Friends with Benefits Read Online Free PDF

driver? He told me he has friends who do that. He thinks it’s tacky. Anyway, Kiley, maybe you’re wrong. Maybe it was a guy who
sounded
like a girl.”
    â€œKiley, don’t listen to her,” Esme interjected. “And toss me the sunblock. He asked you out because he likes you. Why can’t you just accept that?”
    â€œBecause I don’t look like . . .” Kiley cast around until her eyes landed on the actress Kate Bosworth, who was on the opposite side of the pool drying off her perfect body after a swim. It was no shock that Kate was at the club, since the membership seemed to include most of the Hollywood A-list and a good part of the B-list-striving-desperately-to-be-on-the-A-list as well. “Like
her,
that’s why.”
    â€œOh, who gives a rat’s ass?” Lydia asked. She hadn’t meant to hurt Kiley’s feelings; she just wanted to be a loyal friend and tell it like it was. No sense not facing reality. In the Amazon basin, not facing reality could get you killed. Since she’d come back to America, she’d sometimes found it difficult to understand how exactly to act—the social rules were so different here. In Amazonia, you always watched your friend’s back, so you could knock off the poison snake that had just dropped onto it from a tree. Here, you had to make sure that your words wouldn’t hurt her fragile feelings. Who could figure it all out?
    â€œYou only say that because you
do
look like her,” Kiley explained. “I didn’t come to California to get all weirded out about my appearance.”
    Lydia narrowed her eyes and surveyed her friend, trying to be objective. Kiley was very cute, but she wasn’t skinny and never wore makeup or sexy clothes in a town where all the other girls seemed to look like models who’d be appearing at the upcoming FAB fashion shows. But Lydia knew better. Those girls weren’t naturally any hotter than Kiley. She’d seen the “Caught in Public” photo spreads in
US
magazine. Without expensive clothes, haircuts, bling, and a layer of war paint, most of the so-called stars looked—as they said in Texas—rode hard and put up wet. Lydia could fix Kiley. She was certain of it. She’d certainly memorized enough makeover articles.
    â€œWhat you need is a big ol’ dose of self-confidence,” Lydia said emphatically. “I’ve got it all planned out. I do your makeup, loan you a hot outfit—”
    â€œYou don’t
own
a hot outfit,” Kiley interrupted. “They all belong to your aunt Kat and her wife. Husband. Whatever she calls her partner.”
    â€œAnya,” Lydia declared. “She calls her Anya. Her name. They got married in Massachusetts.”
    â€œFine, whatever. My point is, even if you did own one, I wear a size ten and you wear a size three or something.”
    â€œYou wouldn’t believe how roomy some of Kat’s clothes are,” Lydia retorted. “There’s this gold Emanuel Ungaro silk tunic to die for—real low-cut—that falls from the bust in ripples and ends about here.” She held two fingers to her thigh a good six inches above her knees. “Kat wears it with pants but you could wear it with a little thong. Add some strappy Jimmy Choos— what size are you? Kat’s an eight.”
    â€œI’m not wearing your aunt’s clothes
or
her shoes,” Kiley said, making a face, “and I don’t own a thong. First of all, it’s just not me. Second of all, what are you going to do when she finally catches you stealing her stuff?”
    Lydia raised a forefinger. “It’s borrowing,” she corrected. “And I’m not worried. She’s doing all the big tennis tournaments this summer for ESPN, so she’s traveling a ton. Like, she’ll be in London for Wimbledon for almost two weeks. By the time she gets home from the studio, she’s so whipped she