Friend Is a Four Letter Word Read Free

fresh air to clear my mind. “Let’s walk around a bit.”
    Carter gets out of the car, but doesn’t follow me as I pace back and forth. It’s a nervous habit, one I haven’t yet been able to break. Standing still—feeling stagnant—it’s my worst fear.
    “Where’s the race?” Carter asks, folding his arms over his chest and leaning against the trunk. His dark eyes are trained on me as I walk the same line over and over.
    “Ha,” I say. I change the subject as fast as I possibly can. “Aren’t you almost finished with school? What are you doing after?” I ask in between sips from the flask. The warm liquid bubbles down my throat, heating my blood in a way the walk just couldn’t.
    “I’ve got a job lined up, thanks to my dad,” he says, the words grinding out. He tips his head back to look at the sky and pulls his mouth into a tight line.
    I pause to watch him, his long body so damn tense. I should offer him my flask because, even though he seemed so damn sure that talking would solve things, I happen to know something harder can take the edge right off. Even if it is a Band-Aid fix.
    “That’s a good thing, right?” I ask, watching the way his eyes narrow at my question.
    “It is… and it isn’t. My dad’s connections already got me my internship, they’re basically handing me the job because of him, too. Who wants to get their first job because someone handed it to them, you know?” Carter rubs his palm along his stubbly cheek. Something I find myself wanting to do for him. To feel that roughness on my skin. “I want to prove to everyone who doubted me that I can do this. That I’m not just some screw-up with connections.”
    “Right,” I agree. Though I have no idea how that feels. I’ve never really done anything on my own. My parents do everything for me, they’re good to me and provide for all my needs. Any problems I have in my life are byproducts of my own little stereotypical acts of rebellion.
    Sadly, I’m a cliché and I know it. I don’t love thinking about that, so I keep walking a trench into the gravel-pitted dirt.
    If Carter would just kiss me, I wouldn’t have to fill my need to move with pacing.
    “How long have you and Quinn been friends?” Carter asks, subject hopping again. “I haven’t heard her talk about you before.”
    I take a sip from the flask, then offer it to Carter before I answer. “Are you sure you don’t want some? We can talk and drink. And you were right. It really does help with the cold.”
    “No thanks.” He sticks his hands deep in his pockets. I might be edgy, but I get the vibe he seriously disapproves of me and my liquor guzzling habits. I take an exaggerated sip and he raises an eyebrow before saying, “I’m driving.”
    I feel a little blush on my face. Of course. Designated driver and all that. I try to jump back into our stilted conversation. “Friends? Quinn and I… I guess we’re new friends,” I say, unable to articulate the weirdness of our relationship.
    “Really? That’s surprising. You guys were pretty rough on each other back there in the car. I usually only get away with talking crap like that with my oldest friends.” The way he looks at me shifts suddenly, like he’s waiting impatiently on my answer, like he actually gives a crap about what I’m going to say.
    I remind myself it’s just more of the protective brother vibe on his part. Of course he wants to know more about his sister’s bad influence ‘friend.’
    “I wasn’t serious about anything I said to her… I mean, the mean stuff—that was just a joke. It’s what we do.” I stop pacing and lean on the trunk of my car, a few inches away from him. I’m so close to him, I can smell the clean, sharp scent of his aftershave. “The truth is—”
    I stop and stare up at the sky. The rain clouds have moved on, revealing a sprinkling of stars. It’s got to officially be Christmas by now. And the fact that we’re both here—relative strangers together