My Brothers Best Friend [18+]

Chapter Twenty

On Monday's we regret all of our life choices. 

"I mean, how did I get here?" I ask Chelsea, my feet up on the round table. 

The oval room smells like citrus today, probably because there's a huge basket of fruit in the centre of the room for some reason, cellophane sparkling in the sunlight that pours through the windows. 

It makes me crave oranges. 

"Seriously," I whine. "Noah is like the perfect human being. He's sweet and he's dedicated to his job and he puts up with Matt's bullshit like he's taking care of a kid." 

Chelsea continues staring at me, the green streak in her hair now a fluorescent orange. Her eyeshadow matches the change. 

"How did I end up living with someone who drives me to work everyday without complaint, and does the dishes every night, and looks at me like I'm the only girl he's ever seen in his life?" 

I fake a sob for dramatic effect. 

"Wow, you didn't mention how hot he is once." 

She ducks as I throw my pen at her. 

"What am I going to do?" 

Chelsea rolls her eyes. I'm so used to her being unbothered by my problems that it doesn't faze me; I know the advice follows anyway. 

"Haven't you just spent the past half an hour talking about how upset Matt would be? That he practically forbade you from going for it?" 

"He didn't use the word forbid," I mutter. 

She stares at me. 

I take a sip of my vanilla latte. 

"Noah is off-limits. Sounds kind of spicy, doesn't it?" 

I should've brought more pens with me. Throwing one clearly wasn't enough. 

Chelsea coughs. "Maybe you're thinking about it all wrong. You're thinking about it like you'll both fall in love or something, when really, maybe you're both just... sexually charged." My eyebrows furrow. "Matt wouldn't know if you just did it once to get it out of your system." 

I consider it for a second, which is a sign that I've been friends with Chelsea for too long because her advice with men is never good. 

"What if one time doesn't get it out of my system?" 

She grins. 

"Was it that good?" 

My eyes roll of their own accord. Telling her about each instance with Noah felt important to the narrative, and now I fear I won't hear the end of it. 

"I need advice." 

"You need sex." 

She's completely useless. 

I look over to the basket of fruit again, admiring the mixture of colours within it. I'm sure there's an orange in there somewhere that I could snack on - but why is it here? In our office, like some sort of big romantic gesture that's waiting to happen. 

"What's with the fruit?" I ask.

Chelsea continues to scroll on her phone, shrugging half-heartedly. 

"Probably for the meeting. Which is in ten minutes by the way, and I haven't even seen you check your emails yet." 

She's right. I got into work this morning, late because Noah showered for too long and thus Matt got into the bathroom later than usual and our whole morning routine fell apart, and immediately dragged Chelsea into the meeting room.