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  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Cover photography by: Lindee Robinson Photography

  Cover featuring models: Madison and Chad

  Cover design by: Danielle Styles

  Interior Formatting by: Angela McLaurin of Fictional Formats

  FRIEND IS A FOUR LETTER WORD

  Copyright © 2014 Steph Campbell

  All rights reserved.

  PROLOGUE

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  For Liz.

  My best friend.

  My sister.

  My business partner.

  My partner in wanderlust.

  My heterolifemate.

  (And fellow gold medalist at knowing ALL of the four letter words… and using them generously.)

  I lean over the back seat to see Quinn nervously fastening and refastening the strap on the back of her black high heel.

  “Okay, so I’m just going to go up to the door and tell him… Tell him what?” Quinn asks picking off the nail polish she took an hour painting on.

  “You’re an asshole?” I offer, reaching back to swat at her wrist. She glares, I glare back, and she drops her hands in her lap with a growl, looking like the Quinn I know and love/hate. Too bad that look disappears and is instantly replaced with that look.

  That look I’ve only seen on the faces of girls who are stupidly wrapped up in a guy.

  If I’m honest, there have been dozens of times that I’ve fantasized about being one of those girls. The ones so blindly and achingly in love. So wrapped up in another person that they’re willing to traipse up to their man’s house, unannounced in the pouring rain, to fix things because they’re practically psycho without their guy.

  But I’m not one of those girls.

  I don’t want to be losing sleep over anyone. I won’t be skipping meals because my heart aches so badly. I’ve never been in love, and frankly, never really wanted to be. Casual works well for me, always has. I don’t want to be in the backseat of someone’s car, unable to stop screwing around with my shoe because I’m so nervous.

  And those shoes? The ones about to make a mad dash to Ben’s door to proclaim undying love? Those belong to Quinn tonight, not me. And I couldn’t be happier about it.

  I’ll sit back and watch the chips fall where they may. And—bonus—Carter is our chauffeur tonight, so if things work out for Quinn, it may give me a shot at hooking up with her super sexy brother.

  “What if he doesn’t even open the door?” Quinn asks. She rubs her palms down the length of her moss green dress.

  “Have you looked in a mirror tonight, freak? He’ll open the door.” I raise my eyebrows and nod towards the door so she’ll take the hint and get out when she needs to. Go chase down this second-chance romance. Face her destiny. Run into the arms of the guy she loves. All that ridiculous, romantic crap.

  “Ouch.” Quinn’s brother Carter blows out a breath along with a small laugh at his sister’s expense. “I thought you two were friends.”

  “Barely,” I sneer. I catch his eye for the quickest of seconds and give him a wink.

  Quinn and I have this weird love-hate relationship. We aren’t quite friends, but, somehow, I relate more to her than anyone else in my life right now, so call that whatever you wish. Maybe it’s because there’s so much the same about us. The matching take-no-shit attitudes for one. Which makes her anxiety over talking to a guy that much more unnerving.

  If it could happen to her, it could happen to me, and Quinn is a ball of wrecked nerves I wouldn’t wish on anyone right now.

  Carter steers the car onto Ben’s road. I look over the back seat once more and Quinn is staring out the window, her knee bobbing up and down with the nervous tap of her foot. Carter puts the car into park, but Quinn doesn’t move for the door handle. She’s still. Silent even. It’s off-putting because it’s so unlike her.

  “Hey,” I say, reaching over and swatting at her leg. “It’s going to be okay. I mean it.”

  Her chestnut hair bounces on her shoulders as she gives a small nod, clearly unconvinced by my lame motivational speech.

  “Quinnlette, you don’t have to do this.” Carter sits up straight, hands tight on the steering wheel. He glances back in the rearview, and I feel a weird tightening in my chest.

  Not only does Quinn have Ben, who’s probably inside pining for her right now. She also has a brother who is always willing to stand firmly by her side.

  Or stand firmly in her way.

  It’s sweet. But she doesn’t need sweet. She needs a push, and I’m more than ready to shove her over the edge. In the name of true love and all that crap, of course.

  Quinn is staring at Carter, looking half relieved and half deflated. “Do you not think I should? I mean, I haven’t talked to him since—”

  “She should definitely do it,” I press, pointing to the door just in case she’s not taking my not-so-subtle verbal hint. “It’s that, or we’ll both be listening to her whine for the next ten years about how she let Ben get away.”

  She presses her lips in a flat line, pushes the car door open, and then pauses. “I have my phone, I’ll call if I need you to come and get me.”

  “We’ll wait here,” Carter decides without checking to see if I want to spend the rest of my night spying on Quinn and Ben’s date like some kind of creepy voyeur. Before I can protest, Quinn jumps in.

  She shakes her head firmly. “No, don’t do that. It’s Christmas Eve, you guys go do something fun.”

  Carter sighs and glances at the rain streaking down the window. “Quinn, it’s pouring out. I’m not going to leave you—”

  She throws her hand up and stops Carter mid-sentence. Thank god.

  “Really, I want you guys to go.”

  “What if he’s not home?” Carter demands, his jaw tightening obstinately. “We’ll just wait a minute then.”

  Quinn looks over her shoulder and points to the second floor of the house, where there’s an inviting, golden glow. “There’s a light on in his room.”

  “What if his mom doesn’t let you in?” I mutter under my breath. Much as I want to get out of her way, I’d hate to have her stuck in the rain with Ben’s mom staring her down. Quinn cuts her eyes at me. I crack a smile and say, “I mean, of course she’ll let you in.”

  “Please go,” Quinn pleads again, her voice shaking at little.

  She locks eyes with me for the briefest of seconds, and, in that moment, I know exactly what she’s thinking and why she wants us to leave.

  If the guy she’s in love with doesn’t let her in, there is no way in the world she wants to
walk back to the car and be forced to face our sad, earnest expressions.

  I feel for her, and I honestly hope she doesn’t wind up with her heart shattered. But she’s not going to know if she stays in this car with me and her overprotective big brother. I nod and she lets out a long breath.

  Quinn shakes her hair back, pushes the strap of her dress back up onto her shoulder, and slips her heels off, then darts from the car up the path and to the front door without giving us a backward glance.

  Once the car stops shaking from the slam of the door, the air in the tiny space fills with an awkward quiet. The pounding of the rain on the roof and the squeak of the windshield wipers are suddenly deafening.

  I don’t do well with awkward quiet.

  “So are we staying or going?” I ask Carter, trying not to stare at the way the muscles in his arms bulge under his sleeves. I’m pretty sure Quinn mentioned her brother had some cushy office internship—how the hell does he have arms like a lumberjack? I stare straight ahead to keep from drooling.

  Ugh, I’ve clearly been hanging out with lovesick Quinn for too long.

  Carter looks over at me, letting his eyes linger on my legs before saying, “I guess we’ll take off. You ready to head home?”

  I glance back over at him. His messy brown hair is falling in his face a little—something my parents would hate, which of course, makes me smile more than it should.

  “Hardly,” I say in a low voice, loving the way he smiles. Like he’s up for whatever I have in mind.

  I part my lips and lean in closer toward him. Now that we’re alone in the car, I’m suddenly more aware of the pounding of my heart, how flush my face is. I don’t usually feel so nervous around guys. Something about Carter is different, and it isn’t just that he’s a few years older.

  “Alright then,” he says in a tight voice. Carter pulls away from the house just as we see Quinn slip inside the door next to Ben’s towering frame.

  My heart feels this funny, strained pressure, and I can’t check my smile before Carter catches it from the corner of his eye.

  “Stupid puppy love,” I snarl. Or try to. Hard to be snarly when you’re wearing the biggest shit-eating grin.

  “Seriously.” Carter drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “I never thought my sister would fall for anyone, but especially not someone like that guy.”

  “What’s wrong with Ben?” I demand. I’ve personally always found him pretty damn hot, though I have a feeling Carter wouldn’t be all that happy to know that.

  The thought of Carter being jealous about me is pretty damn sexy.

  “Ben seems great. He’s just… nice.”

  “All girls want nice,” I say, thinking about why I was ever interested in Ben in the first place. “I mean, badass sounds exciting. But, trust me, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

  “Really?” Carter pulls his mouth to the side. “I would’ve pegged you as a sucker for a bad boy.”

  “Maybe a couple of years ago.” I stop because I don’t want to draw attention to the difference in our ages.

  “What are you looking for now?” I can tell that he’s trying hard to keep his voice even.

  I shrug. “Maybe I’m not looking anymore. Maybe I’m finally trying to open my eyes to what’s right in front of my face.”

  My own bold words make my hands clammy. I watch Carter’s throat work as he swallows hard. I crack the window as we wind through the subdivision and onto the interstate, letting the cool air shock me back to reality.

  Carter touches my bare leg, and I don’t flinch away from him. I want more. A chill runs up and down my spine—it has nothing to do with the freezing rain spattering on my overheated skin and everything to do with the way his voice cuts through my thoughts.

  “You’re going to freeze, doll.”

  It’s cold out, but the cognac I sipped earlier, mixed with the nerves of being this close to Carter, has left me warmer than normal. I watch the water droplets slip in through the crack of the window and try to come up with something to say. Something polished and witty. Carter is, after all, almost out of college. While I may be eighteen, I’m still a senior in high school for a few more months. That’s got to be an automatic strike against me, right?

  “What do you normally do on the weekends?” Carter asks before I’m able to come up with anything that will wow him.

  Drink heavily. Hook up with random guys.

  “Not much,” I say, swallowing the ugly truth. “Shop. Movies. How about you?”

  “Study,” he says, shrugging. He looks at me from the corner of his eye and gives me an adorable grin. “Surf.”

  I want to ask if there’s a girl who he takes surfing with him, but, to be honest, it doesn’t really matter to me one way or another. He’s here with me now, and I doubt either one of us is looking for anything more than whatever sexy fun tonight may bring.

  I feel like we’re both using this small talk to hold back any real answers. I hardly know Carter—I’d only run into him a few times before he moved away for college.

  He and I definitely aren’t close enough to share our real selves, even if it is Christmas Eve and there’s magic in the air and all of that other bullshit. There will be no unwrapping of pretty layers to reveal what’s under the surface—unless he’s game for stripping layers of clothing.

  Otherwise, we’ll stay tied up in our neat little bows tonight.

  Because that is the type of girl I am.

  To drive that point home, I reach across the seat and trace a line up his arm, across his collarbone, and flash a playful grin when he sucks in a quick breath through his teeth.

  He clears his throat, and I watch the way his mouth works from side to side before he gets the next words out. “So, there’s this place over off of Tenth. We could just pull in there and hang if you want?”

  “Sure,” I say, dragging my fingertip along the rough stubble on his jaw.

  We drive a bit more and then pull off to a small lookout point. It’s nothing but dirt and rocks—it’s pretty much bare—but it’s a quiet, private place, so the lack of ambiance is okay.

  Besides, its bareness means I don’t have to pretend to be anything that I’m not in order to fit in, and that’s all I’m looking for right now.

  “Is this alright?” he asks, unbuckling his seat belt and turning to face me. The scenery may not be very inspiring, but that’s not exactly a problem when I have Carter’s serious, sexy eyes to focus on. Especially when they’re dark with a want I’ve been hoping to see all night.

  “This is perfect.” I flash him a quick smile before I reach inside the glove box and pull out the small silver flask I always keep with me.

  “Aren’t you a little young for that?” Carter jokes as I take a fiery hot sip and let that first buzz work through my veins.

  “Maybe,” I say with a shrug.

  “I could turn the car back on if you’re cold,” he offers.

  “I’m not exactly drinking to stay warm.” That’s not entirely true. Now that he mentions it, it is pretty frosty in here. “Anyway, I probably only had a quarter tank when we started this whole adventure.”

  “I could’ve stopped for gas.” His eyes are trained on my flask, and I take another swig, just to be defiant. Just to annoy him.

  He doesn’t look annoyed. His lips tug down and his eyes shift to the side, like he’s remembering something sad. “It’s no big deal,” I say, and, of course, he thinks I mean about the gas when it’s really my shitty way of saying that whatever he’s going through is going to be okay.

  Like I have room to talk. I’m the queen of fucking up and making things not okay. Even okay things. I’m really good at making a mess of shit. I wish I had the guts to ask him what the hell made him go into depressed mode so quick.

  “You don’t have to drink. If you’re feeling shitty—”

  “Who said I’m feeling shitty?” I demand. “It’s Christmas Eve. I’m young, I’m free. I’m just celebrating a little. Jesus.”


  “I was just saying—we could talk. I could listen. If you need.” He stares out the windshield, and I shake a little because I realize he would listen. I could talk to him. And I could ask him what he was so worried about. “If that’s why you’re drinking. I mean, I know what it’s like to not have anyone who gets it, to feel like you just want to check out for a little while. But I also know that doesn’t wind up fixing shit. I’d be happy to listen.”

  I could open up to him. He’s not hinting or playing games, and he’s the first guy who hasn’t done those things with me. I could try to see if he would understand all the crap that’s been eating at me lately.

  If I had the guts. If I didn’t mind letting him see beneath the facade I keep up around everyone in my life. If I wasn’t so damn scared.

  Instead, I take another long, numbing swig.

  “You know what? I do feel a little cold.” I fumble around on the floor for a sweater. Even though the rain has let up, it’s still misty and the air has a bite to it. Of course, getting busy with Carter would also edge out the chill, but I’m not sure if this is going where I think it’s going. “Wait, is this going to be one of those, ‘when you’re in college you’ll understand how the world is’ lectures?”

  Carter holds his hands up surrender style, and his voice goes cool. “No lectures from me.”

  I’m not a dumb girl by any means, and I know that flames of lust can cool quickly. Which is, I guess, what’s happening with Carter and me.

  It’s fine. Disappointing, but, I’m used to that. And it’s safer. He might actually get me to share stuff with him that I’m not really ready to share, and that would be asking for heartache later on. If this isn’t going to be a simple hook-up, it’s better to know that now.

  “Good,” I say, taking another generous swig from my flask and throwing my shoulder against the door to open it. I definitely need some 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.