Friends with Benefits - Nicole Blanchard Page 0,21

If I was lucky, the twins would be home from school early, and we’d have chaperones. God knew I needed one whenever Ember was around. Preferably more than one.

That way, I wouldn’t be tempted to put my hands on her to see if she felt as good as I remembered.

Maybe she wouldn’t even be home, and I’d text her or something instead. Which is what I should have done instead of knocking on her door. But I had promised her that shit wouldn’t get weird, and I wouldn’t let it.

I could control myself.

At least, that’s what I thought until she opened the door in a thin camisole and yoga pants.

Goddamn those yoga pants.

I began to sweat. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, and I forgot what I was going to say. All I could do was stare.

“Hey!” she said cheerfully. “I was just doing some yoga. Pinterest says it’s the best way to reduce stress.”

“Is it working?” I choked out. Maybe I needed to start yoga. I should talk to Coach about it.

“I guess we’ll see.” Her skin was covered in a sheen of sweat. I wanted to lick it off her. “Did you need something?”

“What? Oh, yeah. My mom emailed. She said we could have dinner tomorrow and talk about her watching your sisters.”

Why was her skin so pink? The flush spread up from her breasts and crept up her neck, a gradient from the lightest red to cream. I wanted to feel the heat of her against my lips. I thought exposure to a stimulant was supposed to make you more resistant. Was I somehow becoming more sensitive to her presence instead?

She made a squeal of surprised delight. “Really? That’s such good news. Hey, maybe this yoga stuff does work! Why don’t you come in, and you can hang out until the twins get home?”

I hesitated in the doorway. Being alone together didn’t seem like a good idea. It was ironic that I’d spent the past few years fantasizing about what I’d like to do with Ember when I got her alone, but now that the opportunity had presented itself, I wanted to run in the opposite direction. Not because I was scared, but because I wasn’t altogether certain I could keep myself from doing all the things I’d imagined doing to her over the years.

“Is something wrong?” she asked as she turned back to me. Her short red ponytail bobbed, the tips of her hair brushing against her neck and along the tops of her shoulders. I was mesmerized. “Tripp?” she prompted when I didn’t answer.

I shook my head. “No, everything’s fine. I’ve got a load of homework to do, though, so maybe I should head back to my place.” The end of my sentence sounded more like a question than a statement.

She scoffed, rolled her eyes, and took my hand, pulling me inside. My feet followed without any encouragement on my part, despite the shouted protests inside my head. I was the one who told her not to make it weird, and here I was, acting like a complete creep.

“You should try yoga, Tripp. You seem stressed enough for the both of us. Practice not going well? How’s your shoulder?”

“It’s alright,” I answered, glossing over the question. “Are you sure you want me to hang around? You’re probably busy with the girls.”

She shoved my shoulder and said with a laugh, “Don’t be silly. Of course I want you to hang around.” At my grimace, she gasped. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

The look hadn’t been because of my previously injured shoulder. It had been because having her hands on me felt electric––like being struck by lightening.

“No, I’m fine. My shoulder’s okay. You seem to be feeling better,” I commented as she went to her TV to pause the yoga video. She gestured for me to sit beside her on the couch.

“I dunno, maybe. If you count shoving everything down and trying not to think about it ‘better,’ then yeah, I’m fabulous.”

Her smile was a little too bright, and it was as though her forced cheerfulness would shatter at the slightest touch. It only drove home the feeling that it’d be wrong to make a move on her.

But, God, how I wanted to.

Instead, I nudged her soulder. “Don’t bullshit me. What’s going on? That dickhead call you again?”

“If I say, ‘I’m fine,’ are you going to ask if I’m sure?”

I found myself playing with her hair. I always