Page 35 of Friend Zoned

“I told him I was going to the bathroom, and I’d be right back. I went to freshen my makeup. I was ready, but when I stepped out of the bathroom, instead of going back to the bar, I walked out the door and never looked back. Moral of the story, Coach, is that I’m not a one-night stand girl. I need a relationship, so I hope the men of New York City are ready. You want to know a secret?”

I lean closer and say, “I want to know all your secrets.” I really do, but this story about going to the bar alone is going to plague me from now on. What if she tries this again while I’m away and can’t get to her in time?

She looks into my eyes and quickly looks away. “Never mind.” She finishes her drink and goes to pour another. I stand and follow her into the small kitchen. I want nothing more than to put my hands on her shoulders, but I don’t. If I do, I’ll turn her around, kiss her, and carry her into her bedroom.

I know she feels me standing behind her. It’s in the rigid way she stands and how she refuses to turn around to look at me. “Friends don’t keep secrets, remember?” I inch closer. I’m so close now that I can practically hear her heavy breathing. She takes a deep breath and finally turns to me.

Her eyes travel around the room frantically until they lock with mine. She bites her top lip, and I wait to hear the next words that come out of her mouth.

“So, I’m turning thirty next year, and—” She stops talking and looks away. I put a finger underneath her chin and force her to look at me.

“And?”

“And I’ve still only ever been with one man.” She lowers her voice and says, “You know. Sexually.” She swats my hand away and returns to the living room. “I know. I’m lame, but next year will be different. I know I can’t be a ho, but I’m going to find me a man. I might even have two boyfriends next year. Not at the same time, of course.”

No, that’s not going to happen either.

She sits on the couch, puts her feet on the coffee table, and starts flipping through the channels. I sit on the opposite side, careful not to touch her again, for fear that I won’t be able to stop.

“You’re not lame. There’s no shame in only being with one person, Jeannie.”

She rolls her eyes and does an unladylike snort. “Oh, please. How many women have you been with?” she asks. “I bet when you were about to turn thirty, you had been with thousands of women.”

“Thousands? I’m flattered, but no. Nothing like that.”

“Hundreds then,” she insists.

“Nothing like that either.”

“How many? You know my number.” She inches closer to me, and I realize there’s no way I’m going to give her a number. First, I don’t know how many, and second, it’s all history, and I can’t undo it.

“The number doesn’t matter,” I tell her.

“That many, huh?” She lets out a loud whistle.

‘Not at all, but you have to remember that I had a different lifestyle than you. I’ve never been married. I had relationships, but like I told you, I wasn’t ready for anything long term or permanent. But when I was in those relationships, I was only with that person. Your ex is an asshole, but I think there’s something special about giving a part of yourself only to the one you’re with. I hope to be able to do that someday.” With you. I hope to be with you and only you very soon.

“Yeah, well, I hope you find that.” She clears her throat as if the words pain her.

“You’ll find it too. And he’s going to adore you. I’m sure he’ll spoil the living hell out of you. Put you on a pedestal.”

She dramatically bats her eyelashes. “Yes, I deserve all of that.” She rests her forehead on my bicep. “You do too, Coach,” she whispers

“We’re both going to have it.”

Chapter 17

Jeannie

Me: Merry Christmas.

I send Aiden a picture of me holding the gift bag he left here last night. He made me promise not to open it until Christmas, but I’m headed to my parents’ place, and I don’t want to open it now. I want to come back tonight and take my time with it. It’s been barely a day, but I miss him. I know he’s busy until the game ends this afternoon. Then he’ll be headed to Greenwich to have Christmas dinner with his family. He won’t technically be that far away from me, but it seems like a million miles.

While I put the gifts in a couple of cardboard boxes, I try and picture Aiden coming with me to my family’s house for Christmas or any other occasion. His tall frame would fill the small space, and his head would practically touch the ceiling. He’d eat everything in sight and drink rum with my father. My mother would wonder why he’s there, but she would never, ever be rude to a guest. Then remember Aiden that has his own family, and that we’re just friends. He’s never crossed the boundaries of our friendship, so I need to put that little fantasy away.

My phone vibrates, and it’s him.

Greenwich: Merry Christmas. Talk tonight?

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