Page 32 of Friend Zoned

“Are we shopping tonight?” She gets a look on her face that I can’t put my finger on. It looks a little like defeat mixed with embarrassment.

“Lucky for you, I won’t subject you to that. I did most of my shopping online. We can go back to my place and wrap after dinner.” Our food arrives, and we focus on that, sharing everything on the table. Jeannie talks about how she’s looking forward to taking some time off for the holidays, and I find myself envying her. She eats more tonight than I’ve ever seen before, and I don’t know if it’s the booze, but she’s unguarded and happy. Part of me hopes that it’s not the alcohol and it’s because of me.

By the time we arrive at her house, it’s after eight. The place looks different than when I was there the first time. She has a Christmas tree by the front window, and it’s decorated with white lights and silver and red ornaments. It’s simple but classy and beautiful.

“Make yourself at home.” I take off my coat and put it in the closet. While I do that, she puts on Christmas carols. She disappears into her bedroom and closes the door behind her. When she returns, she’s carrying a box, which I take from her. She’s also changed into gray sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt. She goes to the coat closet and returns with a plastic bag. She takes the contents out and puts wrapping paper, tape, and name tags on the table.

“Time to get our wrapping on, Coach. I bet right about now you’re cursing the fact that we’re besties.”

“Not even close,” I tell her. To get more comfortable, I take off my shoes, but I notice her eyeing my feet. I lift them up and wiggle my toes.

“Those things are ginormous,” she says. She picks up a roll of wrapping paper decorated with penguins. I don’t think I’ve ever wrapped a gift in my entire thirty-eight years. Jimmy orders my presents and wraps them even though I tell him to just pay extra. He says wrapping presents is therapeutic for him, whatever the hell that means.

Sitting on the floor in front of her coffee table, I have no idea what to do. She might as well ask me to deactivate a ticking bomb. She sits next to me and hands me a package with a black Barbie.

“Please say this isn’t for me,” I joke. I pick up a pair of scissors and try to copy her movements. I cut a big piece of paper, but it’s too much for the package. While I try to wrap it around the Barbie, I rip some of the paper and curse.

That must get her attention. From the corner of my eye, I see her lean back against the sofa, cross her arms, and stare at me. I lift the roll, and it slips out of my hand. A large portion of the paper rolls out, and I curse again. I rip it off and wrap it around the package three times. I put a bow on it and admire the disaster in front of me.

“Oh my God,” she says. “Let me see those things.” I stare at her and have no idea what she’s talking about. She snatches the package from me and takes both my hands. She inspects them. She holds them up in the air, brings them down, and turns them over. Finally, she lets out a loud whistle. “Those things are huge. My goodness. I’ve never seen such big hands before.” She puts her hand against one of mine. Just a simple movement and I could intertwine our fingers. “They’re like three times the size of mine, and mine aren’t small.” She flicks each one of my fingers.

“What are you doing?” I ask, bemused.

“I’m trying to figure out if you’re part giant. Is your mom an amazon?” She turns my hands over again, then she eyes my feet.

“I’m six-foot-eight. Do you want me to have ballerina feet and girly hands?”

“Six-foot-eight? Damn.” She drops my hands, and I wish she’d take them again. “I guess that explains why you can’t wrap presents. Your hands are too big.” She grabs my hideously wrapped package and tears the wrapping off. “Watch me.”

It’s my turn to sit back and watch. She’s right. I have no idea what I’m doing. It takes her less than two minutes to wrap it perfectly. She hands me a pen and a stack of name tags.

“How’s your handwriting? Is it legible? Write to Sydney from Jeannie. Can you handle that? I’m sure Greenwich public schools are top notch.” I snatch the pen from her and write down the name and shove the tag in her face before putting it on the gift. Truth is, I have no idea how good the Greenwich public schools are. I’m positive they are wonderful, but I went to private school all my life, including an elite all-boys boarding school in Maine for high school. I keep that to myself, though.

She picks up the package and inspects it. “Good penmanship. I must say, I’m surprised.”

“How about some water whenever you’re done criticizing me? I can’t work under these conditions.” I take off my sweater, leaving me in nothing but my white tee. She freezes and her eyes linger on my chest. I work out every day for at least two hours and it shows. I’ve never been so happy about it as I am at this moment. She swallows and gets up, returning with two bottles of water.

She wraps presents, and I make a mess of the wrapping paper. I ball the scraps and throw them in her trashcan. I don’t miss a single time.

“Let me try.” She balls up her own and misses. She does it four more times and misses each time. I ball up some more and hand them to her. She misses those too. “You’re sabotaging me,” she says. “You’re balling these wrong.” I hand her another and she misses. I toss three in a row and make each one.

“Sure, blame me for your lack of skills.” She tries again and finally gets one. She runs around the small apartment as if she just won a championship.

“Suck it, Walsh. I win.” Yeah, I’d really like to suck it. Either a nipple or her clit. And I will. I just have to bide my time and come up with a plan. When she runs by me, I grab her wrist and pull her down. She ends up on my lap.

The laughter dies on her tongue, and she suddenly gets serious when we lock eyes, and I refuse to look away. She clears her throat and gets up.

“How about some Anna Delvey while we wrap? I think we’re on episode six now,” she says.

The moment is broken when she turns off the music and turns on the television.

Chapter 16

Aiden

I hate that I’m running late, but Christmas Eve is always busy for me. After practice and a workout, I had meetings with the assistant coaches about possible recruits for next year. We watched a few videos before I got a call from Seth Wakowski, but it took me a few seconds to figure out it was him due to his blubbering. Seth’s only twenty-one with the maturity level of a boy ten years younger. The only difference is his appetite for the ladies. He’s recently had three women come forward claiming he’s the father of their babies. He called with relief that two of the paternity tests were negative. The other woman refuses to be tested until after the baby is born. I gave him a long lecture about growing up. If he’s not going to keep it in his pants, he needs to wrap it up. He sniffled into the phone and promised he’d do better. Stupid idiot. I almost feel sorry for him. Unlike some of the other players, he never has any family at the games. He seems to be all alone, but that’s not my problem.

I grab the bags from the seat and hop out. “I’ll call you when I’m ready,” I say to Jimmy. He eyes the bags in my hand and nods.

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