Enemies with Benefits

Prologue

- Rachel -

Men fucking suck.

Well, not just men, I suppose. Relationships in general fucking suck. But maybe that's a bit dramatic for my realist self to declare after only one actual relationship in my thirty years. What's that saying? There's plenty of fish in the sea? Maybe there's a better fish out there for me. For everyone.

Or maybe fishing fucking sucks. That's why I never go, and it's why I'll continue to buy my salmon in the freezer section of the grocery store.

But again with the dramatics. I blame the wine for making me this way. This time, anyway.

I pulled my phone from the pocket of my shorts, unlocking it and going immediately to my photo app. Scrolling to the right, I rolled my eyes at the album I'd labeled 'Do Not Look You Idiot' before clicking on it. With the immediate onslaught from the plethora of pictures, I frowned down at the screen. Illuminated there was an entire lifetime of a past at my literal fingertips. And I couldn't help myself.

Looking through them, I sighed to myself and sipped at my wine. But as my heart and pussy clenched at the pictures and videos from the years with Caleb Ryker, as well as my wine glass running dry, I locked my phone and threw it onto the coffee table in front of me. Being back in my hometown was going to be a shitshow and a half. I just had to hope that my ex wasn't still living close by, because regardless of what had happened when I last saw him, I knew I'd never let him go.

Huh...I wonder if he fucks as well as he used to. My eyes grew wide at the realization of how long I'd gone without him in my life. Knowing that my time had been spent growing as a person, both inside and out of the bedroom...

Shit. What if he's even better now?

"Rach? Girl, you good?"

"Ugh!" I growled to myself and my best friend, pulling my head from the sexually-frustrated toxicity of my thoughts. Or at least I tried to. Wine has always made me think with my pussy. Sue me.

"It won't be that bad, Rach, being back here. Don't worry so much. You wanna talk about it?" Leah asked, eyebrows forcibly raised while she pretended her attention was on me and not her own diminishing wine.

"Nope."

"Well...do you wanna drink about it?"

I grinned at her, reaching for the wine bottle to top both of our glasses off. But getting drunk was the last thing I needed. Spilling my guts—likely literally if we polished another bottle—to Leah wasn't something I did. Not anymore.

Then again, for a college professor, I'm an idiot, because I did it anyway and sent my mind into a furious whirlwind to the past.

_

Fifteen years ago

"So..." I dragged the word on awkwardly, biting my lip. The nerves of my first date ate at my sanity—or rather, devoured it. I was a mess, and apparently, I'd lost my ability to form a coherent sentence. Or even the simplest of thoughts.

The handsome boy across the table from me laughed and leaned back in the diner's booth. Stretching his arms out along the back, he settled in comfortably.

"You seem nervous," he noted with nonchalance. "Can I ask why?"

"Well, you just did." I crossed my arms across my chest, followed by one leg over the other.

He chuckled again. "Okay, so you can at least talk, but it's apparently only when you're sassy...I'll take that, I guess."

I tapped my fingernails along the tabletop and chewed on the skin at the inside of my lower lip. Averting my eyes anywhere but to my date, I let the awkwardness wash over and through me once again. My leg bounced until the ball of my foot went numb and the waitress finally came over with the milkshakes we'd ordered what felt like a millennium ago. As soon as mine hit the table, I slid it closer and started to chug, omitting a straw with the ragged desperation to put my mind at ease.