The Friendship Equation

By Suze Robinson

What happens when you fall for your best friend just in time to lose her?

 

Molly is a pastry chef with a dedicated path to running a kitchen in New York to escape the looming shadow of never being enough in her father's kitchen. 

 

Adam is a math teacher with a commitment to his family and their small seaside hometown. Leaving home just isn't something he can do; not when so many people rely on him. 

 

They are roommates and best friends who were always together... until things shift out of the friend zone. Once they find out their time together is limited, and an undeniable chemistry is unleashed, how will they figure out how to move forward as just friends?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Inkspell Publishing
• Release date: Feb 16, 2021
• ISBN: 9781953335104

Book preview

The Friendship Equation

Suze Robinson

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

––––––––

If you purchase this book without a cover you should be aware that this book may have been stolen property and reported as unsold and destroyed to the publisher. In such case the author has not received any payment for this stripped book.

––––––––

The Friendship Equation

Copyright © 2021 Suze Robinson

All rights reserved.

––––––––

ISBN: (ebook) 978-1-953335-10-4

(Print) 978-1-953335-11-1

Inkspell Publishing

207 Moonglow Circle #101

Murrells Inlet, SC 29576

––––––––

Edited By Ashley Bobek

Cover art By Najla Qamber

––––––––

This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission. The copying, scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions, and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

DEDICATION

To the dreamers out there—stay the course and alter when your heart says it’s time.

CHAPTER ONE

Molly

I’ve never seen something look this yummy before.

Well, there was this one time I caught Adam stepping from the bathroom after a hot shower. The fog poured around him, and his towel hung low on his hips. The water glistened off his naked chest. My gaze stayed on the hard ripples of his abdomen and dirty thoughts raced through my mind about what he sported behind the white terry cloth.

To my utter disappointment, after all these years knowing Adam, I still have no idea. I sure can imagine it well. That’s one of my darkest secrets though because Adam is my roommate and best friend.

I bite my lip hard to refocus my attention on the yummy dessert I’m creating instead of my gorgeous best friend. The task is difficult, but with a drizzle of chocolate sauce, my pastry is complete.

I place the white plate on the metal window and yell, Order up.

There’s a low murmur of voices in the kitchen tonight. A clink and clatter of plates hitting the countertops with the din of metal skillets on the range accompany me as I work on my next order. Chocolate sauce infuses into the air around me.

This restaurant has been my home for my entire life, and cooking has been the central focus of my world for as long as I can remember. When other children reminisce about their first time riding a bike—I recall my first time pan-searing scallops or creating a risotto instead. As every high-schooler remembers going to prom and experiencing the torture of dancing or charming the opposite sex, I embrace the experience of working on the line during my first dinner service. The sweat and sounds of a kitchen are forever etched into my memory.

Two salmon for table seven, my father’s booming voice sounds, and our responses are instant, even mine. Yes, chef is murmured in unison like the well-oiled kitchen brigade we are. The respect my father commands in his kitchen is unparalleled and inspiring. One day, I too, will command such high respect in my own kitchen. The extent of respect I get now is being Chef Luca Costa’s little girl, although I’m twenty-four, fresh out of college, and have been working the line in this kitchen since I was sixteen.

I drop my spoon when Carmen knocks into my arm. Watch what you’re doing, blondie, She growls at me, then moves to place an order in the window, shouting, Order up, before she slides down the line again.

My gaze is icy as I observe Carmen, a Michelin star chef who’s worshipped where she walks on this tiled kitchen floor. Her chef whites are starched and pressed, her back straight as she calls out her times, keeping the kitchen running smoothly with little effort on her part. She’s graceful and poised, in charge and demanding respect like my father. Her black hair is cropped short and severe, sitting at her hard jawline. I don’t know what my father sees in her when my gaze connects with her hard, gray eyes.

Five minutes on the salmon. Her pink lips press in a thin line. I’m distracted by my wandering thoughts because her attention lands on me. Blondie, focus, or get the fuck out of my kitchen.

I fumble, then regain myself in time to catch an eye roll from her. It won’t matter how hard I work in this kitchen, I will never commandeer the respect I want. I’ll always live in her shadow or my father’s as long as I work here. This is their kitchen. The staff thinks I got this job because I’m his daughter and not because I earned it by giving up some of the best years of my life to sweat behind this line.

While most college girls were partying or going out with guys, I buried myself behind my business textbooks and spent my late evenings closing up the restaurant. It will never be enough and that’s where my second daydream comes in.

Escaping Oak Ridge, South Carolina, and Castellan, my family-owned seaside restaurant, to work in my own kitchen in New York City.

With those dreams dancing in my mind, I plaster a serene smile on my face and finish out my dinner service. Because when life gives you lemons, you squeeze the fuck out of them and turn it into something delicious like a lemon tart. I will not cower or fall no matter how tough things get. My mother taught me that.

Order up, my voice is loud and firm, which earns me a snicker from Dominic, Carmen’s sous chef.

Despite how much I try, my voice has a soft melodic ring to it and Dominic thinks I’m young. He’ll say, Blondie’s just tryin’ to be a big girl.

Don’t let him get to you, Molly, you’re better than this. I put all my focus toward plating instead of Dominic who’s watching me with his lingering gaze. We finish up dinner service and close down, and he watches me or winks my direction throughout the night.

He’s asked me, more than once, to become another notch on his bedpost. I’ve declined in every way possible. To say I’m not interested would be an understatement. My reputation as a serial dater does precede me though. Dominic is so far from my radar even sonar wouldn’t pick him up. I do have standards.

Have a good night, I tell the closing staff as I untie my apron and walk out the back door. I make my way across the parking lot. It’s raining hard, the coastal storm pounding at the asphalt, so I make it a sprint to safety. After a long night, I can’t wait to cuddle up in my bed with a good paranormal romance and let the stress from another night at the restaurant fade away.

I slide into the front seat and let a deep breath escape. Then I press the long blonde strands off my forehead as I slip my keys into the ignition. When I turn it over, though, nothing happens.

Are you serious right now? I growl and try again. Nothing.

I just want to lie in bed and let the long day go. Is that too much to ask for? My head hits the steering wheel and a very unappealing groan escapes. I’ll never hear the end of this from Adam either. He’s told me repeatedly to get myself a new car, something reliable and steady. I refused, and instead, I created savings to follow my dreams. I’m a prepared, yet impulsive, person. I know when the opportunity presents itself, I’m moving to New York. I have been putting in applications and pray one of those will land me an interview. A car won’t be necessary once I make it, and I swore my little Jetta from high school was going to make it. How could she betray me like this?

We are so close. I pull my phone from my purse and open my text application, muttering to myself. I’m never going to live this down.

One thing about my best friend is he likes to be right. Adam’s been that way since we met in college my freshman year. Instead of reminiscing too much, I text him and hope he’s free to come save me.

Me: I need you. Can you pick me up from work? I’ll owe you forever.

Adam: How will you pay me back?

His response comes a few minutes later. There’s a way to pay him back, and I have to hold back all the other sexy ideas I have. You can’t really bring those up when you’ve been friend-zoned as I’ve been.

Unfortunately, Adam doesn’t see me that way. I’m not really long-term relationship potential anyway. Anyone who dreams of running away to a new city, works nonstop, and doesn’t see marriage or kids in the future isn’t someone you consider for a commitment.

After Nathan broke my heart my freshman year of college, I haven’t tried again. I also know Adam’s playing and I have the perfect solution to pay him back.

Me: I’ll make your favorite for dinner tomorrow.

Adam: Done. Be there in ten.

He’s so easy.

I close my phone and sit back to wait. It becomes the perfect time for me to relax. It’s all about perspective. I click my locks and grab my pepper spray then tilt my head back and close my eyes. My mind wanders like it tends to do. Even meditation doesn’t help. What can I say, I’m a dreamer. A wanderer, as my mother would say when I was younger. God, I miss her, even fourteen years later, her memories are hard for me to recall. I try to picture her blonde hair fluttering in the summer air. The memory gets fuzzier after all the years without her.

The tapping on my window draws my attention and with the rain falling hard, I can barely make out the shape of a man standing outside my window.

It’s me, let’s go, Adam yells. I open my door and make a beeline for Adam’s truck.

He’s parked close by and holds the passenger door open for me to jump in. The rain has fallen harder and my chef whites are soaked. They cling to me like a second skin. Adam runs around and jumps in the driver’s seat. I crank up the heater and patiently wait for his door to slam shut.

You owe me so much, Mols, he grumbles under his breath then pushes the strands of wet brown hair back from his forehead. I told you that old car was going to give you trouble.

Yes, I know. I’m making your favorite dinner tomorrow after work for payback. Why are you snapping at me right now? I say then glance over and see his jaw tic. Damn. Seriously, if it was such a big deal, you didn’t have to come and get me.

Shit, sorry. It has nothing to do with you. I’m not trying to be short. He shakes it off and I see my Adam return. It’s for the best, anyway, he says more to himself than to me, and I narrow my eyes.

What’s for the best?

Margo dumped me right before I drove over here.

Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t like Margo, so I’m not sorry about the fact she broke up with him, just that he’s going through a breakup again.

Over the four years of our friendship, we’ve both had our ups and downs when it comes to dating. Neither of us settling or finding the one, not that I’m trying. He does try though, usually securing someone for a year or so and they always have marriage potential. I, on the other hand, score a date here and there and keep him hooked for a couple of months. I keep relationships easy with no strings attached. It’s hard to worry about a relationship when you’re set on running when the opportunity presents itself. I also have some trust issues after my ex slept with my best friend from childhood.

I’m not upset. I saw a side of her tonight I don’t like, he says then pulls from the parking lot, heading downtown toward our house.

Yes, I like unbelievable amounts of torture, and living under the same roof as my gorgeous best friend ensures it on a daily basis.

Want to talk about what happened? I ask him.

Margo was a difficult one to put up with, so I can’t say I’m disappointed with the conversation. Whoever he finally marries, I’ll have to accept, but Margo wasn’t the one. She never treated him with the respect he deserves. Adam’s one of those all-in boyfriends, I’ve seen it in action many times, and it’s something I’ve never witnessed for myself from a guy. Whatever happened tonight to split them up is Margo’s fault. Or maybe I’ll always side with Adam.

Adam’s the model boyfriend. Always there and comforting, attentive and respectful, punctual on dates. I don’t get how he hasn’t landed the perfect woman.

It’s over, so there’s nothing to discuss. The same thing he always says.

Usually, I let it go, but tonight, I decide to press it harder. You always say that. I lean back and release a sigh. You’re the perfect boyfriend and any girl should be lucky you picked them. This is obviously all Margo’s fault.

CHAPTER TWO

Adam

There are so many reasons why the gorgeous woman next to me is my best friend, but she’s also the reason Margo left me tonight. I’m not about to confess that to her because it’s not Molly’s fault. It’s Margo’s jealousy, and I will not put that on Molly.

Can we let this go, please? My hands tighten on the steering wheel. I wait for Molly to let the conversation move on. I’ll never lie to her, so I hope she’ll let this go. The thing is, she’s been my best friend for the last four years, and I know how unlikely that is. Molly’s the persistent type.

Molly lets out a deep sigh that echoes softly throughout the truck and turns to look out my passenger window. She appears worn out again, like every night this week when she drags herself home. She needs to let some of the stress go and take shorter shifts with less overtime, but she’s saving to go to New York. She works hard to be ready when the opportunity comes. I find that inspiring about her.

I pull into our driveway and park. We jump out and run inside. Thanks to the coastal spring storm, we’re soaked by the time we step into the entryway. I flick on the light and toss my keys on the counter, making sure they land on the little ceramic dish she placed for me.

We work on slipping our shoes off next. We normally don’t do this routine together, but I find it peaceful doing it tonight. I’ve missed her, both of our lives have been too busy that we don’t get enough us time.

I’ll make us a quick dinner, Molly says as she sneaks off toward her bedroom.

I want to follow behind her. She’s about to slip those wet clothes from her body. The thoughts of seeing Molly naked come from left field. She’s been properly placed in the friend-zone years ago.

Yes, my best friend is gorgeous, curvy in all the right places, with that blonde hair landing in waves pouring down her back. It’s soaking wet right now as she pulls it up into a messy knot on top of her head, using an elastic around her wrist to tie it off. I watch the way her hips sway as she walks down the hall and slips into her room. A few moments later, she comes back into the living room in those short-as-fuck pink sleep shorts she wears and a threadbare tank top that sits snug against her breasts. Pure fucking torture.

My gaze trails down her toned legs. She’s always loved to run to clear her mind, and it shows.

I need to place her securely back in the friend zone where my mind doesn’t wander to her body.

Adam? Are you even listening to me?

My eyes snap up to her blue ones, and I catch her soft pink lips rising in a smirk. Those kids wore you out today, didn’t they? Go change and get comfortable, and I’ll start some dinner. Or have you eaten already?

I haven’t. I don’t correct her. Sure, my class was rambunctious as any set of ninth-graders can be, but it’s her distracting me. My thoughts are wild tonight when I see those legs of hers and imagine them wrapped around my waist. I shake off the thought and blame it on Margo and her heated words to me tonight. She said my relationship with Molly is something more than just friendship. We’ve always been together, and she’s my best friend. We’ve never explored anything on a physical level though. Early on, I found her attractive and had thoughts, like any man would, but she was with Nathan then, and he was my childhood best friend.

Molly and I have the perfect friendship now, one I won’t risk losing. My track record with women isn’t great, as tonight shows.

I step from the kitchen and into my bedroom, focusing my attention on a much simpler task than deciphering Margo’s words and my attractive best friend. With a deep sigh, I slip on a pair of gray sweats, not bothering with a shirt, and walk back down the hall.

Molly’s cooking, so I pull some papers from my bag to grade. Anything to focus my attention away from Molly and my heated thoughts of her. Also, I’m pissed at Margo and I don’t want Molly to catch wind of how much Margo has upset me tonight. Margo gave me an ultimatum, the same one women always give and I’m tired of it. Them or Molly. They never trust