“Today is the day!” I singsong as I make my way through Breaker’s apartment to his bedroom, where the curtains are drawn and he’s still in bed. Just a lump of a human sprawled across his mattress. “Good morning!”
“Grrrrrrr,” he growls into his pillow.
“Time to rise and shine,” I say while I fling open his curtains, flooding his room with the brilliantly bright California sun. “It’s date day.”
“Which is not until tonight, so why are you bothering me now?” he groans while placing his pillow over his head.
I turn to face him and spot part of his ass cheek hanging out for the world to see. “My God!” I say, covering my eyes. “Your butt is showing.”
“That’s what you get for walking in on me. You know I sleep naked.” He adjusts his blankets.
“How would I know that?”
“You’re my best friend. You should know everything about me.” His voice is muffled by the pillow, but I can still understand him. “Like I know that if I were to remove this pillow, I would find you in a pair of bike shorts, some random Zelda shirt, and your hair clipped up because you can’t have it touching your neck so early in the morning.” He moves the pillow to the side to get a look at me, and when he knows he’s right, he smirks and puts the pillow back.
“That was a lucky guess.”
“Not a guess.” He pokes his head. “All knowledge up here. Let me guess, you also ordered breakfast to lessen the blow of waking me up, and it will be here in five minutes. You ordered pancakes because you’ve been craving them. Still, you didn’t get them from your favorite place because you know I prefer the breakfast burrito from Salty’s. Hence, you caved and ordered from there despite them not having the maple-walnut syrup you love so much.”
“You know, it’s unflattering to be a know-it-all.”
His chest rumbles with a laugh. “Not trying to flatter you, so no problem there.” On a loud sigh, he raises his hands above his head and says, “Toss me my shorts.”
I walk over to his dresser, where a pair of shorts are folded, and I hand them to him. He slips them under the bed, and I watch him shimmy into them without showing off any skin. He then flips the covers off him and sits on the edge of the bed. His hand presses into his eye as he attempts to wake himself up.
I just stand there and stare.
Breaker is a far cry from the man I once met.
In that dorm hallway, he was tall, lanky, and had enough shaggy hair on the top of his head to be mistaken for a Yorkshire Terrier. Now, well, not so lanky anymore. Broad shoulders with sinew wrapping around them, flowing down his biceps that are thick but not in a bodybuilder way. He’s strong, fit, with enormous pecs and a pair of abs that quite frankly I’m jealous of. And his hair is no longer shaggy, more like perfectly cut to look messy, but it really isn’t. And instead of his pasty white complexion from being inside nonstop studying, he is a beautiful bronze from running outside with his shirt off.
I’ve never truly ogled my best friend, but . . . I can admit he has a really nice body.
Like . . . really nice.
“This burrito better be good,” he says as he stands, completely missing the fact that I just checked him out. Thank God for that. He works his way toward the bathroom, where he shuts the door. I leave him to his business and head out to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee for us. He always carries the dark chocolate raspberry coffee that I love. He says he can’t taste the flavor, only smell it, but I can taste all the raspberry goodness, it’s why it’s my favorite.
“I can smell the raspberry from here,” Breaker says as he stands at the doorway of his kitchen, scratching his chest, a lopsided grin playing at his lips.
My eyes travel down his chest, to the V in his hips that is shown off by his low-hanging shorts.
Okay . . . really, really nice body.
Not sure if he’s kicked up his workout routine lately or what, but he’s uh . . . he’s looking good.
I turn away and hide the slight blush of my cheeks as I say, “It’s potent because I haven’t unleashed it in a while.”
“When was the last time you had breakfast here?” he asks as he takes a seat on the counter.
“I don’t know, we’ve been doing dinners more lately.”
“Yeah, because you spend a lot of weekend nights over at Brian’s, and I’m usually rushing around in the morning on weekdays looking to get to work. I don’t have time for casual breakfasts.”
I turn to face him and lean against the counter. “Well, now that you’re on sabbatical, you have all the time in the world.”
“Maybe this time will give me a moment to get to know . . . Birdy.” He wiggles his eyebrows, making me laugh.
“You know, I cyberstalked her last night.”
“Did you really? What did you come up with?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Yeah, I would.” He nods at me. “Come on, spill. Tell me what I’m getting myself into tonight.”
I grab my phone from the counter, and while the coffee brews, I show Breaker the screenshots I took last night for this very purpose—to share with him.
“Okay, first of all, she’s really pretty.”
“Looks aren’t everything, but that’s a bonus. Let me see.” I show him a picture of her in a skintight light pink dress with a sunset behind her. Her hair is long and curled, and she’s holding a champagne glass. Surprisingly, I see his eyes widen. “Wow, okay, yeah. She’s beautiful.”
I pause and say, “But she’s a blonde.”
“Yeah, think I can get over that.” He smirks at me. “What else do you have?”
Feeling weird because I didn’t think he would have that kind of reaction, I go back to the screenshots on my phone. I don’t know, I knew he was going to think she was pretty because it’s obvious, but his reaction suggests he’s actually interested.
Why is that a bad thing in my head?
It shouldn’t be.
I guess this whole situation is just weird, is all. Breaker doesn’t date that much. He’s taken girls out, had one-night stands, but an actual girlfriend, not really.
“So, uh, she really likes baseball. She loves the Chicago Rebels. Not sure who they are, but she has some fan page dedicated to a player’s butt.”
“Which means she’s a butt person. That bodes well for me, as I have a nice ass.”
“Do you?”
“Oh please,” he scoffs. “You know I do, and don’t even try to deny it. What else do you have on her?”
Not that I’ve looked, but he does. An annoyingly nice butt.
“She likes . . . get this . . . romantic comedies.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
I study him, truly study him. “Breaker, they’re so cliché.”
“For a reason,” he says. “They bring joy to people. I know Kelsey and Lottie are obsessed with them. They’ve changed my mind. I can see the appeal. Something about having hope at the end of a story, knowing that it’s all going to end well, makes you feel all warm and cozy inside.”
I set my phone down, cross my arms over my chest, and ask, “What have you done with my best friend? You hate romantic comedies.”
He hops off the counter and says, “People can change, Lia. It’s okay. The world won’t fall apart.” He smirks and then pulls me into a hug. “Are you jealous I’m going out with this girl tonight?”
“What?” I pull away. “Why on earth would I be jealous?”
He lets me go just as a knock sounds on the door. The food is here.
“Because you’re supposed to be the only woman in my life, right?”
“Well, yes. Of course.”
He laughs and presses a quick kiss to my head before grabbing the food. “Don’t worry, Lia, you’ll always be my best friend.” He turns toward me and then adds, “But you can’t offer me benefits, and a guy has needs.” His smirk makes me believe he’s joking.
I push at his bare chest. “Ew, gross. Don’t be that guy.”
“Lia, I’ve always been that guy, but you just don’t see it because you’d give me shit.”
He sets the food out on the table, and I say, “So you think you’ll like her? Go out with her?” I lean in and whisper. “Have sex?”
“Jumping the gun a bit, but I’m open. And I mean, she’s really pretty. Who knows, maybe I’ll be taking her as my date to your wedding. Maybe she’ll catch the bouquet, maybe I’ll catch the garter, and we’ll have a whirlwind romance where Bertha, Bernard, and Barabbas aren’t just a thought but a reality.”
“All because of Brian. Could you imagine?”
“Honestly, I can’t, but I’m just going with the flow at this point.”
“And why exactly?” I ask, popping open the container to my pancakes.
He looks up at me from where he’s unfolding his burrito from the foil. “Because I want to make sure you’re happy, Lia. I know how stressed you are about all of this, and if I can ease some of that stress, then I’m going to do that for you.”
“You don’t have to ease the stress by going out with Birdy.”
“It’s one date, and it’s more for Brian than anything.”
I eye him suspiciously. “And when have you ever started doing things for Brian?”
“Since he’s going to be your husband and . . . and I don’t want to lose you,” he says quietly.
I pause, my head tilting to the side. Is he serious? When I study him for a moment and take in the way his shoulders curve inward and the dip in his posture, I can tell he is. “What? Breaker, you’re not going to lose me.”
He sets his burrito down and faces me. “Lia, we have to be real about this. In five weeks, things are really going to change. You’re no longer going to live next to me. You’re going to be occupied with your new life, and sure, I know you won’t forget me, but I don’t want there to be any reason for there to be distance between us other than actual distance. I don’t want to give Brian a reason to put a wedge between us.”
“I wouldn’t let him,” I say.
“I know, but if I don’t get along with him, that could hurt your marriage. There could be resentment, so yeah, I’m going to do something for him. Sure, because I know if I do this little thing for him, I won’t run the risk of not getting to hang out with you.” Breaker’s busy, so we don’t get to see each other daily. But so far, since I’ve been going out with Brian, there hasn’t been much disruption to how much time we spend with each other. But the idea that we won’t just be able to walk a few steps out our front doors to get to each other is startling.
“Do you really think life will change that much? I mean . . . you could always move close.” I smile. “Your brothers live across the street. That could be us.”
He tilts his head to the side. “Are you . . . asking me to follow you?”
His teasing tone causes me to roll my eyes. I pick up the syrup that came with my pancakes and drench them. “Not if you’re going to be obnoxious about it, but yes, it doesn’t have to be a straight cut-off when I get married. Brian understands our relationship, and who knows, if things work out with Birdy, maybe we can continue to go on double dates. And on those double dates, we can annoy them with our history by talking about all the college fun we had while they just sit there and stare at us.”
“And when you say college fun, you really mean all the nerdy and embarrassing things we still do today.”
I place a bite of pancakes in my mouth. “Precisely.”
“LIA, YOU READY?” Breaker asks, knocking on the door.
I check myself one more time in the mirror and make sure everything is in place.
Let’s be real for a second. I’m not one who often goes all out when it comes to gussying up. I prefer minimal makeup because I don’t like how it cakes on my glasses. I don’t curl my hair often, and if I have a choice between jean shorts and a dress, I always choose jean shorts, but tonight, I felt the need to . . . spice it up.
I know what you’re thinking. It’s because Birdy is so pretty, right?
Well, you would be wrong. Birdy has nothing to do with this. I thought I would try to match the level of gorgeousness of my ring.
I know you don’t believe me, but that’s the reason, the ring. Not Birdy and her beautiful long blond hair or her long black eyelashes or the fact that she has such a nice pair of boobs that mine look like corn nuts in comparison.
This is all about the ring.
I smooth my hand down my purple tube dress that just so happens to match my glasses. It also accentuates my curves—what little curves I have. I spent an hour curling my hair, and then I brushed out the curls because that was what the girl on the YouTube tutorial told me to do, and she was right. It’s made my hair all wavy and pretty. And my makeup, well, I made sure to highlight my eyes with mascara and then put on a subtle lipstick that wouldn’t clash with my dress, more accentuate it.
I’m pretty sure Brian is not going to recognize me. Maybe this is a good thing, spice things up before we get married and show him exactly what he’s hitching himself to.
Clutch in hand, I open my front door and nearly choke on my own saliva as Breaker comes into view.
This is . . . this is not the Breaker I know, who wears old junky Jack Skellington T-shirts and backward hats because he’s too lazy to worry about his hair.
This is a different Breaker.
Sophisticated.
Date Breaker.
Wearing a pinstripe gray suit and deep black button-up with the top few buttons undone, he looks so freaking good, like he belongs in a magazine. His pants are tight around his thighs but loosen up around his calves and ankles where the fabric stops. He’s wearing loafers with no socks, and his hair is styled to the side in a messy way, giving him a sultry look that I wasn’t expecting. And that tan chest, peeking out through the buttons of his shirt, so easily reveals the slightest hint of corded muscle that identifies him as a man who spends a great deal of time in the gym.
His suit fits him like a glove, not an inch to spare of fabric.
Handsome.
Sexy.
Arousing.
All the adjectives that come to mind.
“Wow, Lia,” he says, taking me in and pulling on the back of his neck. “Shit, you look really good.”
I’m snapped back into reality as I glance down at my dress and black high heels and then back up at him. “Oh, thank you. I, uh, I thought I would match the fanciness of my ring.” I hold it out to show him as if he hasn’t seen it before. “See? Fancy. And I’m fancy. We’re all fancy.”
His brow creases. “You okay?”
“Yes, great. Thank you. Just telling you I’m fancy.”
He chuckles. “All right, well, glad we established that.” He holds his arm out for me. “Ready to go?”
“Yeah, of course. So ready. Never been more ready. Just the most ready, so let’s get this show on the road.”
“You’re being weird,” he says as I lock up and then walk arm in arm with him toward the elevator.
Maybe because you look really good.
And smell nice.
And have a sense of suave circling you that I wasn’t prepared to see.
“No, I’m not. Can’t a friend just tell another friend how fancy they feel? Is that a crime?”
“Not that I’m aware of, but I can google it if you want me to.”
I take a deep breath and step onto the elevator with him. His cologne’s so heavy that it makes me feel dizzy in an odd, perplexing way.
I’ve never seen him like this because he’s always been secretive about who he takes out, how he dates, and everything about his sexual life. Whenever I’ve asked before, he’s been blasé about it, not diving too deep, never showing emotion or interest in the topic. But seeing him like this, it’s all so different.
“Why have you always been secretive?” I nearly shout.
“Err, what?” he asks, letting go of my arm and facing me as we descend to the main lobby of our apartment complex.
“With dating, you’ve never talked about it. You’ve never told me anything about the women you see. Why is that?”
“Where is this coming from?” he asks as the elevator doors part. Breaker’s car is waiting out front, the valet with key in hand.
I motion to his suit. “This is . . . this is not the Breaker I’m used to. I don’t see you dress like this, all suave and, you know . . . handsome.” I gulp.
And that stupid smirk of his appears as he says, “Yeah, well, I never see you like this either.” He motions to me and says, “All dressed up and . . . beautiful. Normally, I hang out with the troll lady who lives next door and has a penchant for eating green olives straight from the jar.”
My eyes widen, and I push him to the side, causing him to laugh. “I’m not a troll lady.” Now the part about the olives, that’s true.
“Your matted hair the other day told me otherwise.” He tips the valet and then opens the door for me, but when I get in, he doesn’t shut the door right away. He rests his hands on the roof and says, “I don’t talk about it much because there isn’t much to talk about. And I’m not the type of guy who runs around to his friends, telling them about the pussy I scored the night before. But if you so desire, I can start doing that.”
“Do you score a lot?”
“More than you’re probably aware, but since you’re curious, I’ve gone through a bit of a drought as of recently. Just haven’t had time. I think the last woman I was with, if you must know, is your friend Charise, the one you hooked me up with for Huxley’s wedding.”
“Wait, seriously?” I ask. “You hooked up with Charise?”
“A few times.” He winks and then shuts the door on me, leaving me in a state of bewilderment.
When he climbs into his side of the car, I ask, “A few times? Like . . . more than once?”
“That’s usually what a few times means.” He puts the car in drive and pulls away from the apartment building.
“But she never said anything to me. You never said anything to me. How am I supposed to know you’re hooking up with my friend? Did anything come of it?”
“Triplets, actually. Not humans, puppies. She has custody, but I have visitation rights.”
“I’m being serious, Breaker.” I push at his shoulder, causing him to laugh.
“Nah, it was just sex. Neither of us was looking for anything serious, plus there was no connection other than a carnal one.” He wiggles his eyebrows.
“Ew, don’t say carnal.” I fold my arms and sink into my seat while Breaker drives us toward downtown, where Brian made a reservation. “So you’re just out there dating, having a good time, and not telling me about it?”
“Why would I tell you? Just so you can push me and say ew?” he asks in a teasing tone.
“Well, yeah.”
He chuckles. “Thanks, but I think I’ll pass.”
“So tonight, are you going to be all . . . touchy-feely and Date Breaker?”
“If you’re staring me down the whole time, then no. Not sure I can put on the moves when your judgmental glare is directed my way.”
“Judgmental? Nothing about me is judgmental.”
“Ha!” He guffaws. “Lia, you were judging Birdy earlier today when you saw that she likes romantic comedies.”
“Uh, you used to make fun of them until apparently recently, thanks to your sisters-in-law. The question really is, do I even know you at all, Breaker?”
“You tell me.” He grips the steering wheel so he’s only using one hand while the other falls to the armrest, and for a moment, I think about him driving Birdy around. Would he place his hand on her thigh? Would he lace their fingers together? Would he bring their connection to his lips and place a gentle kiss to her perfectly lotioned knuckles? I couldn’t imagine Breaker doing any of this, then again, it’s because I’ve never seen that side of him. Out of all the years we’ve known each other, I’ve never observed him with a woman. “Name my biggest fear.”
“We don’t need to do this,” I say on a sigh.
“Yes, we do.” He pokes my leg. “Come on, what’s my biggest fear? And you’re the only one who knows this.”
“House fire where you can’t get your signed Lord of the Rings memorabilia out of the house fast enough, and you lose it.”
He winces and pats his heart. “Still gets me just thinking about it. My turn, you ask me a question about you.”
“Why are we doing this?”
“To prove to you that we know each other better than any other person and that will never change. So go ahead, ask me a question.”
“Fine. What is my least favorite childhood memory?”
“The day you got your period. You were at a friend’s house for a sleepover and got it in the middle of the night on the sleeping bag you borrowed from your friend. She made you feel bad because you stained it, and then you had to wait for your mom to pick you up. Courtney is a real bitch who I hope burns in hell.”
That makes me smile. “She didn’t have to torment me about the stain, that’s for sure.”
“Yeah, well, hopefully, karma has repaid her in the form of a corn on the bottom of her foot. That shit is painful.”
“One could only hope.”
“Okay, what is my least favorite childhood memory?” he asks.
That’s easy. I remember the day we talked about it. It was our senior year in college. We went to a frat party but ended up chatting on the porch the whole night. We both had a few drinks, but nothing that would impair our cognitive behavior. He leaned back on his hands and told me all about the day he lost his dad.
“When your dad passed away,” I answer softly. “And how you wish you told him you loved him more than you did. How you regret not saying that to him enough. I remember that like it was yesterday because I clung to that and always told my parents I loved them after that.”
He slowly nods. “And you’re the only person who knows that. I never told my brothers. I never told another soul. So I might not talk about the menial things like the girls I take out or hook up with because it has no value to our friendship. But the important things? Those are the things I tell you about, and that’s what should matter the most.”
“Why are you trying to make me emotional?”
“I’m not trying to make you emotional.” He reaches across the console and grabs my hand. “I’m just trying to tell you that no matter what happens, you will always know me best, and there’s a reason for that. You’re my best friend, Lia. Nothing can come between that. I won’t let it happen. Hence us driving downtown to go on a double date.”
“You’re a really good guy, you know that, Breaker?”
“I try.” His grin stretches from ear to ear. “Now, let me show you a new song that I’ve been simping over.”
“Oh my God, do not say simping. You cannot pull it off.”
“Says who?” he asks with feigned insult.
“Says me.”
“And who made you the authority?”
“I did.”
“Ehh, that’s fair.” He casually shrugs.
I laugh as he cues up his new favorite song. Breaker is right. Nothing can come between us.
Nothing at all.
