The Friend Zone Fiasco Read Online Crystal Kaswell

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors: Crystal Kaswell Advertisement

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I don't.

And I'm pretty sure she doesn't.

But now she's not worried because she knows I want Val.

"What were you picturing?" she asks. "Sex in the pool?"

I shoot her a really look.

"It doesn't work, you know. The water washes away the friction."

"You think this is my first rodeo?"

"You've had sex in a pool?" she asks.

A memory fills my mind. A woman I dated for a few months in high school. She was aggressive and pretty. Thin and blonde. Sorta like Luna, only shorter, less muscular.

Then I blink and the image shifts to Val. Tall, curvy, dark-haired, dark-eyed, tan, gorgeous Val, naked in the pool, motioning come here.

Not. Going. There. "No comment."

"How?" She arches a brow. "No offense, Dare, but have you ever been in a monogamous relationship?"

"A long time ago."

"Was that when you did it?" she asks.

"What's it matter?"

"You need oil-based lube to make it work. And oil-based lube can cause tears in latex."

"Thanks, Dr. Ruth," I say. Seriously, I'm not an idiot. Not anymore. I know how condoms work. Water-based lube only. And water washes away water-based lube. This is 101 shit. "We didn't finish there."

"So, what, you started in the pool and…"

"Do you need a play-by-play?" I ask.

"Sure. A few mental images will make my afternoon more fun."

No. Any additional mental images will make my afternoon torture. "So you can think of me when you screw your boyfriend?" I ask.

"How'd you know?" She laughs. "Should I tell him how much I want you now or when he gets here?"

I call her bluff. "Depends on whether or not you want to suggest a threesome."

This time, Luna laughs with a tone that says that's so absurd I can't even imagine it. She shakes her head no way and shifts back to the topic at hand. "How did the pool sex go?"

"We took it to the pool house."

"You dated a girl with a pool house?"

I nod.

"Before or after the tattoos?"

"I was seventeen."

"So, after most of them."

Some of them. "Didn't you have a point?" I ask.

"I did, didn't I?" She studies me. "Val. What were you picturing with her?"

"Nothing."

"Bullshit."

I don't have a comeback. "None of your business."

"Do you want to play the who's more stubborn game? I'm good at it," she says.

She is. Even so, I shrug.

She shrugs too. Settles into her chair. Waits. "Clothes on or off?"

"Whose clothes?"

"Hers?"

"Some on. Some off." Denim shorts on. The bikini top off. Fuck, the thought of Val in only denim shorts—

"Go on," she says.

No. I'm too far gone already. I see it vividly—Val in my lap, in only her denim shorts, her legs wrapped around my waist, her perfect tits in my hands as I slip my tongue into her mouth. "We were making out, that's it," I say. "Not that exciting." I'm not excited. There is blood left in my brain. If I say it enough times, I might believe it.

"Aw, that's sweet. You like her so much you want to make out."

Is it really sweet to want to tease someone until they beg for your dick? I've never heard that take.

I close my eyes and channel unsexy thoughts. The guy who lives next door who plays some shooter game way too loud. He's annoying. That's not hot.

Okay. There. I can speak. "I want her, yeah, but that's it."

Luna doesn't accept the suggestion we end the conversation. She makes a yeah right noise, sits up a little straighter, removes her sunglasses, and looks me dead in the eyes. "Let's do a hypothetical."

"Why?" I ask.

"How about this? If you do it, I'll drop it."

Fine. I need her to drop it. "Swear on something."

"I swear on my love of Billie Eilish." She offers her hand. After we shake, she continues. "Okay, close your eyes."

I do.

"I know you're going to object, but try it first."

"Fine."

"Picture yourself in a suit."

"Why would I wear a suit?"

"Dare!"

"What color?"

"Darren Dickson!"

A laugh spills from my lips. It's fun to rile Luna. And it's got nothing to do with whether or not I want to screw Val. Which makes it exactly what I need.

But this isn't about sex either. I'm in clothes. No sex there.

I let the image form. The suit I wore to Brian's graduation.

"I rock navy," I say.

She makes a so-so noise and continues, "You're standing on the sand, next to your brother and Tricky, of course."

There's a picture of Brian and I in suits at Mom's house. Something from dinner after his graduation. But Tricky? I can't picture him in summer wool. Only his usual leather jacket and jeans getup.

"You're nervous but you're excited. Then music starts and you just feel it. She's here. And you see her. Radiant in a white dress, smiling the stupidest, happiest smile in the history of the world."

That explains the suits. But it's ridiculous. A fantasy. "This is your vision of weddings?"

"Who is it?"

"Nobody. I'd never get married."

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