Break Up with Him, for Me: A ‘Friends to Lovers’ Romance Read online

  I said nothing.

  I just watched as he popped a handful of stress relief pills and placed his hand over his heart. His “I’m so sick of you putting me through this shit,” speech was inevitable.

  In the past, he’d effortlessly handled drugged-out rock stars, popstar princesses with secret addictions, and boy bands with international fandoms. Yet, for some strange reason, he claimed that my scandals were the ones that drove him to the brink of insanity.

  “If you think pleading ignorance is going to get you out of this one, you’re sadly mistaken.” He pushed the printed headlines closer to me. “Look at what they’re saying about you so far.”

  I glanced down at the words and tried not to smile.

  The COCK-y King of New York Indeed

  Cinder’s CEO Can ‘Hunt’ Us Down Any Day

  Hayden Hunter Shows Us His Huge … Ego

  “These are very creative,” I said. “Would you like me to host a contest for the best one?”

  “Shut up, Hayden.” He pulled up a chair and signaled for the manager. “I called Sinful Suit a few minutes ago and spoke to the editor in chief. She said that an anonymous person randomly submitted these an hour before their issue went to print.”

  “Oh?” I smiled.

  “Yes. Oh.”

  “Any idea who might have perfectly curated, nude photos of you at their disposal?”

  “Maybe.” I shrugged. “You did say that we needed to give them something else to talk about, so I gave them something else to talk about.”

  “I’m sorry that I wasn’t more specific about the type of shit I meant.” He held up his hands in surrender. “You need a fucking avalanche of good press at this point. I’m talking children’s hospital visits, soup kitchen volunteer hours, the works.”

  “That sounds staged as hell, Lawrence. Everyone will see right through it.”

  “Not if you do a good job and convince them otherwise.” He picked up his briefcase and set it on the table. “We can get started by using Penelope to show off more of your human side. Let’s put your overbearing friendship to work for a change.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Tell her that she needs to join you on a shopping spree in full view of the press,” he said. “We’ll call some photogs and have them put a spin on ‘Most Generous Best Friend’ or something. Then we’ll make sure the cashier leaks the amount you spend on her, which should be at least seventy-five thousand dollars. Oh, and when you two are out, she should…”

  I tuned out the rest of his suggestion, knowing that it was a hell no. Penelope would never willingly set foot inside of a clothing store. She’d freeze at the glass doors, come up with an excuse for why she suddenly needed to leave, and walk away in tears.

  She never admitted the reason to me—even after all these years, but it was because of her mother. Shopping was the last thing they did together—half an hour before the accident, and she never got over it.

  “Stop.” I cut Lawrence off. “That’s not happening. Give me something else to do.”

  “What’s wrong with taking your best friend shopping?”

  “Move on to another suggestion.” I kept my voice firm. “Now.”

  “Fine.” He flipped through his folders, then he slid a sheet toward me.

  “Okay, next option,” he said. “I want you to write an apology letter to every single person or company that you’ve ever wronged. I’m sure that some people will leak their letters to the press, and over the long haul, this can start the rehab process for your image.”

  “You know how I feel about apologies, Lawrence,” I said. “They don’t do anything but state the obvious.”

  “They’ll do something more than that this time. Trust me.”

  I looked down at the sheet. “You think that I’ve wronged two hundred and fifty people?”

  “Ha! Don’t be silly.” He flipped it over. “There’s more on the back, and I left the other sheets at headquarters.”

  Before I could tell him that this suggestion wasn’t happening either, my phone sounded with Penelope’s signature ringtone. A FaceTime request.

  “Don’t you dare answer her right now.” Lawrence glared at me. “She can wait.”

  “This’ll only take a minute.” I tapped the screen anyway.

  “Yeah, Pen?” I answered.

  “Why haven’t you called me back yet?” Her face appeared on screen, and a subway whooshed by in the background. “I’ve already made it back to New York.”

  “I don’t have any missed calls from you.” I noticed the silver charm around her neck and tilted my head to the side. “Are you dressed up for something?”

  “I’ve called you five times and—” Her lips froze, and I waited for her to realize, for the umpteenth time, that her phone had terrible reception in the subway tunnel.

  As the call stalled, I stared at her gorgeous face.

  I wasn’t sure when it happened, but somewhere between our final days in Seattle and now, she became sexy as hell. Her dark brown hair fell to her shoulders in waves, and her light hazel eyes perfectly accentuated her full, pink lips. Even though she usually wore T-shirts and sweats, she was fucking stunning without trying.

  Now and then, I had to catch myself from looking at her too hard or fantasizing. Especially since I knew that her brother would have me stoned to death if I ever uttered the words, “Your sister is sexy as fuck,” within a hundred-mile radius, so I kept that opinion to myself.

  “Hey!” Her screen suddenly unfroze. She was now on a street. “Can you see me now?”

  “Yes.” I stared at her lips. “I can see you.”

  “Guess what happened to me at the airport this morning?”

  “Can he guess after we get done with our meeting?” Lawrence called out. “Hayden has a billion-dollar business to run, Penelope. I’ve told you countless times to stop calling during business hours unless it’s important.”

  “This is important.” She smiled. “I ran into the one.”

  “The one who did what?” I raised my eyebrow. “What’s the rest of his breakup name?”

  “He’s the one that got away.”

  I blinked. None of her exes came to mind.

  “He’s not an ex,” she said, reading me. “And I never told you about him, because—It’s a long story. Can you meet me at Central Park to talk?”

  “No, but since I already know that you’ll insist on talking to him anyway, you can come to him.” Lawrence intruded again. “We’re at Sweet Seasons on Park Avenue, and thanks to your friend’s ‘special member’ making waves in the news, the paparazzi are outside. Please don’t speak to them.”

  “I would never,” she said. “I’ll be there in fifteen.”

  I ended the call and looked over at Lawrence. “Now, where were we? Discussing how long these apology letters need to be?”

  “No, we’re at the part when I finally realize that you’re incapable of focusing on anything if Penelope calls or texts you.”

  “That’s not true.” I picked up a pen. “I hit ignore when she calls sometimes.”

  “Ha! I’ll believe that when I see it.” He stood to his feet. “Now that you mention it, I don’t think you could ever hit ignore on Penelope, even if you wanted to.”

  “How much would you be willing to bet on that baseless assumption?”

  “I’ll roll the dice on my entire life.” He shrugged. “Want to take me up on it, so I can retire in peace?”

  “No, I’d rather keep you miserably employed a little while longer.” I smiled. “But just so you know, you’re wrong.”

  “Deep down you know that I’m not...”

  Break Up #6

  The One That Didn’t Pay $72.99

  Hayden

  Back Then

  Travis Little Sis (Stop Giving Her Advice): Hey. You busy?

  Me: Yes. Do not call me.

  Me: Aren’t you on a date with your newest boyfriend right now?

  Travis Little Sis (Stop Giving Her Advice):
He’s in the restroom. I need to ask you something important.

  Me: I just said that I was busy, Penelope. (Happy Birthday, btw.)

  Travis Little Sis (Stop Giving Her Advice): Do you think it’s weird that I’ve never had an orgasm when any of my past boyfriends have gone down on me? Like, their mouths feel good against my lips down there, but it’s never the OMG earth shattering thing that I’ve heard people talk about. (Thank you! Sweet 18!)

  Me: Stop texting me. Now.

  Travis Little Sis (Stop Giving Her Advice): All of them have fingered me while they’re doing it and I do like that, but…Is there something I’m not doing? How do I get an orgasm the next time?

  Me: Reread my last message. I’m turning my phone off.

  Travis Little Sis (Stop Giving Her Advice): Why? You said I could ask you for advice.

  Me: About dating and breakups. Not sex.

  Travis Little Sis (Stop Giving Her Advice): Who else can I ask then?

  I set my phone down and sigh.

  You changed her name in your phone for a reason. Do not answer this. Ever.

  Tonight marks the umpteenth night in a row that she’s taken my “I’ll give you breakup advice whenever you want” offer a little too seriously.

  At first, I honestly didn’t mind, but that was until she started giving me a history lesson about all of her breakups; the studies were never-ending for someone who was only seventeen.

  Well, eighteen.

  To her credit, she moved on fast after each one—dumping any guy at the first sign of disrespect. She also made it perfectly clear what she was looking for in the early stages, so any guy who stuck around after hearing her delusional outlook on love had to like her.

  Not only that, but her relationships had to be balanced on a training, travel, and performance schedule that was getting stretched thinner by the day. Since she’s placed first in every competition this year—The Grand Prix, Cup of China, and the Four Continents Championship, all while maintaining her number one ranking in the world, she’s all but guaranteed to be selected for a spot on the Olympic team.

  Why do I know this shit?

  I tap my screen and scroll through our previous thread of messages, zeroing in on the one she sent me last night.

  Travis Little Sis (Stop Giving Her Advice): Is it too much to ask for a guy who wants me and only me? A guy who’s in this for the long-haul? I know I’m young, but my parents got married at 18 and they were always happy…I want that for myself. You think that’s possible?

  It’s not, but I’d told her yes anyway.

  Without thinking, I tap her name and hit call.

  “Yeah, Hayden?” she answers on the first ring.

  “Okay, look,” I say. “Do you know where your clit is?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. After your date tonight, point it out to your boyfriend and tell him to kiss it slowly and use his tongue to focus on it.”

  “Wait. I thought you previously said that I shouldn’t get intimate with a guy until date five. This is only date three, and I want to make sure I’m prepared by then.”

  I roll my eyes. “In that case, use two fingers and touch it yourself until you feel it swelling, until it feels like you can’t take any more.”

  “I’ve tried that before, but I always pull back…I don’t think I ever go long enough. How long should it take?”

  “Penelope.” I can’t believe she’s not letting this go. “Tell you what. Buy a vibrator online and read the instructions. Or worse, if you’re that damn anxious, go to CVS or Walgreens for an electric toothbrush. Take off the bristles, buy the padded attachment, and press that against your clit the next time you’re horny. Don’t move it until your pussy is super wet and throbbing in utter pleasure. You’ll know when you’re coming, clear?”

  “Clear.”

  “Can I hang up now, and act like this conversation never happened?”

  “After one last thing,” she says. “How long should I wait for him to come back from the bathroom before going to check on him?”

  “Depends. How long has he been in there?”

  “Fifteen minutes.” A paper ruffles in the background. “He handled the check and then he—Holy fucking shit.”

  “What?”

  “He wrote ‘Sorry. It’s Me, Not You. I Owe You’ on the receipt!” She sucks in a breath. “This dinner cost seventy-three dollars and he—” She pauses again. “I’m looking at him now.”

  “He’s returning to the table to pay it?”

  “No, he’s outside getting into his car.” She sighs. “Should I ask the manager if I can wash dishes to pay for this?”

  “No, sit tight.” I send my graphic designer a message to let him know that I’ll finish up the app’s logo some other night. “Order a dry aged New York strip with extra butter for me. I’ll join you there in twenty minutes.”

  “Really?” There’s a smile in her voice. “In that case, can you also take me to CVS when we’re finished?”

  I hang up in her face.

  Four

  Present Day

  Penelope

  At six o’clock, I emerged from the subway station at Lexington Avenue, heading straight toward the flock of photogs that were stalking him.

  “What did you think about his nudes leaking, Penelope?” “Is he still inside with Lawrence?” “Can you tell us how he’s currently feeling?” They yelled all at once.

  I slid a pair of shades over my eyes as I moved through them, showing no emotion whatsoever as I made it in front of Sweet Seasons Coffee.

  “How’s he planning to turn this one around?” “He’s still trending on Twitter!” “Were you the holding the camera while he was taking those pictures?”

  I held back a groan at that last question and knocked on the door.

  Within seconds, his security guard opened it wide enough to grab my hand and pull me inside.

  “He’s upstairs, Miss Penelope,” Henry said. Then he lowered his voice. “Mr. Lawrence is on a bender, so tread lightly, and don’t say I never warned you about anything.”

  I laughed. “Thank you, Henry.”

  “Anytime.” He locked the door again.

  When I made it to the top of the steps, Lawrence was pacing the other side of the floor and shouting into his phone.

  Hayden was sipping a cup of coffee, looking completely unfazed.

  “Hey.” I walked over and dropped my purse onto his table. “I told the photogs that you’re beyond embarrassed about what happened today. I also said that you’re gifting every offended person a bottle of eye-bleach and a memory-erase stick.”

  “Thank you very much.” He smiled. “That’s exactly what Lawrence wants to do to fix this.”

  “I knew it.”

  He laughed. “Is that dress yours, or are you still borrowing things from strangers online?”

  “It’s not borrowing. It’s sharing, and renttherunway.com dry-cleans everything before sending it out.”

  “Hmmm.” He looked me over. “You look good in that one.”

  “Thank you. I’ll try to dress up more often, so you can keep saying nice things to me.”

  “I personally prefer you in sweats.” He stood to his feet. “Let’s go outside and talk so we can have some privacy.”

  “Where the hell do you two think you’re going?” Lawrence stopped pacing. “Don’t you dare go out there.”

  “Relax,” Hayden said. “We’re going to the alley.”

  “Be back in ten minutes.”

  “Twenty,” we said in unison.

  “Fine.” He returned to his call, shouting as if he’d never lost a beat.

  Hayden led me downstairs and outside where we often whenever our bench in Central Park was out of the question.

  The street was blocked off with a deceiving wall that most people (more importantly, the photogs) thought led to nowhere. Bright pink lights hung high—complementing the iron rose chairs, and a small fire pit spewed short flames.

  The manager followed
us outside, setting two frappes and a tray of macarons on a table before walking away.

  “So—” Hayden leaned against the wall. “Who’s this ‘the one that got away’ guy?”

  “Simon Gaines.” Butterflies fluttered in my stomach as if I was still in the airport with him. “He was my study partner, and he’s pretty much a walking Prince Charming.”

  “Anytime you say that, the guy ends up being a villain in the end.”

  “Thanks for the reminder.” I rolled my eyes. “Anyway, I never got to spend that much time on campus since I was still skating, but he always walked me back to my dorm whenever it was raining, went out of his way to help me on campus if I called, and threw hints here or there about ‘us’ but I wasn’t sure if I should catch them because—” I paused. “You and I weren’t talking at that point.”

  “So, you met him during our Cold War?”

  “Yes.”

  Silence.

  We stared at each other for several seconds, like we always did whenever that sixteen-month gap in our friendship came up. We never talked about that era; we let it lay abandoned and forgotten. Casualties of a painful past better left unvisited for good.

  The thought of it still made my heart ache from time to time, and I still blamed Hayden for starting it, but time had healed most of the wound. Supposedly.

  “Anyway,” Hayden said, shattering the silence. “Keep going.”

  “Yeah, anyway—” I cleared my throat. “This one time when we were driving to a movie, he saw a turtle that escaped from a pet shop and he pulled over to save it, so no car would kill it. Then he took a half hour detour and set it free in the ocean.”

  “He put a pet store turtle in the sea?” He raised his eyebrow. “He probably killed it faster than the traffic would’ve.”

  “That’s not the point of this story, Hayden.”

  “Then tell a better one.”

  “I think he’s the one,” I said. “Like, I think its fate that I ran into him—literally, after all this time and things never worked out with the other woman he was seeing. I think this is the guy I’ve always belonged with.”