Friends With Partial Benefits Read Online Free PDF Page A

more.
    "Jillian?"
    "Yes," she replied in a pained voice.
    "Would you bring in a couple of pencils?" he yelled out loudly.
    She frowned. After scooping the rest of vegetables into the cup, she added milk and opened the door a little more, repeating the process a fourth time. This time, she held the cup about four feet above the bowl and provided a louder groan, which she directed out the door. Then she rushed to the door, inching out into the hallway just enough so she could see if her theatrics were getting a reaction.
    When she left him, James had been slumped back against the sofa, leafing through his relationship material. Now, he was sitting straight up, looking horrified, staring straight ahead with his eyes bugging out.
    Satisfied, Jillian returned to the bathroom, flushed twice, and ran the water while she collected the few vegetables that remained scattered over the sink. She splashed some water on her face, turned off the faucet, and returned to the great room, holding her stomach. James wore an odd expression.
    "Are you okay?" he asked.
    "You didn’t hear any of that, did you?"
    His eyes darted back and forth as he said, "No, I, uh, well—"
    "Wow. That was... Sorry. I had to open the door. I was dying," she said while waving her hand in front of her face. "There’s no window in there."
    Standing, he began placing his books into his briefcase. "Maybe we should do this another time."
    "I’m so sorry about this," Jillian said. "Why don’t you leave the quiz with me, and I’ll e-mail it back to you?"
    James didn’t look at her as he said, "Uh, okay."
    He glanced at her and reluctantly handed her the papers as he rushed to the front door.
    Following him to the door, she watched with a guilty grin as he hurried to his car, never looking back. Then she closed the door, walked into the kitchen, grabbed the phone, and sat at the island, reviewing the quiz and shaking her head. A big smile appeared on her face as she dialed Victoria’s number.
     

7
     
    Brian sat with Natalie on her bed; they were making out once again. On this visit, there was no removal of Natalie’s shirt and bra, or anything else intimate, but Brian still enjoyed being with her and really wanted to give her some time. There was a knock at the door. Natalie got out of bed, walked over, and opened the door just enough to see who was there. From his angle, he couldn’t tell who it was. She whispered something through the tiny opening as he looked on curiously. She closed the door, told him she’d be back in a few minutes, and said he should read something while she was gone. Before he could say a word, she slipped out the door.
    After forty minutes, she still had not yet returned. Brian kept himself occupied by reading a few magazines and looking at her books. He checked the clock again, and when he put his hands back to lean against the wall, he noticed a book open but face down on the bed. Picking it up, he scanned the page. Once he realized it was her diary, he quickly put it back down. He placed it back where he found it and glanced over at it a few times. He considered the phrase that had caught his eye; it was something about being in love with him or thinking she was in love with him. He stared at the book, desperate to know but hesitant to invade her privacy. Remembering she told him to read something, he also thought about her leaving him in that room for so long with the diary right out in the open. He was convinced that she intended for him to read it. Maybe it held the secret to why she could not get close to him, and this was her way of telling him. After glancing once more at the clock, he grabbed the diary. He read the important entry, which was:
     
     
    I think I’m falling in love with him, but I just can’t give myself to him yet because of you know. There’s too much pressure. I need some space now, but I hope he will wait for me because I know I will get there soon.
     
     
    He read the entry a couple of times with a smile