Page 33 of Friend Zoned

“Okay, boss man.” He looks like he wants to say more, but he gets back in the car and drives away. She buzzes me in seconds later, and I take the stairs rather than wait for the elevator. She has her door wide open when I arrive, and I close and lock it behind me.

The apartment is fully decorated for Christmas but not overly done. She has a tree and a poinsettia on the windowsill. The place smells great. A combination of food and a vanilla candle.

“Hey!” She takes the bags from me, puts them down, and does something she’s never done before. She pulls me into a hug. “Merry Christmas, bestie.” I pull away and look down at her. She seems happier than I’ve ever seen her. She’s in a red sweater and a matching Santa hat and tight black jeans. On her feet are red, fuzzy slippers.

“Merry Christmas,” I say back, looking down into her brown eyes. She moves away and returns with two red drinks.

“I’ve been waiting for you to drink.” We clink our glasses. Vodka and cranberry juice. “I hope you’re hungry, and the bag on the couch is for you. Open it now. I’ll be right back.” She leaves the room, and while I admire the cozy apartment, I frown at the bad bitch that’s still written on the wall. She can easily paint it over or cover it with the television, but she leaves it there.

I don’t know if I want to paint it over myself or find her ex-husband and kill him. I grab the small gift bag on the couch. The name tag says to bestie from Jeannie. I pull out the tissue paper and hold the long sleeve tee.

She comes running back, wearing her own that says Aiden’s bestie. Hers is green, but mine is red and reads Jeannie’s bestie. An idea hits, and I finally remove my jacket and hang it in the closet. When I return to the living room, I take off my gray sweater, right along with my white t-shirt.

I stand there while she stares at my bare chest. She visibly swallows at the sight. I know she’s studying my tattoos. There are some days I regret them. They were an act of defiance after my father disowned me, and even then, I realized I went too far, but right now with her eyes on me, I don’t regret a single one. Not the tacky basketball on my shoulder or the pair of wolves across my torso.

She takes a step forward but must catch herself because she stops. I feel my nipples start to harden, and my pants tighten. I clear my throat and reluctantly put on the t-shirt she got for me.

“Perfect fit,” I say. “Thanks, bestie.”

“I thought we’d listen to music and put some Christmas movies on in the background. I hope you’re hungry because I’ve been cooking for hours. I found a recipe and made these dumplings. Come.” She takes my hand and pulls me into the kitchen.

All I want for Christmas is You starts to play, and I pull her into my arms. We dance around her small apartment while we sing along, both of us off key. Our singing might be off, but we’re well matched when it comes to dancing. I grab her hips and keep her pressed into me. She doesn’t seem to mind. I spin her around, and she throws her head back and laughs.

“Come on. Try one.” She leaves my arms and brings back a platter. I take two and eat them.

“Good,” I say, meaning it. “Very good. You seem happy tonight.”

“I am,” she says. “I’m on vacation until the New Year, and when Quintin called my office yesterday, I dodged his calls and didn’t think twice about it. I’m looking forward to next year. I have a feeling it’s going to be great. With my bestie beside me, I can conquer anything.” She pours each of us another drink.

I like getting to know her, but this bestie business will end soon. Very soon. Well, we can be lovers and besties, but I’m getting out of the friends only zone before February first because there’s no way I can handle it if she starts dating.

“It sucks that you have to work on Christmas,” she says.

“I’m still seeing my family,” I remind her. “My sister is hosting this year.” She hosts every year, and every year she reminds me I need a family so we can share the hosting duties. Every year I tell her to fuck off.

“What else did he have written on the wall?” I ask quickly as a way to change the subject away from my family.

“You name it, he wrote it. Cunt and whore were everywhere. He also wrote gutter trash, and I can do way better than you.” She lets out a carefree laugh. “If he thinks Camille is way better than me, God bless him. I had to repair holes all over the living room and the bathroom. He even smashed the toilet.” She puts down the spoon and turns around. “But I don’t want to talk about that tonight. I really don’t. In fact, I don’t want to think about him ever again. I want to have fun and celebrate Christmas with you. I’m really glad we met, Greenwich.” She holds up her glass, and I tap mine with it.

“Me too,” I say with a smile.

“So, do you want to set the table, or do you want to eat in the living room in front of the TV? Either way, we’re keeping it casual.”

She moves around the kitchen, finding serving dishes and putting food in them. She has plates with poinsettias on them, along with matching glasses. We eat at the table with Christmas carols softly playing in the background. The prime rib is delicious and pairs well with the red wine I brought.

“I just had a thought,” she says about an hour later. Dinner’s done, and I’m helping her in the kitchen. Actually, I help clear the table and just stand there and watch as she cleans because I’ve never done anything domestic before in my life. After she rinses the dishes and puts them in the dishwasher, she takes off her rubber gloves and turns to me. She opens her mouth to talk, but our eyes clash, and she seems to forget what she was going to say.

I hold her stare, but after a few seconds, lower my gaze and look at her full lips. Her lipstick is gone, and all I can think about is sucking that plump bottom lip into my mouth and kissing her until she becomes breathless.

She clears her throat and looks away, running a hand through her hair and looking around. “I hate my kitchen,” she says.

“Is that the thought you had?” I ask her. I have a feeling it wasn’t. She pours each of us another glass of wine and gestures for me to follow her to the couch.

She has a Christmas movie playing, but the sound is on silent.

“No, it’s much worse than my ugly kitchen.” She slowly sips her wine and puts down the glass. “What if my new boyfriend has a problem with my BFF?” She widens her eyes and puts both hands to her cheeks in shock.

I don’t put my glass down for fear I’ll take her hands in mine. If I do that, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop myself from pulling her into my arms and kissing her.

---