Page 39 of Lost Love on 6th Street

Jolene twirls a finger through her blonde hair. She’s so coquettish in the way she presents herself, but I’ve seen her in meetings. The woman pulls no punches when she doesn’t like what’s being said. I admire people who can be exactly who they are despite the world trying to put them into boxes. “I mean, you could stay with Luke . . .”

“Okay, conversation over,” I say, attempting a joke, but betraying my uneasiness with the unsteadiness of my voice.

“You’re not doing any favors for this ‘nothing is going on’ narrative you’re trying to sell,” Jolene says. She tucks her hands on her stomach and stares me down. Not backing down.

I swallow. There are a lot of reasons I’m trying to push away my attraction to Luke. For one, I’m not convinced his flirting with me is coming from a place of actually wanting me. Too many times, I’ve been a pastime for men to throw their energy at until the woman they actually want comes along. For another, I’m not ready for anything more than what we have. At least . . . I don’t think I am.

Friendship requires a different kind of trust than dating someone, and dating someone requires a different trust than a full-blown relationship. I can trust a friend.

Can I trust someone who is more than that?

I’m not convinced I can quite yet . . .

“I tell you everything, Eleanor,” Jolene says. And that’s the truth. Every morning she walks in and tells me all the details of her life, from the dates she’s going on to something as banal as clipping her toenails. “You don’t owe me your life’s story, but it’s totally obvious that you have feelings for him that aren’t just friendly because every time we talk about him—” Jolene lifts her hands and pinches them. “You clam up completely.”

I chuckle.

My phone buzzes on the table between Jolene and me. We both peer down at it.

Luke’s name is on my phone screen.

I feel Jolene look at me so hard I’m afraid her eyes could peel my skin off.

“He’s texting you in the middle of the workday and nothing is going on?” she asks.

“People text people all the time,” I argue.

“Girl.”

I force myself to look at Jolene. Her chin is tipped down and she’s giving me that, “You’re full of shit,” look.

Neither of us speaks.

Jolene waits. And waits. The look growing more and more intense with each passing moment.

“Fine. I like him. Yes.”

“I knew it! Ha!” She claps her hands excitedly.

“But nothing is happening! We’re friends and—”

“Don’t give me that ‘we’re just friends’ BS. You seem like a sensible person, Eleanor, at least way more than me. I don’t believe you’d be fawning over a guy who wasn’t giving you the time of day, huh?”

I gnaw on my lower lips. She’s right. It’s not like Luke is pushing away my touch or trying to avoid spending time with me. In fact, he’s initiated most of our touching. He’s the one who has tried to draw out the time we spend together.

And I keep thinking about that moment at Allens when he stumbled into my back, and I felt him. I think I felt him.

Thick and hard at my back.

I’ve tried to push that thought away, but how can I? The thought of a pretty playboy getting all flustered like that over me is hard to comprehend.

It’s not that I don’t think I’m attractive. I just don’t think I attract people like him.

“Fine. Yes. We flirt. But who is to say it’s anything more than that?”

Jolene raises an eyebrow. “Do you want it to be more than that?”

I drop my head into my hands and groan. “Joleeeeeene.”

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