Leakage: A Friends-to-Lovers Romance Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  ©2016 KAREN HARLEY

  About This Book

  EPISODE 1

  THE SCHEME

  EPISODE 2

  BACKSTAGE

  FIRST FRIDAY—JASMINE AND MATT

  FIRST FRIDAY—SARA AND HARRISON

  POST-COITUM—SARA AND HARRISON

  POST-COITUM—JASMINE AND MATT

  EPISODE 3

  SECOND FRIDAY—JASMINE AND HARRISON

  THIRD FRIDAY— SARA AND HARRISON

  THIRD FRIDAY—JASMINE AND MATT

  SARA AND HARRISON REDUX

  EPISODE 4

  FOURTH FRIDAY— SARA AND HARRISON

  FOURTH FRIDAY—JASMINE AND MATT

  GHOST LIGHT

  EPISODE 5

  LAST FRIDAY— SARA AND HARRISON

  LAST FRIDAY—JASMINE AND MATT—PERIL

  LAST FRIDAY—JASMINE AND MATT—SHELTER

  Acknowledgments

  LEAKAGE

  A FRIENDS-TO-LOVERS ROMANCE

  (Previously published as Eight to Midnight)

  Karen Harley

  ©2016 KAREN HARLEY

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Any character's resemblance to any person living or dead is a total coincidence; nobody herein is supposed to be real. Any references to familiar people, locations, events, or products are used purely to make the fictional world look authentic, not to claim any association with, permission by, or endorsement of said referents. It's just to tell a story so it sounds good.

  Except for brief excerpts used in critical reviews, no part of this publication may be copied or distributed in any form or in any way without the rights holder's prior written permission.

  About This Book

  Neighbors. Roommates. Friends.

  That's all Matt, Jasmine, Sara and Harrison have allowed themselves to be—until the wild night Sara dares them all to change.

  The challenge is simple: One night a week they break through the friend zone to teach each other how to stop manwhoring...stop picking loser boyfriends...relax...and have better relationships.

  With one important rule. What happens between eight and midnight stays under the covers. Nothing can spill over into their friendship—or it all ends.

  A rule made to be broken...

  Meet the Players:

  Matt: Manwhore and babe magnet. Spends his days blogging about toys and shagging women.

  Jasmine: Ice queen and workaholic. Refuses to take Matt's flirtations seriously.

  Harrison: Geek and gentleman. Would rather read Dostoyevsky than sweep a girl off her feet.

  Sara: Pushover. Secretly drools over Harrison, who treats her like a sister. And way, way too impulsive...

  Originally published in serial episodes as Eight to Midnight: A Best Friends Romance

  Intended for mature readers at least 18 years of age because of language and spicy situations.

  EPISODE 1

  CURTAIN UP

  FROM: Sara Brogan

  TO: JasmineFrazier

  SUBJECT: Favor please

  Hi Roomie,

  My boss is making me stay late because of some last minute clients. Could you walk Pencil? He just needs fifteen minutes or so outside so he's not too spastic. Oh and for once IT'S NOT RAINING! And it's a FULL MOON so you should have no problem seeing the poop in the dark so I don't even feel too guilty asking you. Or should I?? I know how busy you are. Also is there any beer left in the fridge or should I pick some up on the way home? I think the guys were swinging by tonight.

  -Sara

  FROM: JasmineFrazier

  TO: Sara Brogan

  SUBJECT: Re: Favor please

  I just got home. I don't mind walking Pencil. Yes, Matt came by for some laundry soap and said he and Harrison would come over as soon as Harrison got home. No need to stop for beer because I just found my parents' bribe for the crap they're piling on me while they're gone. A lovely bottle of port. I think you'll like.

  -Jasmine

  Text Transcript

  MATT: Jasmine says they have port. Quality. We're invited.

  HARRISON: Thank fuck. Coming home late.

  MATT: Sucky day?

  HARRISON: Whole week. Females mystify me. I need a how-to manual.

  MATT: Cry on Sara's shoulder about it.

  HARRISON: I just might. Any hope you cleaned the stove?

  MATT: None.

  HARRISON: Then I'm stopping for dinner. You going over to the girls' place now?

  MATT: No, I'm eating/working now. I'll wait till you get here. Saw Sara this morning, BTW. Looking tasty in skinnies.

  HARRISON: I honestly don't need to know that.

  MATT: Just sayin'

  HARRISON: Jasmine's earrings are still on the table. One of us should remember to bring them over.

  HARRISON: You there?

  MATT: Busy

  HARRISON: One more thing, did she have laundry detergent?

  MATT: Yeah. Donated a big tub.

  HARRISON: Port and laundry soap. We're due to recompense.

  MATT: Port was a gift from her folks. Gave her money for soap.

  HARRISON: Did she snark?

  MATT: Always

  HARRISON: Am I imagining that she's snarkier with you?

  MATT: Nope.

  HARRISON: Any clue why?

  MATT: Yup.

  HARRISON: One day I'll understand women.

  MATT: That's what Sara's for. She's your link to the female mind.

  HARRISON: She's the most confusing of all.

  MATT: Beg to differ

  HARRISON: Besides, I wouldn't want to even go there with Sara. Platonic friendships with women = peace and calm. Don't rock the boat.

  HARRISON: You there?

  HARRISON: Matt?

  HARRISON: Later

  THE SCHEME

  "Wow, Jas," Sara burst out. "I've never actually seen you drunk before. Or you either, Harrison."

  Neither Jasmine nor Harrison answered. And that was just one of the things wrong with tonight.

  It had started so well, too. Cozy nights with the guys were always fun. This Tuesday in Seattle it was weirdly clear and cold even for January. When Matt and Harrison, her across-the-hall neighbors, had wandered by her and Jasmine's apartment a couple of hours ago, Sara had pumped up the furnace to high. Now it was blazing hot and Pencil, her fluffy Havanese dog, was whining.

  Everyone had started the evening doing their usual thing. It was comfortable. But then things had…changed.

  Maybe it was the port. Sara preferred beer. She had to admit the liquor, courtesy of her roommate's rich parents, was very nice, but she didn't like sweet stuff nearly as much as Jasmine did. Jasmine's sweet tooth maybe explained why she was no longer sitting at the dining room table tapping on her small laptop computer with her elegant, red-tipped fingers but instead was draped ass-up over the arm of the high fake leather sofa, clawing at the carpet and whimpering, "They're gone, they're gone."

  Which in itself was very wrong. Jasmine did not do drunk. Sara's roommate was always, but always, cool and reserved.

  Everyone seemed lost in their own world. Not that that never happened. Keeping company with Matt and Harrison had become a regular thing for her and Jas, a kind of convenience. But usually they randomly shot the breeze in between doing their own thing.

  Tonight, though….

  It was depressing.

  They were in a rut.

  It was worse than depressing. Because Harrison was drunk, too. And awfully cute. She had never seen him like this. Usually he sat formally on the sofa frowning at his tablet, looking like the professor he would probably be
one day. One day after they had all moved away from the building and he lived in a big house with a similarly brilliant wife, probably on Mercer Island…

  But right now he was plopped on the floor not far from Jasmine's legs, slumped back along the front of the sofa, a drink in hand, staring into space. Over the course of the night, the Russian history documents he'd been thumbing through had scattered themselves across the floor.

  Sara's eyes soaked him up. Even in those conservative chinos and the button-down shirt, the man was a thing of wonder. His dirty blond hair was tousled and boyish, but the body down below wasn't the least boyish. She felt like crawling over to him, grabbing him by the collar and ripping that preppie shirt right off his hunky chest. Unfortunately, fancy-schmancy doctoral students like Harrison Thomasson didn't interest themselves that way with down-to-earth massage therapy assistants like Sara. Especially this one, who treated her like a little sister.

  So no shirt-ripping, she thought sadly. No jumping him to hump him. Just being good old platonic Sara as always….

  It was really beginning to get old.

  "Gone, gone…" Jasmine's husky voice whined. She leaned down even further, almost bumping her head on the floor.

  Sara smiled ruefully. Jasmine was tall, slim, and usually elegant and graceful. If it had been a normal day—if it had been Sara's semi-sheer blouse unbuttoned down to her cleavage—the guys would have had something to say. Matt would have whistled and Harrison would have called her out for indecency.

  But this was Jasmine, spared a risqué reveal since she sported two cupcake tops instead of boobs. Women with flat chests just never had to think about certain things.

  And they were all ignoring each other.

  From her side-lying position on the floor, she scratched Pencil's neck. "Come on, everyone. What happened to you guys tonight? Is it the full moon or what? Matt, have you ever seen either of them like this?"

  "Mm." Matt, at least, was doing his usual thing. He'd hooked one lean, muscular, jean-clad leg casually over the arm of the recliner and was zooming his hand through the air with some metallic toy. He twiddled a lever up and down. With his tousled black hair, he managed to look boyish even with his loose-limbed, athletic build. Matt had the angular body of an Olympic diver, which was odd, because it was the bulkier Harrison, not Matt, who was the resident swimmer.

  "Matt!" Sara snapped her fingers.

  Matt's lazy-lidded gaze drifted her way. "Say what?"

  "You, too! Honestly, what is it with everybody tonight? Just look at them." Sara gestured towards the two zombies by the sofa. "Jasmine's emptied nearly the whole bottle of port and your roommate's been sitting like that for the past twenty minutes."

  "What are you—ah." Matt studied the two by the sofa for a minute, especially Jasmine. "No comment."

  "They're gone," Jasmine moaned. "They're just gone."

  Sara couldn't help but giggle. "Who's gone, Jas?"

  "My shoes." Jasmine sounded seriously traumatized.

  "Try looking under the sofa," Matt suggested blandly.

  Something in his tone made Sara glance his way again. He was still watching Jasmine, absently stroking the toy he held in his hand. Sara was pretty sure she knew what held his attention. Her roommate seemed unaware that her formerly immaculate skirt was now hiked up past the edge of her black panties.

  "No!" Sara said quickly. "Don't look under the sofa or you'll fall over. Come on, sit down, Jasmine. Your skirt needs fixing. Matt, don't tease her. She's totally wasted."

  "I'm not wasted, I'm mad," Jasmine corrected, wriggling around until she was sitting almost properly, except for her skirt, which despite her tugging barely covered the region of her crotch.

  "Why are you mad?" Sara asked.

  "Because that asshole cheated on me. They all cheat, those bastards. Is it hot in here or is it just me?" Jasmine slipped two more buttons out of the buttonholes of her blouse, and now her black bra was pretty much obvious. Between the bra and the panties, she was exposing basically everything, but Sara didn't think she was aware of it.

  Should she say something? Nah. If Jasmine wanted to get wild drunk, then she didn't need a bossy parent-type hanging over her. Besides, it was just the guys, and they were all good buddies.

  She was kind of surprised, though, that Matt shifted his leg but said nothing more. He usually took every opportunity to casually flirt with the girls on nights like this.

  Not that he ever made a serious move toward either of them. He didn't need to. Matt had more than his share of females falling all over him because of his sexy dark Irish looks, his blue eyes and mischievous smile, and the fact that in his own laid-back way, he oozed sexual confidence. The fact that he had plenty of opportunity elsewhere was a relief as far as Sara was concerned, because she had trouble looking at him as anything but a pal.

  Now, his roommate, on the other hand….

  "Harrison! Yo!" Matt said.

  Harrison jerked his head around. "Sorry. Zoning."

  "You're looking like someone kicked your cat. If you had one."

  "She left me," Harrison explained morosely. "She said I've been boring ever since I came back from Russia. She wanted a party animal. I can't be a party animal. She knows I'm defending my dissertation this spring. "

  "You're talking about Jean whatsername?" Matt yawned. "Blond? No-wasabi-on-my-sashimi-thanks Jean?" Matt tossed down the toy and gave a long cat stretch of his body. Sara eyed his form with appreciation. He really was yummy in those tight jeans. So why was it Harrison she daydreamed over, rather than the far-more-accessible Matt? "So you guys were a thing."

  Harrison shrugged. "She liked curling up with hot chocolate with marshmallows, so I assumed…."

  "Oh, puhlease," Sara snorted, and Matt rolled his eyes. Harrison was something of an idiot when it came to reading women. At 28, he might be the oldest of all of them, but sophistication-wise, he was even younger than Sara. Harrison just didn't get women at all. He thought the way to court a girl was to read passages from Dostoyevsky over coffee.

  Now, Sara wouldn't mind that kind of thing a bit. She could happily listen to his charismatic timbre reciting dictionary entries all night if that's what rocked his boat. But it wasn't people like Sara he went for.

  He didn't exactly go for any of them, actually. He didn't have to. They went for him. His Nordic good looks and absent-minded green-eyed gaze drew passersby like magnets. Harrison got more social media friendings and sexual offers from frisky women and men than anyone they knew. He seemed mystified by it.

  "I miss her. Jean was very good at sex," Harrison said clearly. "But I don't think I satisfied her."

  Sara heard Matt's muffled laughter and glared at him. He raised one eyebrow at her.

  "I think Harrison's sweet to be concerned," she said. "All men should try to satisfy women in bed."

  Matt's eyes gleamed. "Try? Or succeed?"

  Which made Harrison sigh.

  "I think you're wasted in academia, Harry," Jasmine said in a sing-song voice. "Honestly, with your classic good looks, you should have been a movie star. You can always take acting lessons." She leaned forward and patted his head, something she never would do normally.

  That settled it for Sara. Jasmine was officially having an off day.

  Sara remembered the day almost three years ago when she'd met Jasmine in Sara's boss's office for a therapeutic massage, when both girls were 21. Jasmine was still in college; Sara had just finished community college the previous year. Sara had coaxed Jasmine into lunch and learned it had been Jasmine's first—and, as it turned out, last—massage. It seemed Jasmine really disliked casual touching. She kept a definite distance between herself and other people—in all ways. Occasionally she took men as lovers, but they never stayed around long, probably, Sara thought, because of Jasmine's problem with intimacy.

  "So you both just got dumped." Sara shook her head in sympathy. "Well, that explains everything. I'm sorry, guys, that truly sucks. As for me, I swore off men last month.
"

  "Seriously, gorgeous?" Matt said. "Come on over here. I'll fix what ails you."

  Sara wrinkled her nose at him, knowing he didn't mean it. "Don't tempt me. I love male type people way too much."

  "That's for sure, Sara," Harrison said somberly, his voice slurred. "I keep telling you. You need to be more discriminating about your dates or it'll get you into trouble one day."

  "I know I shouldn't go out with every guy that asks me," she admitted. She was well aware of her flaws but only a little concerned about them. "Men are just so lovely, even the big old cuddly ones. So warm, so strong. So…"

  "Quick to take advantage of you," Jasmine said loudly. "People are always taking advantage of you, Sara. Your bosses, your family..." Sara winced, because it was true that she spent a lot of time on the phone helping her mom through some man problem or other. "Even me, your own roommate. But especially men."

  Jasmine said "men" like it was a bad word. Sara caught Matt's gaze fixed curiously on Jasmine.

  "I guess so," Sara said wistfully. "But I like being with them anyway."

  "And cooking for them. And giving them rubdowns, and running errands. While they don't do anything for you in return."

  "Yeah, well. I've been listening to you guys, all right? That's why I decided to swear 'em off for a while. I can't say 'no.' To anything."

  "Why bother saying 'no'?" Matt said. "Life is for living. Sex is good. Play is good. Life's short. Look," he went on in low voice, "why don't you just take off that shirt?"