Simplemente Amigos Novels & Stories

-He mentions full of curiosity. -What do you say we don't tell each other our real names and pretend to call each other something else? I mean, let's pretend we're not the ones who are here. -proposed the young woman. -Ah, you want to play? I love the idea. -My name is Priscila, it's a pleasure to meet you. -The pleasure is all mine, Miss Priscila, call me Simon. They both shook hands and continued talking about their lives that they are inventing step by step. While that happens, Imanol is desperate inside the living room because he can't find Jandé, his friends are also looking for her with no result.

– L Shoot. – S So, my mates and I have officially formed a pack now. It’s called Moonveil Pride. – L Ooooh, fancy. Congrats! What’s the question? – S Well… would you and your mates consider joining? – L Wait, seriously? Do you want us to be part of your pack? – S Of course. You’re my best friend, Simone. I trust you more than anyone, and having you and your mates with us would make it feel… complete. – L

She straightened and shook her head, ‘Mi dispiace ragazzi, davvero, ma siete entrati davvero in quella situazione e so che siete solo 'amici con benefici' con le vostre signorine. Andate, divertitevi, avete tutta la mia benedizione.' [I’m sorry guys, truly I am, but you really walked into that one and I know you are just ‘friends with benefits’ with your young ladies. Go, enjoy yourselves, you have my full blessing.]

I knew instantly who'd done it. Before long, the Internet was piling on. "Ten years is more than enough to leave someone in the dust. Mark seriously thinks he can beat Jerome? The same guy he personally shipped overseas to study? What a joke." Then one comment caught my attention. "Is it just me, or is he actually the guy who used to simp for the Burkes' long-lost daughter they just found?" "Nah, you've got it wrong. That's the Swain heir. Why would he be simping for her?"

always acting thoughtlessly before considering the other person’s feelings. “He’s just a friend,” is the reply I give to his question, probably unconvincingly. Well, it’s not completely a lie. We are friends; it's not like he's my boyfriend or anything. Before I know it, we’re already at the top of the third flight of stairs. The night we had felt like a mediocre date, ending in the guy walking me to my door with hopes of coming inside. The sexual attraction certainly was there, although mentally it felt like we were not on the same page. Suddenly I feel nervous.

'No friend, on the house'. I said "OK." I felt a little thirsty and drank a long pull on the bottle. It was cold and refreshing. I was thankful at that moment. I should have known something was up when I offered Tammie a drink of my beer and someone stopped me. "Ninguin amigo que sea para ti le conseguire algo." 'No friend that is for you, I will get her something.'

“I’m Madam Simpson, the owner of this orphanage. How can I help you?” At first, Mike did a double take on Madam Simpson. Could it be the same Madam Simpson his mother-in-law talked about? She looked innocent. “Nice to meet you, Madam Simpson, I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Mike Afonso and this is my wife,” he pointed at Amelia. “And my friend and his girlfriend.” He pointed at Steve and Sharon. Madam Simpson’s gaze moved slowly on them as if she were studying them. “Okay.”

“Oh—yeah. Erm… this is Johnson. My brother’s best friend.” “Bonjour,” Johnson said, squinting slightly. “Désolé, but do I know you?” Camila laughed politely. “Not at all, I don’t think so.” Her attention shifted to Chelle. “And you must be…?” “And this is Chelle,” Simon said, pausing—just for a second too long. “An old friend.” Camila extended her hand. “Nice to meet you, Chelle.” Chelle took it. Her grip was light, almost unsure. She smiled, said nothing.

“You won’t.” “People don’t usually stay friends after they… you know. Do everything else.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Then let’s make it simple.” “Simple?” “Yeah. Friends with benefits.” I laughed. “You’re joking.” “I’m not. No labels. No pressure. Just us. Fun, no expectations.” It sounded ridiculous. But also tempting. So tempting. “So we sleep together,” I said, “and pretend we don’t care?” “We don’t care,” he said, holding my gaze.

I stopped dead. “You’re interrupting my movie”, “Be careful, you’re losing your cold self”, I pulled the blanket over us. “Being super nice”, I snuggled into him, resting my head on his chest “That’s what friends are for”, he whispered. But were we really friends? Or were we just ignoring the skeleton in the room? This feeling, this attraction pulling us together. I knew we both felt it, the energy surging through us. Friends. The word tasted sour in my mouth. We could try at being friends and nothing more.