Page 34 of Friend Zoned

“I really don’t think you have to worry about that.”

“Oh, I’m not worried about it because I’m not giving up my bestie, but you obviously don’t know men.”

I roll my eyes to the ceiling. “Well, I’ve never dated one, but I think I know them pretty well.”

She leans back on the couch and says, “Well, it doesn’t matter now. I have almost two months, and I’m going to be a lot more assertive, so he’s going to have to suck it up.”

“So, what kind of guy are you looking for?” I ask her.

“Someone who isn’t Quintin. He has to be able to keep it in his pants when I’m not around. So, athletes are out,” she says. “Someone funny who doesn’t take himself too seriously. I want to be able to joke and tease him the way I tease you about your big feet and Paul Bunyan hands. I guess I would want him to be my friend too, then. I want to travel, so he’s got to be open to that. Nothing too crazy,” she says. Then she takes the wineglass from me and grabs my hand. She flicks my fingers again. “And I hate eating alone, so he’d have to be around. If you know someone who fits that description, introduce me.”

“Whoa!” I say, doing my best to sound offended. “No athletes? You don’t even watch any sports and you’re trash talking athletes.” It’s a stereotype, but most stereotypes do have some truth.

“Um, I don’t need to watch sports to know that. Everyone knows athletes are dogs.”

“You were just at Colt Chastain’s wedding.” He’s one of the sincerest guys I’ve come across in my line of work. I’ve known him for years, and I’ve never known him to sleep around like the rest of the guys.

“Okay, so he’s the exception. There are always a few, but I’m not looking for the athlete lifestyle.”

“You know, I was once a professional basketball player. I’m offended.” I turn my head away from her. She inches closer to me. I pretend to be upset and move away.

“Oh, come on.” She rests a hand on my lap. “How old were you when you started playing professionally?”

“Twenty.”

“And you didn’t play around?” She raises both eyebrows as if she’s daring me to deny it.

“Playing around is not what you implied. I’ve never cheated on a girlfriend even when I was in the league and traveling a lot.”

“Did you have a girlfriend?”

“Maybe.” I shrug.

“Oh, a man of mystery. How long were you in the league?”

“Four years before I got hurt, and yes, I had a girlfriend or two.”

“Hmm. Interesting. So, what happened?”

It’s a story as old as time. What happened was I didn’t want more than what we had, and when they pushed for a bigger commitment, I ended things. After doing that a few times, I decided I wasn’t going to commit to a relationship and focus on my career instead. Of course, I was never without female companionship, but I won’t tell her that. That would only prove her point.

“They wanted more than I could give at the time.”

“What exactly does that mean?” She puts her drink down and glowers at me. She goes so far as to cross her arms.

“In a couple instances they wanted to move in with me. They even brought up marriage. I was in my early twenties and wasn’t ready for that. I let them know and ended things. I didn’t lie to anyone, and I didn’t lead anyone on.”

“That’s fair, I guess. Lucky for you, I didn’t find out you were a cheater or else.” She makes a fist and waves it in my face. She finishes her wine and stands. “I even considered being a ho for a while.” She says it so casually, it takes me a few seconds to process her words. When I do, the wine goes down the wrong pipe and I start to cough. She reaches over and massages between my shoulder blades, instantly relaxing me.

“You were considering being awhat?” I ask, sure that I heard wrong.

“A ho. I was going to sleep around. No commitments. No dinners or dancing. Only limited conversation. Definitely no getting to know anyone. Just sex, plain and simple. I even went to a bar by myself one night to pick a man up.”

“When was this?” I ask, proud of myself for sounding calm.

“Last fall. It was a long and lonely summer. So, I decided I was going to do something I’d never done before. I got dressed and went out alone, and if I do say so myself, I looked really good. I met someone.” I cough again. There’s no doubt she looked fucking fantastic. I didn’t even know her last fall, but I’m ready to track down this man and beat him to a pulp. “He was handsome. Just my type. Tall, lean, and dark. He bought me a couple of drinks and invited me to his place. I agreed.” I sit still while I wait to hear the rest and curse this friendship to hell. I know one thing. The next time she steps foot inside a bar, it will be with me, and I’ll be more to her than just her bestie.

“And?”

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