Page 29 of Friend Zoned

“Well, we’ll have to change that,” he says.

I stare at him and he looks back. I can’t tell if he’s serious or not.

“Um, maybe next time. A girl needs to plan these things and pack a bag.” I’m already thinking of ways I can manipulate my way into sleeping in his bed when or if that sleepover ever happens. It’s best if it doesn’t.

“Okay, next time then.” He lets my hands go. “I’ll call my driver and we’ll take you home.”

While he texts the driver, I look for my shoes and find my jacket in the coat closet. A few minutes later, Jimmy has the back door open to his Mercedes and Aiden slides in after me. His hand rests on the seat next to me, and I imagine intertwining our fingers together, then I chase the thought away. I’m not looking for a man that’s so far above my pay grade. Quintin wasn’t but he thought he was and held it over my head. I’m doing things differently this time and not repeating old patterns, but this friendship is different. I can handle a friendship.

All too soon, we get to my building. He walks me to my door and follows me inside my apartment. I leave my shoes by the entrance and take my jacket off along the way. He stands at the door to my bedroom, but I see him craning his neck as if he’s trying to commit everything to memory. There are clothes on the bed, but the space is pretty neat. It’s tiny compared to his bedroom, and my bed is cheap wicker. He could probably pick it up with one hand, but I needed to buy all new appliances when I moved in. Bedroom furniture for one wasn’t a priority, and I figure I can replace it in time.

I don’t know why I do this, but I lift the red shirt over my head, leaving me in nothing but my bra and black tank top.

“I’m going to go,” Aiden says. He speaks quickly and turns to walk away from my bedroom. I follow behind him and see him to the door. “Goodnight, Jeannie.” He walks away without a hug. His long legs get him to the elevator in seconds, and he doesn’t look my way again.

It’s been four days since I last saw Aiden, but we text constantly and talk at least once every day. If he has a game, he’ll call me in the middle of the day to say a quick hello. If he’s on the road and does not have a game for the night, he’ll call and we’ll talk. We even had dinner together over FaceTime last night. He was in his hotel room, and I was in my kitchen. Afterward, I sat on my couch, and he climbed into his bed, and we watchedInventingAnnatogether. It was almost like he was here. Almost. I imagined his large body on the couch next to me the entire time.

My personal cell vibrates, and I pull it out of my jacket pocket.

Greenwich: I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 5:30

We’ve already confirmed this, so I text back a thumbs up emoji. I’ve already decided against going shopping with him. There are a couple of things I need to pick up, but I’ll do those on my own over the weekend. I don’t want him there as I look for a sale and pull out a coupon to pay.

After inspecting one of the suites on the top floor, I leave the room. The previous occupant left a hole in the wall and damaged the bathroom. I text the front desk and let them know that the suite can’t be booked until further notice.

One of the drawbacks to managing a high-end hotel are the rich jerks that come through. They are entitled, but once they flash their credit card, we have to turn a blind eye.

My stomach growls, reminding me that it’s lunchtime. I’m already looking forward to tomorrow evening and my weekend off. Only one week before Christmas, and I’m already over the holidays. I’m on call on Christmas day, but I don’t have to be here unless something goes wrong. I’m looking forward to the day with my parents and extended family.

Layla walks from behind the front desk when I step off the elevator. From the determined pace of her steps, I already know whatever news she has is not good.

“Boss,” she whispers. She takes my hand and pulls me away. She pulls me down the hall and through a door marked employees only. “You have a visitor.” She whispers the words even though we are alone. I let out a breath.

“Not the douchebag,” I say. I’ve already lost my appetite. I haven’t seen him since he so graciously stopped by to tell me about his baby, and I haven’t heard from him since he booked a banquet room here for his baby shower.

“Not the douchebag.” She leans in and whispers, “The traitor.” Layla has a nickname for everyone who has wronged me. She’s like the protective little sister I’ve never had.

“Leah is here?” She nods.

“Are you kidding me? I’d rather the douchebag.” At least with him, I can tell him to fuck off. Leah is much more complicated. I still care for her as a human being, but the hurt she caused is too much for us to ever be friends again.

“Say the word, and I’ll call security. I’ll tell them she’s soliciting prostitution in the lobby.” Despite the seriousness of the situation, Layla and I share a carefree giggle, and I pull her in for a hug. She might only be twenty-one, but she’s about the closest thing I have to a female friend.

“I’ll deal with it. Don’t worry about her.”

“You’ll tell me all about it later, right?” She’s a nosy little thing. She followed me into my office one afternoon after a rough meeting with the divorce lawyers. She came to make sure I was okay, and I unloaded on her, telling her everything I was going through.

“You know I will. Get back to the front desk. Where is she?” Layla tells me she told Leah to wait outside my office. She returns to her station, and I take a few minutes to collect myself. I count to ten on the short walk to my office.

Leah’s leaning against the wall, facing my door. I’ve had my mother and other family show up at my job. Layla just lets them wait in my office, but she did not do that for Leah.

She’s all bundled up in the winter coat I gave her for Christmas a few years ago and has a knit hat on her head. I walk past her, open my office, and gesture for her to come inside. I then stand behind my desk and lean against the wall. I refuse to speak first. Her face still looks the same, if just a little paler. She’s light skinned, but she looks as pale as a ghost today. She pulls off the hat and her braids tumble out. She offers a tentative smile which I don’t return.

“Hey,” she says. Her smile dips, but she takes a step forward, and I’m grateful that I have my desk separating us. “I stopped by to see if you wanted to have lunch. I would have called first, but you won’t take my calls.” She shrugs as if she can’t possibly understand why I wouldn’t take her calls.

“I don’t want to have lunch with you,” I say, taking a page out of one of my books to be more direct. The old Jeannie would have made up a lie about being too busy for lunch.

She looks down at the desk and takes another step. She takes her purse off her shoulder and puts it on my desk.

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