Naughty or Nice: A Friends to Lovers Christmas Romance Page 3

  The door opens easily and when I step inside, I flip on the light. The room smells like fresh laundry so I guess Mom must have washed the bedding. The cream-colored carpet looks soft and clean, but I guess that’s what happens when a room is no longer used on a daily basis anymore. The pink walls are still covered in my posters and pictures I hung years ago. Above my bed is a poster of Mario Lopez. He’s shirtless and flexing while looking directly at the camera. I remember Carson hating that poster when he came to visit from college; the memory makes me laugh.

  Carson just stopped by and it’s the first time he’s been here since leaving for college five months ago. I lead him to my room so we can just sit and hang out. I open my bedroom door and he follows me in, but he stops dead in his tracks when his eyes land on the poster above my bed.

  “What the fuck is that?” he asks, starting at it, completely frozen.

  I look at the poster with a smile. “Uh, Mario Lopez, duh. Don’t mind him. He’s just working out,” I joke.

  He rolls his eyes he moves to sit at my desk while I sit on the bed. “Why is he there? Seems weird.”

  I laugh. “Shut up. It’s just a poster. He’s there because I like to know he’s watching me,” I tease.

  He makes a fake gagging sound. “Seriously, it’s creepy. I think you should take it down.”

  I roll my eyes. “Seriously with the jealousy? We all know you don’t want a real guy around me, so you’re just going to have to settle with a poster.”

  This time he rolls his eyes. “No, seriously. I feel like he’s watching me. It’s like the Mona Lisa. No matter where I go, his eyes are following me.”

  I smile. “I know. I kind of like it.”

  He shakes his head. “You really are a freak, aren’t you?”

  “You can’t be the only guy in my fantasies, Carson.”

  He laughs but he thinks I’m joking. Really, Mario Lopez doesn’t stand a chance against Carson. I’d rather have him any day of the week. “Anyway, what have you been up to lately?”

  I lie back on the bed and notice the way his eyes watch me. This is way better than the poster. “Nothing much. Greg and I have been—” I start, but he cuts me off.

  “Greg? Greg Warren?” he questions.

  I nod. “That’s the one. Why?”

  “You’re dating Greg? My friend Greg?”

  I nod. “Yeah, I mean, I wouldn’t call it dating as much as hanging out and stuff, but—”

  He goes flying out of his seat and starts pacing. “You’re sleeping with Greg?”

  “What? No, we’re not sleeping together. At least, not yet. We’re just…you know, going out, making out, exploring our options and each other’s bodies. With our hands!” I emphasize, highly exaggerating what it is I’ve actually done with Greg. In reality, I’ve never done much of anything besides hold hands and a kiss here and there. “Nothing else. No sex. Why is this bothering you? Seriously, you still act like I’m a little girl sometimes, Carson. I’m almost eighteen.”

  He shakes his head. “I know how old you are; I just don’t think you should be screwing around with Greg or doing anything with him for that matter. What’s he even doing here? Didn’t he go off to college?”

  I shake my head. “He didn’t get in anywhere. He’s going to the community college.”

  He snorts. “Oh, well, that’s great. Way to go, Felicity. Set your sights real high there, didn’t you?”

  “Hey, what’s your problem, Carson?”

  I shake the thoughts from my head. That was the last day that the two of us talked about my dating life or “sex” life at all. Every plan I have at making him see me as a woman and not some little girl always backfires. I was just thinking that maybe if he knew that I had some experience under my belt, he’d be more inclined to see me as the woman I am, or in that case, was. But my plans never work on him. I guess in his eyes, I’m forever stuck as still being little Felicity from next door. They always talk about that fantasy of the girl next door but what they don’t tell you is, that’s the friend zone and the only thing harder than getting out of the friend zone is getting out of paying taxes. That really dampers my mood and excitement I had for tonight.

  I change out of my sweats and hoodie and pull on a pair of ripped up skinny jeans, not practical in an Illinois winter but hey, they make my ass look like a damn peach. I slide my feet back into my white Converse and grab a gray off-the-shoulder sweater from my bag. I pull my hair out of its bun and it falls around me in soft dark curls. I grab my dry shampoo and spray the hell out of it, giving it that sexy, I don’t care look. I examine my face in the mirror. My makeup is still done from graduation today, so I just touch up my under-eye area and add some fresh mascara and lip gloss. I grab my favorite perfume and dab it on a few pressure points: my neck, wrists, and down between my cleavage. Then I turn around to gather up my phone and purse.

  A knock comes at the door and I spin around, expecting to see my mom, but it’s Carson walking through my door. I look him up and down quickly and my mouth instantly waters. He’s still just as tall as I remember him and maybe even more muscular than before. His biceps look like they’re about to rip through the navy crew neck sweater he’s wearing. His dark hair is short on the back and sides, the top a little longer and styled neatly. His blue eyes land on mine and they light up. I run across the room, throwing myself in his arms. I wrap my own tightly around his neck and my legs around his hips. He squeezes me against him, and I feel how hard and strong his chest is against my own.

  “Damn, I missed you, sweetheart,” he says into my hair.

  “I missed you too,” I reply, squeezing him as hard as I can. I smell a faint touch of cologne and it makes me tingle. He no longer wears the cheap aerosol body sprays he used to hose himself down with in high school; this scent smells expensive.

  After a long moment of hugging, things begin to feel too good, at least to me. I begin to let loose and he places me on my feet. “You look good,” he says with a smile, looking me up and down.

  I cock my head to the side. “I look good? That’s it?” I ask.

  He rolls his eyes. “Always with the dramatics, Felicity. You look great. Hot. Grown up. Is that better?”

  I smile wide and nod. “Much better. Grown up, but not old, right?’ I point at him.

  He laughs. “You most definitely don’t look old.”

  He falls back into the chair at my desk and his eyes land on that poster again. “Damn, your mom hasn’t ripped that thing down yet?”

  I smile and shrug, more than ready to play with him. “Maybe she likes to have him watching too,” I joke.

  And just like I knew he would, he makes a sick gagging sound.

  I laugh and shake my head. “So, what’s the game plan for tonight?”

  He sits forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he rubs his hands together. “I was thinking we would start slow by going to Sandy’s for some food and drinks. Then we can hit up a few bars in town, meet up with the guys, you know. See what we can find.”

  Sandy’s was our favorite hangout back in the day. It’s nothing special, just a local diner that serves greasy spoon food and some pretty kick-ass pies this time of year.

  I nod and smile. “Sounds good. Let’s do it.”

  I lead the way back to the driveway where our mothers are still talking.

  “You two better behave yourselves tonight. I don’t want any midnight calls from the police. You hear me?” my mom says as we walk past.

  “You have my word, Mrs. Brighton,” Carson says.

  “Carson, you haven’t seen your mother in months. Aren’t you going to at least give me a hug?” his mother says.

  I turn around to see him stop in his tracks. He gives me an annoyed look and turns to give her a hug. I wave and smile at my mom. “See you later. Love you and thanks for picking me up,” I say, opening the door to his fully restored Trans Am.

  Mom smiles and waves and Carson jumps in the car next to me. He turns and gives me a smile as he twis
ts the key and the car fires to life. He backs out of the drive, shifts into drive, hits the gas, and we take off, zooming through the night like the good old days.

  “Woohooooo!” He hollers and I burst into laughter. I glance through the back window and see our moms just shaking their heads as we speed away.

  I laugh and shake my head. “I can’t believe you still have this car.”

  He smirks in the darkness. “Of course I still have it. I’m never getting rid of this baby,” he says, running his hand along the dash. “I mean, of course this isn’t my everyday drive anymore. I just pull her out for special occasions…like tonight. Tonight it will take us back to our teen years.”

  I smile. “It really does,” I agree, reaching into my purse and pulling out the bottle of gin I have tucked away there.

  He looks at me and laughs.

  “Just like old times.”

  “Hold up,” he says, reaching for something under his seat. He pulls out a CD in a clear case and tells me to open it and put it in the CD player. I do as instructed and hit play. A few seconds later, Third Eye Blinds ‘Jumper’ starts blaring through the speakers.

  “Now it’s just like old times.” We both burst out into song, singing along like we were kids again.

  We get to the diner and step inside, greeted by a hostess that’s dressed like an elf. The same tacky decorations hang on every surface of the place, just like they have every single holiday season. The restaurant isn’t too crowded. It’s mostly a hangout for an older crowd, but it’s the only place in town that serves food twenty-four hours and serves alcohol. We pick a table in the corner and are immediately brought over menus. We both order a beer and Carson insists we also order a shot of tequila for old time’s sake, then we both gaze down at the menu to figure out what we want to eat.

  “So, is anyone joining us for dinner?” I ask.

  “Nope, this portion of the evening is just for me and you.”

  I smile. Alone time with Carson? I like the idea of that.

  Four

  Carson

  “So, what’s been going on in your life?” I ask her after we toss back our shot. “Any new boyfriends or big life changes I need to know about? Did you run off and get married or do you have a secret child nobody knows about?”

  She laughs and rolls her eyes. “No, no children. No husband. No boyfriend.”

  That makes me smile. All of it. She’s completely single and so am I for the first time in I don’t know how many years.

  “What about you? You and big boobs still together?”

  I laugh. “Big boobs?”

  “Yeah, you know the one. Long dark hair, big boobs, green eyes. You know, they all look the same. Your exes could all be on The Bachelor.”

  That makes my back straighten. “I guess I have a type.” I laugh. What she doesn’t know is that she’s my type, but I fill my life with women who remind me of her because I can’t have the one I want. Fucked up? Yeah, tell my therapist that.

  “You do have a type. Hey, have you ever noticed that all your little playthings look like me?” She leans forward, putting her elbow on the table and using her fist to hold up her head as she watches me.

  “What?” I ask, playing confused.

  “I have dark hair. I have green eyes. And you’ve seen my boobs. They may not be as big as big boobs, but I think they’re pretty nice.” She smiles and her face flushes.

  I lean in, not even knowing what I’m going to say. I open my mouth, close it. Then I say, “Me and Jessica are not together anymore.”

  She nods. “So my theory?”

  I roll my eyes. “What exactly is your theory?”

  “That maybe, deep down, you really want me.” I can’t tell if she’s joking or serious; the look on her face gives nothing away.

  I wet my lips as I think about how to approach this. She’s my best friend. I shouldn’t want her. I can’t want her. All it would do is ruin us. And I’ve had her in my life too long to throw it all away for a one-night stand. “I guess I never really thought about it. I’ve dated blondes too. And they don’t all have green eyes.”

  “All the ones I’ve met have,” she argues.

  “Order up,” the waitress says, sliding our plates beneath us.

  “Thank you,” I say, leaning back and getting ready to eat. “So, tell me. What do you plan on doing now?” I ask, hoping to change the subject.

  She pops a fry into her mouth. “You mean like tonight or like with my life?”

  “I meant with your life but either will work.”

  “Well, I’ve been applying to several jobs, some in Chicago, St. Louis, even a few back out on the East Coast. I don’t know where I’ll end up. And what I plan on doing tonight is getting hammered, forgetting about the last four years I spent in study hell, and hopefully, get laid because let me tell you, it’s been too long!”

  My back straightens again. Does that mean she wants to hook up with me or that I have to stand back and watch some other man touch her? I don’t know that I can do either.

  “I mean, I haven’t been laid in…” She mentally counts the number of months in her head. “Like four months, and a girl has needs, you know?”

  I take a bite of my burger and focus on chewing so I don’t choke. “You’ve changed a lot,” I point out.

  Her brows draw together. “How so?”

  “You never used to talk about getting laid before.”

  She laughs. “Well, we haven’t seen one another since before I started college. I wasn’t getting laid then. You wouldn’t let me. You were always in my way,” she points out.

  I wish I never would’ve gotten out of your way.

  “Then me and Greg were working up to it—I told you about that. But after your last visit my senior year, he suddenly stopped calling me and started avoiding me around town. So I had to go off to college a sad little virgin.” She makes a little pouty face, jutting her bottom lip out. “But no worries, with the number of horn-dog frat boys, it didn’t take long to give it away,” she jokes—at least I hope she’s joking.

  “I didn’t realize you were so hell-bent on losing it before college. You should’ve told me. I would’ve been more than happy to help you out.” I smirk at her, hoping she’s blowing this all off as fun banter.

  She scoffs. “Yeah, right. You were hell-bent on keeping me innocent. But…” She shrugs. “Look at me now, no more little nice girl. All your work is in vain.” She smiles.

  I pick up my beer and take a drink.

  “So, is Greg coming later? I have some unfinished business with him.”

  “I have to use the bathroom,” I say, standing up and practically running off. In the bathroom, I lock the door behind me and lean against the sink, hanging my head. What the fuck is she trying to do to me? She’s always been a flirt, that’s nothing new. But she’s never openly teased me or flirted with me like this. Or is she goading me? Is she trying to piss me off? It’s always been in the name of fun, never serious. Or maybe it was. Was it serious flirting on her part? Was she dropping me hints? And even if she was, that doesn’t change the fact that we’re best friends and our relationship is worth more than a random hookup. I can’t lose her. I’ve gone months without talking to her before and every time, it felt like I’d lost a part of myself.

  I splash some cold water on my face and leave the bathroom, deciding to just change the subject and steer away from the sex topic altogether. I take my seat and she’s still in hers, eating and enjoying her beer.

  “Feel better?” she asks with a lift of her brow.

  I nod and take a sip of my beer.

  “So, your mom really seems to miss you. You don’t come home often.”

  I nod once and take a bite of my burger. “I know, I’m working on it.”

  Her brow lifts.

  “I’m working on putting the past behind me when it comes to her and that house. It’s not easy forgetting how I grew up.”

  “I know you had a hard time at that house with your mo
m and dad always fighting and then the divorce, but your whole childhood wasn’t that bad. You had me.” She smiles. “And you still do.” She reaches out and grabs my hand briefly.

  I return her smile. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I’ve had her all along for a reason. Maybe she was meant for me after all. I mean, there has to be a reason she was brought into my life and has stood by my side longer than anyone else ever has, right? But what if I fuck it up like I have every other adult relationship I’ve been in? What if she ends up hating me and I lose her too? The what-if is what gets me; it’s too dangerous to bet everything on a what-if.

  The night goes by in a flash. We leave the diner and go to meet up with some of the guys at the bowling alley. We drink draft beer and throw a couple of games. Everyone seems to fall back into their old rhythm. It’s like having us all together again takes us back to our teenage years. But this time, Felicity isn’t so young. Now she’s a grown woman with a killer ass, dirty mouth, and sexy smile. The guys are eating her up and she’s loving it. I, however, am hating it. I’m jealous and pissed, but I’m trying to make it appear like it’s not bothering me and that I’m in a good mood.

  I’m sitting on the bench waiting for my turn while Greg and Felicity are sitting at the scoreboard behind me. I can’t help but to listen in to their conversation.

  “I’m serious, I really wanted to. Just…couldn’t,” Greg tells her.

  “Well, if I wasn’t worth it then, you’re not worth it now. Sorry, buddy,” she replies, and I know exactly what they’re talking about. The relationship I ruined there. I told myself it was for her benefit. But it wasn’t. It was all for mine. I didn’t want to think of my friend’s hands on her. Even if she didn’t know it, even if nobody knew it, she was mine and only mine. Still is. I just have to figure out how to go about this.