Good Girl (Love Unexpectedly 2)

“Hey, she was unusually tall, which gave me the unusual opportunity and prime angle to—”

I slap my hands over my ears and start singing Billy Joel’s “Piano Man,” my default protective gesture whenever Ben gets a little too colorful with descriptions of his sexual antics.

Another house rule: Parker absolutely does not want to know what happens in Ben’s bedroom.

“Hey, do you and Lance have plans today?” he asks.

“Maybe you should have asked that before you mandated an IKEA trip. But no, he’s got an all-day study group.”

Lance is getting his MBA from the University of Portland.

“Cool. Let’s grab lunch after.” He heads into his bedroom without looking at me.

Lunch, huh?

I narrow my eyes and sprint up the stairs after him, pushing open his door before he can shut it in my face.

Sure enough, his dresser is definitely leaning unhealthily to one side, and I count two, no make that three, condom wrappers.

He pulls a green polo from the tiny closet in the corner and looks around his messy floor until he finds his jeans.

I wait expectantly.

“What?” he asks.

“Lunch?” I lift my brows. And wait for the explanation.

Ben scratches idly at his slightly stubbled chin. Sharing a bathroom with the guy, I know he shaves every morning, but the stubble seems to be perpetual.

“Well, you know that girl I dated a couple weeks ago? Kim?” he asks. “She wanted me to go to her sister’s engagement brunch, and I told her I was busy all day. But she’s just crazy enough to stop by and see if I’m actually out of the house, so I thought we should be elsewhere….”

I hold up a hand. “Fine. I’ll be your alibi. But I get to pick the restaurant, and you’re buying. Oh, and you have to put the toilet seat down every day for an entire week.”

He raises his hand as though wanting to say something in class. “I’d like to add a house rule: Parker isn’t allowed to tell Ben how to pee.”

“You don’t make the house rules. I do. And I didn’t tell you how to pee,” I say exasperatedly as he wrenches open a dresser drawer and pulls out a pair of boxers. “I’m trying to do your future wife a favor by teaching you how not to be a pig.”

He inches by me into the hallway. “Another house rule: Parker shalt not say profanities as future wife to a dedicated bachelor.”

“You’re not a dedicated bachelor. You’re just a typical horny twenty-four-year-old dude, and, again, you don’t make the house rules—hey!”

He shuts the door to our shared bathroom in my face, and too late I realize that I’d missed all the classic signs of a skilled Ben Olsen diversion. He’d just wanted to beat me into the bathroom.

“Don’t use all the hot water!” I shout, pounding my palm on the door.

The door opens just enough for me to see one blue eye blinking back at me. “Didn’t you say Polly had a tangle? You better go get on that.”

The door shuts again, and I pound a second time. “Remember, the green towel is mine. The white one is yours.”

I wait for confirmation, but there’s only silence.

“Ben, I know you can hear me! Don’t ‘accidentally’ use mine just because yours smells funny.”

More silence.

Damn it. He is so planning to use my towel.

So, yeah, my best friend is a guy. Doesn’t mean I have to like it all the time.