Free Friend Is a Four Letter Word by Steph Campbell Page A

it’s not. It’s just Carter.
    “You’re forgetting something,” he says, his voice low and sexy in my ear. I wait, my body trembling, as he walks to a side table, slides open the drawer and picks up one glinting diamond stud. He walks it back over and hands it to me.
    “If I knew you were actually headed across the whole damn country, I would have at least made reservations somewhere good.” He places the earring on my palm, the same way he put my car key there on Christmas Eve. “So, tell me the truth, Shayna. Why are you here?”
    He’s standing too close. All I can see is Carter, and all I can smell is his aftershave. All I can hear is his voice in my ears. I want to scream that I came for freedom and to find myself and, yes, I also came because I wanted to see if what we had in text and phone form could translate into something amazing once we were face to face.
    But I chicken out. I start my whole renaissance with a stupid, bumbling lie.
    “I had—you know this thing across town and—” I stumble over my words. Why didn’t I come up with a story on the drive over?
    Carter reaches out and slips the duffel from my shoulder. “Why don’t you sit down. I’ll order in some food.”
    “I don’t want to be in the way,” I say, my blood pumping hard under my skin.
    “Shayna, you’re not in the way. I was about to break for lunch anyway. You can keep me company. Come on, I haven’t seen you in forever. It’ll be good to catch up.”
    I let the last of the weight of my bag fall into Carter’s hand and then follow him back to the living room.
    “You really don’t have to do this,” I say, slumping back into the crazy comfortable chair.
    “I’m happy to. Like I said, it’ll give us a chance to catch up. One liner texts here and there don’t really tell the whole story. And we barely ever talk on the phone. Which sucks.”
    He’s right. Things are missed in informal text messages. Carter didn’t mention a move. But I failed to mention my entire life detonating. I don’t want to catch up. I want to forget. He starts rummaging through a drawer. “There’s a great deli down the street that delivers. Sandwiches okay?”
    Carter offers to let me shower while we wait for the food, which I happily take him up on. It’s been three days since I’ve seen hot water and I don’t wait for him to ask twice.
    But it still feels strange to be here at all.
    Once I’ve pulled on fresh leggings and a comfortable sweatshirt, I twist my still damp hair back into a sloppy bun and make my way back to my chair.
    I love how I’ve already claimed furniture in his house as my own.
    Carter has food set up and I waste no time diving in.
    “This is delicious,” I say around a thick roast beef sandwich with provolone and spicy mustard.
    “Good, glad you like it. One of the best parts about living here is that everything is super close. You could stay in the apartment forever and have anything you needed delivered in a half hour.”
    “Do you spend a lot of time here?” I glance around, and notice that it’s gorgeous, but a little cramped to never leave.
    Carter wipes his mouth. “I try not to. In fact, I’m going camping Saturday. As much as I like it here, it’s good to get away, too.”
    “I hear that,” I say. He goes camping, I skip several state lines.
    “So, when was the last time we saw each other?” Carter asks. I know exactly when it was, but I pause and tilt my head like I’m racking my memory.
    “I guess it was that Christmas,” I try to hold back the smile that pulls at the corners of my mouth, but I can’t do it. And it’s okay, because I see a grin form on Carter’s face as well.
    He smirks and nods. “That was a good one.”
    I push the crumbs from the sandwich I’ve just devoured around on my plate with a scrap of crust and debate whether or not I should tell him. Tell him that after he dropped me off that night, my entire life changed.
    “It was,” I say.
    “And since then, what