silence. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine,” I say with a faint smile. “I’m used to it. I’m happier now than I’ve ever been before. I don’t need to be happier than this.”

  I’ve lived for the past year knowing what I really want. I’m not hiding from the truth anymore. But when you’ve loved someone you can’t have for so long, you get used to the vacancy, the empty spot in your heart. It’s your constant companion, and you learn how to shape all your other emotions around it so it doesn’t always feel so raw.